Tough Choices

I've always been the type of person who struggles with big decision making. I over-analyze, over-think, and get overly anxious about the ramifications of said decision. I dislike transition and change, even though once I crossed the bridge, it's always worked out just fine or better than expected. Yet, even with this successful track record, when a new decision presents itself, I can't help but make it into a gut-wrenching process until I reach clarity.

Last year I had to make a decision whether to work full-time for part of the year. Initially I resisted, even hiring a new job-share partner until mine came back from leave. But then she left for a full-time position, and I just didn't have it in me to hire again and get to know a new person, so I sucked it up and committed until February. I figured this would be a good way to discover if full-time was even reasonable. Rob and I braced ourselves, sure that it would be a grueling six months filled with many o' night of regret. And then, lo and behold, it was pretty much a breeze. I didn't have to plan with anybody else, didn't have to run every decision by another person, and didn't have to cram all I could into two to three days in order to be ready to hand my class of to my partner. My fifth grade team teacher was amazing, and was exactly the kind of colleague/friend I wanted to have next door. At home, I was pretty diligent about being organized. I prepped our meals and lunches in advance, and used our crockpot like a madman. Most nights, literally, we had at least five hours before bedtime to hang, sat down to a home-cooked dinner, and really didn't feel like we were sacrificing family time. In fact, as I've heard people say before but maybe didn't actually believe, my time with the kids was even better. We were focused on them, more patient, and all just enjoyed each other a lot. Genevieve was in school the whole day, and Luca was in school half the day, and with my best friend the other. Rob was home with Luca on Fridays, getting special "daddy days" which they both coveted. People kept asking with trepidation how it was all going, and my continued response was that we were pleasantly surprised at how well it was all going.

 Then February came and my job-share partner returned. I was actually disappointed in some ways. I had a great thing going in my classroom. However, once our new schedule started, I was so happy to have more time at home again. I soaked up Luca. But I do admit, that while I should have had so much free time to cook ahead and get all the chores done, most days I'd spend catching up on work emails, worrying about what was going on at school, or just trying to decompress. There is something more straining (for me) about have very full work days, and then following those days with very full days of a different nature. It was like trying to turn on a dime, going 60 mph, twice a week.

Fast forward to this summer. I knew that there was a possibility that a half day Kindergarten would open at our school, and that my job-share partner might want it. This would result in my either getting a coveted, full time contract, or having to hire a brand new person to fill that spot. But for a variety of reasons, it didn't feel like it was going to happen. I had really mentally settled in another part-time year, excited about helping Rob out with his new venture.

Then came the call....or rather the text...from my partner letting me know she took the Kindergarten job, and I was now without a partner. I knew what was coming next. I opened up my email to see what I knew what would be there. An email from my principal asking me if I'd like the job full-time, or if we should post the position to hire. My stomach immediately plummeted, knotted up, twisted about. I had secretly been hoping the decision wouldn't even present itself so it was out of my hands.

The pros and cons were apparent. That list was easy to generate:

Pros:
 * Bigger income in a time that Rob's is uncertain
* Insurance for our entire family will almost be covered
* Having complete control of my classroom
* Getting a full-time contract in a time that so many teachers can't even find a job (this could be a whole other post!)
* Still maintaining a schedule in which the kids would have us before and after school. No need to rely on anybody, and we'd still have loads of time together since obviously, I share all their breaks.

Cons:
* Luca would have to go to full-day Kindergarten OR
* Luca would stay in 1/2 day K, but would be juggled between people in the afternoons
* Admittedly, I would be giving up the couple of mornings where I was the only person in my house :). After a decade of having little feet and hands undoing all of my hard work, this was an exciting prospect :).

