My amazing teammate has the perfect, “Toodles!”

She uses it at the perfect times.

I’m trying to adopt it as a catchphrase myself. Here’s what I’m learning about “Toodles!”

When there are kids who just showed you a dance they made up at recess and you loved to watch. But then they are just standing there staring at you.

That’s when you say, “Thanks for sharing that friends! Toodles!”

When you see a student out in the real world and you’ve had the whole conversation, you are actually so happy to see them. But then they are just standing there staring at you.

That’s when you say, “So good to see you! Toodles!”

Or when it’s time for morning meeting to start and you are in the hall with the few stragglers, trying to get them to finish up and head in to start the day.

That’s when you say, “I’m going in for morning meeting. See you in a minute! Toodles!”

Help me out, friends. When else can I practice my new favorite catchphrase?

Toodles!

Yesterday was Opposite Day in second grade.
Luckily it was short lived.

It started with kids calling me my student teacher’s name, my student teacher was called my name. Then it progressed. Lunch one was lunch two, lunch two was lunch one. Chairs that were still up were down, chairs that were down, were, you guessed it, up.

“It’s Opposite Day!” kids announced to those just coming in.

And so it rolled.

I was worried, to be honest. I was sick and I didn’t think I had the patience for a whole day of Opposite Day.

“It’s Opposite Day!” Someone exclaimed to me.

“I’m so excited.” I said.

She smiled. I don’t think she understood that my “excitement” was my one and only contribution to Opposite Day.

Luckily, the opposites quieted down by morning meeting, and I forgot about it until just now. Phew.

Today we got to something some of my students have been waiting for, hoping for, begging for.
They drum-rolled as I went to switch the slide.
They cheered as the new slide appeared.
It was finally time to learn…

The cursive capital G.

It’s always nice to be able to make them so happy.

We started how we always start a new cursive letter, “pencils up in the air!”

I took them step by step. “Start at the bottom. Curve up to the top. Loop around to the left and swing up to the right. Pull down to the bottom and swing left to cross. Swing up to the right.”

“This is hard!” Someone complained.
“No it’s not, it’s easy,” someone else said.

My student teacher reminded them that things can be easy for one person and hard for another. She asked them to be encouraging.

I moved on to the next letter we were learning. My student teacher complimented my ability to read the formation directions while drawing the letter.

I thanked her for her kind words and added, “It actually is tricky sometimes!”

“No it’s not” that same someone else said again.
“She wasn’t talking to you,” another student said.

I looked at the clock.

We started practicing the lower case w. One of the students said something about it that I couldn’t hear. I asked 3 times for her to repeat herself, when my para told me. “She said it looks like an outline of a bum.”

“Oh.” I’m annoyed at myself for trying so hard to understand what she was saying.

“Well, it’s just a w. It looks like a w, and that’s what it is. That’s all.”

In the back of my head I remembered how a few days ago my student teacher said she admired my patience, and I laugh to myself as we finish up cursive and head to lunch.

You know those kids in your class that have such a hard time with
(you can fill in the blank — )
listening, keeping their hands to themselves,
not interrupting, staying on the rug, staying on their chairs. . .
you know those kids
they have good moments and hard moments
good days and hard days
good weeks and hard weeks

I want to know the form of
poetry
to adequately express the moment
during a hard week
when you walk by their after school program and one of
those very kids
runs up to you
arms open wide
smiling from ear to ear
proclaiming
“Hello!”
as they hug you
and your papers and bags almost fall to the ground
because
that moment is the sweet hope of teaching,
I think.

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.