The real sticking point? See the first * on the cons list. I know this seems to silly to some people, but for me, this was the biggest hurdle for me to work out. Luca is a good boy. (Disclaimer...he can be as much of a stinker as any kid...I'm not claiming perfection here :). He's a good listener in class, compliant, bright. He's already reading and I actually questioned last year if 1/2 day K would be sufficient given how quickly he was picking things up. However, I have a deeply ingrained ideal, that Rob and I share, that our society is too eager and quick to push kids beyond where they are ready to be. I'd prefer my kids be really grounded at home, with their family. Therefore, I've always worked part-time because we need the income, but so that they have lots and lots of time at home with me, doing things that kids do at the pace in which they should do them. Even last year's schedule was a bit tough for Luca. He was so wiped out by the end of the week. I am nervous that full day Kindergarten will be too much for him. But as I do, I took this concern and mushroomed it into a full-fledged nervous breakdown about it. I'm now certain that the course of his life will be severely impacted by this decision. I'm sure that he will go from pretty good kid to super naughty kid either because he's too tired, or because he'll reap the influences of all those other kids (don't mistake this for arrogance about my kid because I know there will be lots of great kids there....I just fear he'll pick the naughty to be led by :). He's certain to become a juvenile delinquent and eventual adult criminal (okay, now I'm exaggerating for the sake of writing fun, not because I'm THAT over dramatic :).

I know this is irrational. Trust me, I do know this. I get that we've done a lot in his six years, and Genevieve's ten, to help them be secure, loving people grounded in their family and influenced by our values. I know they will make mistakes, as they already do, that we'll work through and learn from. I know he'll thrive in K, whether it's full or half time. From my Kindergarten teacher friends, they always comment how half day almost feels more stressful, because they are squeezing so much in such a small amount of time, and how full-day feels more easygoing, with more opportunities for art, social studies, and science. Well, that sounds nice.

Okay, so I spent the first few days thinking and rethinking all of the above. And then I had an epiphany which I think is really the underlying cause of all this anxiety.

So often I hear parents say emphatically when they are done having kids. They can, without a hesitation, express their absolute completeness of family with no desire for more. I still haven't had this feeling. I pretty much know we won't have more kids. We're in a good space with our kids and it's a good balance for us. But still, I have LOVED having little kids. I have loved so much about their development. I have loved that I have been around for so much of it. I STILL see Luca as my baby, as a little boy still under his mommy and daddy's wings. His starting Kindergarten didn't really change this for me, because after all, he'd still be home with me half the day. Unless of course he isn't. If we commit to this full day schedule for him, this is it. We will have entered that official next stage that never felt like it would really come. Both our kids will be of school age, no longer at home during the day to play in sandboxes, do art with mom, go to the Children's Museum with dad. (I am aware there are other hours in the day that we can do these things...that's not the point :).

This also came at the heels of Genevieve turning double digits, which also took me by surprise...not that she was turning 10 :), but that I had a reaction about it. I said to Rob that day, that in the time that she has blessed us on this earth, that time from now she'll have moved out, and will hopefully (most-definitely) be in college, cultivating a life of her own.

So that's it, my kids are leaving us and they're long gone.

Yeah, drama :)...obviously not. But, when I had little kids, that future seemed so far away, barely realistic and hard to really envision. Between Genevieve turning 10, and Luca going to school full-time, the reality of how fast it all goes really hit me hard. I cried even. I'm tearing up just writing this. This is a big deal, because I'm not really much of a crier, but this has punched me in the gut.

Don't let me leave you with the wrong impression. I'm not one of those crazy mothers who is overly dependent on my kids for my personal well-being. It is my greatest hope to help guide my kids into functional adults, after which Rob and I will get to spend a good deal of time doing our own thing together again. But the realization that we are officially moving onto having big kids maybe took me by surprise. And there is some measure of guilt and resistance knowing I could and would want to hold it off for just one more year by having Luca in 1/2 day K. Remember my struggle with change and transitions that I started this post with?

But here it is. My gut tells me that taking this full-time contract is the right thing to do. It helps give us some financial security while Rob pursues his dream of having a successful business. Luca will be good. Genevieve hoped I would teach full time because she thought it would mean she could go to her friend Ali's before school in the morning (she was disappointed to find out that was not the case), so she'll be good. Our family will still have loads of time together since we're all home by 4:30 at the latest and can take holidays off together. If we end up screwing Luca up, it'll probably be because of much bigger reasons than we chose full instead of part time Kindergarten. I will get to fully flex my teacher muscle and have total autonomy about how I run my classroom. We WILL take a big vacation as a consequence and my kids want to ride on a place so badly. This will open up some opportunities we couldn't previously afford.

Exhale....big exhale. It's decided.

By the way, I don't have any feelings about other kids being in full day Kindergarten, whether parents work full or part time, whether you bottle or breast fed, or whether you co-slept or not. This post is not teeming with judgment, just insight into OUR family.

Finding a Happy Place

It's interesting as I read back upon my few posts, that the material I choose is usually the tough things that are wrestling around inside my over-analytical head. Human nature, I suppose. I'm pretty introspective by nature, so what better way to improve one's self than to expose all the parts that need to be worked on? Don't take this as my being a self-proclaimed Debbie Downer. I'm actually pretty optimistic and positive. Those self-improvements aren't so much changing what is wrong about me, but reflecting on what works and doesn't, and making adjustments that work better in the future. I'm not sure why I needed this disclaimer before the meat of this post...I just did :).

This time of year, meaning, this time of the school year, is usually my favorite. While others love the new and fresh beginnings of the fall, I prefer the comfort and familiarity of the spring. My students and I get each other, know each other. I said in a previous post that this allows them some freedom to manage themselves in an educational environment that is organic and authentic, with my being less in control of the ship, but rather being available to guide the course. I like when we get to this place.

This year was marred by the issue of my changing schools, and the uncertainty that also brought. But this year is more than that. This time of THIS year is hard. And it has more to do with my students than anything else.

I have a "tough" class this year.I don't consider them individually difficult, but collectively, there is a pack of eight that are a constant strain. But not in the sense that one might assume. It's not that they are driving me crazy or pushing boundaries. It's the very circumstances they come from, continue to struggle with, and will likely be immersed in for years and decades to come, that is hugely weighing me down. Outside of our room these kids are impulsive, disrespectful, have little regard for boundaries, and lack drive, will, or motivation. Inside our classroom they try harder. They smile when they feel like they've achieved something. They even raise their hands to contribute to discussions when they feel like they are getting it. But their successes are so short-lived. A day, an hour, a minute, a moment. And then they leave school, and it is completely undone.

Their situations are tough. They embody all the sociological and psychological challenges that people cite when discussing troubled youth. They have parents who are not only divorced, but divorced ugly. They have parents in jail, and mothers with restraining orders. They don't have enough positive adult interaction, appropriate boundaries, or reasonable expectations; and by reasonable, I mean pretty much no expectations at all. They are exposed to adult content too early, and not given opportunities to understand how this fits in the context of the world. They hear racially charged jokes on T.V. and have nobody to tell them those jokes are off the table. They live with grandmothers who fill the house full of other troubled youth, perhaps with altruistic intentions, but minimizing the opportunity for the original child that much more. They have adults who haven't respected them, or demanded respect in return.

I'm pissed.

I'm angry and exasperated at their situations. I'm angry and exasperated at the people who are supposed to be their biggest advocates, who are failing each and every one of my infamous eight.

This has been the situation all year for us, and probably most of their lives for them. So why is it suddenly laying on my shoulders like a lead weight? I'm realistic about my job. I don't expect my nine months with a student will be the magic bullet that will transform their life. And maybe that's part of it. I feel like I'm out of time to influence them, and their challenges ahead are only going to be astronomically more difficult. Who do they have?

I get that these kiddos could pull up their own boot straps. I know people, and was a person, who grew up with very challenging circumstances and prevailed. But I think the ability to swim up river, climb up on the bank and conquer the mountain, rather than give into the exhaustion and drown with the tide, is somewhat wired into our DNA. I just don't know that my infamous eight have it naturally ingrained in there. The odds are much more difficult than people who have not survived this struggle could ever understand. Not because they aren't empathetic and smart, but because "walking one's walk" really does apply.

I found myself this week, channeling my frustration about my kiddo's Mt. Everest circumstances, into them. Instead of building them up, I was the last in the chain of people to weigh heavily on them, and I don't want to spend the last six weeks with them being that person. So I'm resolving to connect with them again, understand where they are, and make sure they know I value them and see their worth. I will continue to have high standards, expectations, and clear boundaries, but also balance it empathy, kindness, and humor. When I recall the people who really steered me through the difficult times in my adolescence, it wasn't the people one might think. It was a few people that were, in honesty, fleeting in their presence. It was my counselor at school who allowed me to use her car to take my driver's test. It was our school security guard who would run with me in the mornings, took me on a ropes course, and bought me lunch when I got decent grades. It was my Japanese teacher who was never angry with me for having a late assignment, because he knew my circumstances were tough, and instead greeted me everyday with a sincere smile and welcoming aura, like he was glad I showed up today. These people, without even meaning to, or maybe they did, made me feel like I mattered, had value, and could achieve. So, if I do nothing else for my infamous eight, hopefully they can leave my classroom with a little more self-worth than they started, and remember their last year of elementary school with some semblance of a positive glow.

Let go and let _______

"Let go and let God" is a phrase that resonates with me from time to time. I guess I'm still working out the "God" part in my mind, but nonetheless, I believe in certain things being somewhat out of my control, and therefore, sometimes, we just have to let difficult things unfold, and have faith that when clarity finally reveals herself, we find a shift that was better than we expected. That being said, I've never been one to love transitions, and find a certain level of discomfort when I can't see into the future. I'm not terribly adventurous this way, and like the security of knowing what is around the corner. This is definintely reflected in my job choices. The first real job I had lasted for eight years. I electively left that job after being certified as a teacher to move onto other opportunties. The change was actually not as difficult as I had anticipated, perhaps because I was somewhat in control of the choice, and it was a good move. My second job is where I am to this day...coincedentally enough, another eight year stint. However this time, my possible departure is not by choice, but due to luck of the draw, how the cards fell, where I stood in line. My departure is all based on my number in the bigger order.

My number is 3.6. The true make-up of it doesn't really matter at this point, except to say that it means that myself, along with another two teachers, are being "surplussed" out of our current building. One teacher won't have a job at all. The other one, along with myself, will supposedly have a job somewhere in our district. I think most who know me understand I don't feel particuarly "entitled" to things and that I really feel a great deal of gratitude for those things I have been blessed with and worked hard for. So the logical, "mom-lessons" part of me keeps telling myself how grateful I am that I still have a contract. That the situation could be much worse, which it could. I have pretty much accepted that things will be different for me next year, maybe radically so. I might be staying home with my kids (which frankly, sounds amazing). I might be tutoring, I might be subbing, or I might be in a new school, with a new teaching partner, in a new job-share situation, in a new grade-level, with a new staff and principal to impress. I might be further away, though I doubt that since the logistics are already a delicate tightrope to balance, and dragging my kids out of bed any earlier than I already must is too much to require of us and them. Yeah, there are a lot of questions which aren't looking to be resolved anytime soon. I'm trying to be comfortable with this...though it is mildly (or majorly) unsettling I admit.

Soooooo, I'm in an okay space. We'll be okay. We don't think we'll go bankrupt or lose our house. We know we'll have to streamline and tighten our belts. But we'll be okay.

But then suddenly tonight, in the quiet of the night when everyone was asleep, my mind was racing with the long to-do list (I have one for my personal life of course, but also one for my teaching life). I was thinking about how we will get all of things left to do this school year done in time when suddenly, I found myself thinking about the last day of school. And suddenly, my heart began to break a little....or maybe more than a little.

You see, I'm not electively leaving my school. I'm being factory-style, business modeled transplanted somewhere else. It doesn't matter if I'm an effective teacher, who's made strong and deep connections with staff, students, and families. I am of course, just a 3.6, which means I don't get to stay after my eight years at Seaview. So as I began to think about that last day, my heart began to break a little....or maybe more than a little.

I love this time of the year as a teacher. My students and I know each other well and the things they can do at this time is amazing. They know my boundaries, limits, and quirks, which usually enables me to grant them more freedom to pursue learning in a really organic, authentic way. It's like we work all year to get to this place. So June always seems like the celebration of all that hard work and amazing achievement. Sixth graders are moving on to bigger things and are both excited and nervous for this rite of passage into middle school. I love being a part of that. The last day of school gets to be about sending them off in a cloud of positive energy and everyone leaves feeling happy and euphoric. But this year will be tainted with a darker energy, and tonight, in the quiet, I realized it, and my heart began to break a little.

I'm now afraid for that last day, knowing that I'll also be packing my things and bidding farewell to an amazing group of people who have particpated in the adolescence of my career. They have literally nurtured me through my student-teaching, and watched me grow up, so to speak. I'll be saying good-bye to the building I know, the environment I love, the community that has my former students who are now graduating from high school, touring colleges, and being featured on the news highlighting such things as athletic achievements. I guess I'm struggling...not even about the fact that the time will come for me to bid farewell, but that my time has come not because of my own choices, but because I'm just a 3.6. It doesn't matter that I've worked hard, that I have deep roots in the heart of my school, or that I've invested my passion in this space. At the end of the day, I'm just a 3.6, so away I go.

I'm not alone. This is happening everywhere. This is just one, of what feels like innumerable consequences, of a political and social environment that undervalues and undermines the importance of the school system, and the PEOPLE in it. Maybe that's the biggest source of pain....that we're expected to be the most nurting, compassionate, caring PEOPLE to be effective and "good" teachers. But yet, we don't ge to be the recipients of such expectation ourselves. It hurts more than I thought it would. I don't know why, but I feel embarrassed almost, or maybe just brazenly vulnerable. There's no way to be protected from this horrible mess that politics, government, and frankly a large part of our population has put our educational system in. Just trying to work it out in my head and my heart.

Yours truly,
3.6

But You Get Summers Off......

Oh man, how this phrase, "But you get summers off...." stirs up a wrath of emotion in my house. And not from I, the teacher, so much. I'm used to it, have heard it, am desensitized, know the perception and have gotten past caring. But from the husband of the teacher in the house, who understands from a non-teacher perspective how degrading, demeaning, and dismissive this statement is to hard-working individuals.

Personally, I think we all, by all I mean the entire American workforce, deserve "summers off." Anyone who works hard should have some time to be leisurely. Of course, I'm sure our economy would implode, and then there would be another great onus to put on teachers. I can see the headlines now. "Teachers Set Precedent for Summers off. Responsible for Crash of the Global Economy." I mean if we're gonna take some hits, why not just take 'em all.

But I digress. Let me share why this phrase about our lazy summers, that imply we are simply 'slothing' our way through our careers, is much more defamatory than people realize.

For one, does anyone consider that we didn't ask for summers off? It's just a part of the package. I didn't get to check some option on my contract that says: "Would you like to work nine months and figure out how to live on that salary? Yes or No?" The reasoning for summers off is kind of archaic actually. Back in the day when kids had to work hard and help their families, they spent summers cultivating crops. Their families needed them to contribute for economic reasons during that season, so the school year was structured as such.

Do people also understand that we are not PAID for twelve months of work? We are paid for roughly 9.5 months, that is spread over twelve months. Many, many teachers can't afford to live on a 9.5 month salary, so they seek other employment over the summer. I'd say that even puts us at a disadvantage. Those teachers have to seek employment, go through the process of applications and such, every single year. That's hardly desirable. Lots of teachers also use this time to update their educations, at their own expense. My required updated certification was roughly $10,000. I have the tuition bills to prove it, $3200 of which is still on a credit card.

My husband rolls his eyes when he hears this phrase, I think because he has walked in on me in the wee hours of the night grading papers, tweaking lesson plans, searching for interesting and engaging reading for my students, etc. Part of this is because I work better at night when it's quiet and I'm alone. But part of this is because I simply can't get this done during my contracted work day. There is no exaggeration about it, it can't be done. I am "paid" for a half hour planning time per day. Thirty minutes of planning to cover 4.5 hours of instructional time for 31 students (down two students from 33 last year), who come with such a broad range of need it's unreal.

And here's the kicker. I don't complain about my pay. You can't even add benefits onto my pay scale because for a half-time teacher, benefits are too expensive for me to participate in through the district. So my salary is my salary, period. That being said, I'm not dissatisfied with it. I didn't go into education for competitive salary reasons. I went into education because when I got my first job in a fast food restaurant at the age of 15, the greatest life lesson I took from it was that I did not want to ever again get a job I dreaded going to. That I wanted to spend my career doing something fulfilling and engaging.

Don't get me wrong. I'd love to make more money. Not because I'm greedy, but because I work crazy hard to do a good job. People in the private sector argue that if you work really hard, you get compensated accordingly. Teachers are expected to be EXPERTS in their field. EXPERTS. Most teachers probably expect this of themselves. Washington State believes this so much, that they further shovel requirements on teachers that are BURYING them. The required Professional Certification is a topic for another post, but trust me when I say, teachers are being asked to do more and more, with less and less, FOR less and less. In addition, the expectation is that we take this willingly, with a smile on our face, because we love kids and teaching so much. And to be honest, we are the easiest to take advantage of, BECAUSE we love kids and teaching so much.

Do I like getting summers off? Of course I do! Some years it feels like all I could do to hang on until that last day let out because I worked so hard up to the very last bell. Do I appreciate having summers off? I absolutely do. It allows me the time to immerse myself with my own children, hopefully helping to create good citizens of our global community later on. But do I take offense when people throw that phrase, "But you get summers off!" Yeah. Because in one flat sentence they have negated every bit of hard work teachers do all year long.

Dear Mr. Gates,

I want to begin by thanking you for your keen interest in the education of youth in our country. Sadly, there don't seem to be enough invested for the greater good, of which we educators see the consequence of day in and day out.

While I appreciate your investment into such a vital issue, an issue that is pervasive, important, and urgent in nature, I take some issue with an article I read today. I believe effective change can come from difficult but honest discussion and discourse, and I hope you can also appreciate that.

In summary, this article described your assertion that we should increase class sizes, fire "bad" teachers, and use proven, expert teachers to educate these masses of students.

When I read this, being a teacher who has had up to 33 students in a small classroom, I wondered something, Mr. Gates. I wondered if you would take issue with me if I were to, on a national forum, critique and assert misguided ideas in regards to Microsoft, or the area of technology; ideas from a person who perhaps feels entitled to share them, not based on my knowledge or experience in all the facets of the industry, but simply because I own a laptop. You see, this is how I feel when I continue to read the retoric from people in power, people who have influence, but who's ideas don't resonate with experts in the field. And by experts, I mean the teachers who are trying their damndest to educate, motivate, inspire, and make connections with students everyday. Mr. Gates, I felt there were some critical elements missing from your ideas today, and I would graciously ask for your consideration of them.

To begin with, can SOMEONE address the elephant in the room? While teachers, unions, administration, budgets, and politics are all being skewered for the failing of the education of our youth, rarely, and I stress rarely, do I hear a call to parents and families to expect higher of themselves and their children, much less ideas to share accountability. There are a great deal of parents who do establish and enforce standards, expectations, and values for their children. I also understand that a segment of our population is struggling to stay afloat, so education seems less of an urgent, immediate need in their family. But then the issue we need to face as a system, is how to educate students in the allotted time they get in school, and how to overcome the malaise that is overtaking their drive to succeed and persevere.

The reality is, the make-up of our classroom population is not one in which all students come ready to learn. "All" is not expected, nor realistic, but more and more it seems that "many" are not coming ready to learn. Perhaps they have poor nutrition, have broken families, have parents who are incarcerated, families who are sick, parents who are working two jobs so have little supervision much less enrichment, have little boundaries or expectation of respectful behavior, have little consequence or follow-through at home when such behavior is addressed at school, had little "pre-school" education in their family environment that set them up for success, or have had learning problems so long that their parents deny or dismiss, that each year is cumulatively harder. In addition, year after year they take a standardized test to give them consistent, albeit inaccurate, feedback of how little they have achieved. We have students who NEVER read outside of school hours, who don't own books at home, not because they don't have access but because it's just not a value in their household.

So we have these students. I welcome these students. I pride myself on making CONNECTIONS with these students. They make gains in the year I have them. They don't "catch up" to standard perhaps, because they have a lot of work to do, but they make progress and feel good about it....well, that is until the next standardized test tells them what a failure they are again.

My class, despite its large numbers, is motivated, structured but flexible and enjoyable, and has a variety of differentiated learning so that students can build a bridge from where they currently are, to gain and build knowledge over the course of school year. I have students who are still practicing math facts, and students who are engaging in advanced math opportunities. There are a variety of opportunities that appeal to varied learning styles. I have motivated writers, who write for a purpose that is important and crucial to them.

It's not perfect. I still have work to do. This is one of the most appealing aspects to this line of work. It's never mastered really. Things change, kids change, populations change, so my practice, my craft is always being reflected upon, revisited, and revised as needed. I expect to be pushing my thinking in year 35, just as I am in year eight.

So when you speak about putting more students in my room, I am scared. Not because I'm not confident in my abilities, but because even the most expert of teachers can be stretched too thin. Some of my students struggle to work in a class of 30, and they struggle to work in a group of four. Some of my students would learn best if they could have one on one guidance all day long. Can I do this? No, of course not. But I can do some. If you put more students in my class, as creative as I consider myself, at some point, I can't be as effective. The more students you put in my class, the more you compromise the opportunities for all students to have varied experiences that meet their needs. The more you compromise the possibility that all of my students get to make meaningful and engaging connections with their teacher, increasing their motivation to push themselves.

The next idea I want to address is the connection between compensation and test scores. It seems so blatantly obvious to teachers how ridiculous this notion is, and yet, the idea is getting louder and louder. I am not afraid of being evaluated. I welcome critique and ideas to push my practice to be more creative and effective. I do not, however, welcome the idea of basing my worth on the set of scores my students achieved on one, single, piece of data. We know this is not the best way to evaluate students. We know that authentic assessment is based on multiple data points representing what students know and can do. I would ask that teachers receive the benefit of best practice and authentic assessment, as we are expected to execute this for our students. The idea of linking compensation to test scores is problematic for several reasons.

First, there is no way to fix the variables that influence the effectiveness of a teacher. We don't all have the same sets of students, with the same set of circumstances. If we served the same number of students in each classroom, with the exact, or close to exact, make-up of students who come from the various socioeconomic and social backgrounds, same percentage of students who excel versus students who have learning struggles, than perhaps we could begin making true judgments on teacher effectiveness. I remember back to those science experiments in high school and college in which you fix one variable so that affect of the other variable is valid and measurable. This is logistically impossible in a classroom setting. Teacher A has a small class size with the majority of students coming in with reasonable behavior, and at or close to grade level standard in academic areas. Teacher B has a large class, many students with difficult circumstances outside of school, several with learning struggles, some who don't even have an active parent in the picture. Many of these students have little to no academic or other enrichment out of school hours. Perhaps the 60% of the students "ready to learn" in Teacher B's class pass at the same rate as does the 90% of Teacher A's students who are also ready to learn. Perhaps 30% of Teacher B's class makes incredible gains through effective teaching practices and learning opportunities. But nonetheless, Teacher B will be viewed and treated as a subpar teacher even though the comparison is apples to oranges. How will this improve student learning?

Secondly, I fear what merit-based type pay scales will begin to do colleagues who currently work collaboratively to share ideas. I personally have no interest in making more or less than my colleagues. I'm not in this profession for fierce competition, and that is saying a lot as I am a serious competitor in other areas of my life. I believe this is a community-based effort. The more active participants that weigh in, the better. If our pay begins to be determined by how much better we are than someone else, it will shut down these open forums of sharing we have established. This will be counter-productive to what we are trying to achieve.

Thirdly, teachers and students are not being assessed fairly through standardized tests when they do not have all the resources required to meet all needs. If you fully fund my classroom, give me an appropriate adult-student ratio, perhaps in the form of a full-time aide, and ensure that the supplies needed are present, then maybe we can discuss a standardized test score being one relevant measure, though really, if we had all of the above, we wouldn't need to test kids every single year to prove they were progressing. Imagine what we could do with the excessive costs of test administration, that could actually directly impact and benefit students. Instead we continually use those funds to tell the achieving kids they are still achieving, and the failing kids they are still failing. What a waste of resource, and a misallocation of useful dollars.

Look, we are desperate here...we all are; teachers, parents, and community. But in desperation there is panic, and from this panic people are trying hard to dig into something to fix so that our educational system can get back on track. A lot of groups are latching onto this idea that there are so many bad teachers that it is ruining education. I grew up in public school, and while certainly not every teacher was my "favorite," I cannot really think of a teacher who did not help me progress in my learning for the time I was with them. Even dealing with teacher's that I felt had difficult personalities prepared me for life. Were there some that were more effective than others? Yes, for sure. Should teachers be expected to continually update their skills and improve areas of challenge? Yes, for sure. Will there be an occasional teacher who simply is not fit for the profession? Yes, of course, as is the case with every other profession.

If you believe in these private, charter schools, how is this so different from simply fully funding public education? I think I'm an effective teacher. Would I be more effective in a charter school, simply because I would have all the resources I need, as would my students, regardless of their circumstances outside of school. And if this is the case, why can't we simply fully fund public school to get the same outcome?

I suppose if I wanted to present this paper formally, I would cite specific research and quote some "important" people. But I wanted this to be raw, coming from a teacher, who is thoughtfully and passionately working in the day to day operations. It just doesn't seem like enough of our voices are being heard, valued, and considered.

Respectfully,

Making my way back....

I have, in the last several months, begun to feel like I'm making my way back from somewhere I didn't even know I'd been.

When Luca was born 4+ years ago, it was joyous, in a way that was unique from our experience with Genevieve. Something about knowing how completely amazing this journey of having children really is, seemed to make Luca's arrival even more poignant. With Genevieve it was all a mystery, so many events and milestones that were "firsts" not only for her, but for us, too. We were overwhelmed with love for her and each other. With Luca, it was emphasized in a way, because we knew going how powerful it was going to be.

In all of the joy after Luca' arrival, there were certainly challenges that we had never faced before. First, he was born with a bacterial blood infection that required two weeks of extensive hospitalization. The first six months of his life he was medicated for reflux, and I went on a turkey, avocado, and bagel diet, since that was about all he seemed to tolerate. The reflux finally subsided, but then gave way to chronic ear infections. Our pediatrician's office had a close connection with us, as we traveled there no less than once per month, usually at least a couple visits being just a few days apart. Luca had tubes, of which one fell out the month after getting it in, and eventually the infections turned to sinus issues, though now they're back to ears again.

Probably the most challenging through this time was the lack of sleep. Luca was up EVERY night until at least two, two and a half. Rob and I would tag team him, though Luca actually preferred Rob. I had such a hard time sleeping through the crying as Rob was trying to appease him, that we often would both be up. Lots of hours, every night, every night, was spent rocking, shushing, nursing, bouncing, bouncing more, bouncing with a deeper sway....wow.

Oddly enough, you just find a way. We just found a way. We weren't really all that stressed, though I think I was more affected than I allowed myself to accept. I was tired, had troubles concentrating, had in many ways, relented to survival mode.

Luca is almost four and a half, and although we are still battling chronic ear infections, he at least now sleeps. I guess after three ruptured drums and countless nights of pain, his body finally found a way to override the sensations with sleep....for which we are thankful.

So here I am, four years later, and beginning to realize I'm not as tired. I can make a list again and feasibly accomplish a portion of it. Rob and I can go out for a night and it's not traumatic. We are beginning to feel like a sane family again.

But here I am, four years later, wondering where to go from here. I'm far more out of shape than I've ever been. When I attempt to exercise, it ends up in injury, since between my back, and now my stupid feet, I'm really struggling with "taking it down a notch." This is what my foot doctor said to me last week. He read me, and said, "Take it down a notch." I've never accomplished anything without going full throttle. It'll take longer, require more patience and stamina. This is not how I do things. I DO them. I take the shortest path and work REALLY hard. Slow and steady is NOT the name of my game. Sigh.

So I'm wondering, how do I start to focus on myself again, particularly in this area of losing weight and increasing my strength again. Small steps, right? I know this in my head. I'm terribly logical and could draft a plan. But I'm already annoyed with it.

Maybe I'll keep sorting out my thoughts here. We'll see!