She's BACK!

Remember that children's move, when a bunch of dinosaurs come back and take over New York City (the animated version of Jurassic Park, basically)? I'm back, though not as a dinosaur.

Stumble with me through some seriously bad writing on my way towards some decent writing, will you? This is a personal exercise that I'm sure will remain fairly personal, but it's a journey I'm eager to embark upon. Writing kept me sane before... perhaps it will help to keep me there again.

My New Job... an Overview

The majority of my work right now is preparing for my role as a Parent-Child Educator. I am working for an organization called Metropolitan Family Services, an agency with a 157 year history. Jane Addams sat on their board at one point... it's a fairly amazing place to be :)

The project that I am currently working on is the opening of a new site for MFS. Here is a summary:

Serving the communities of Englewood and New City/Back of the Yards, Metropolitan Family Services is establishing a lEarning and Wellness Center. The Center will create an optimal learning environment by integrating early learning for children and their families with a spectrum of family supports. This Center will provide high quality full-day pre-K for 94 children ages 3-5 years and high quality full day early learning and care for 28 children ages 0-2 years. The Center will also provide home visiting services for 36 new families to empower parents as they become their child's first educator. (MY JOB!!!)

Metropolitan Family Services has identified a scope of service that will build on family assets and strengths, as well as community resources. Comprehensive resources out of this site include:

• A Family Wellness Center will be available for all area families to come together for health education, access to physical activity, and peer support. Included will be the provision of integrated health and mental health education, referrals and supports for access to pediatric health care, pediatric mental health services and emotional wellness groups. 
• Nutrition education, cooking classes, and access to a mobile food market will be provided by established partners in the areas of urban gardening and healthy foods distribution. 
• Parent engagement and family focused wrap-around supports will meet the social service, economic, legal, and educational needs of the family. Services will include parent education, job readiness training, income support services, financial literacy workshops, and foreclosure prevention assistance. 
• Services provided out of this site will be trauma-informed to meet the needs of children and families who are living with the effects of trauma in their past or present. Metropolitan Family Services will bring together new information on trauma, brain development, and the causes/solutions to emotional challenges and weave this information into learning theory and academic strategies. 
• A Family Lending Library will be available and will provide home-based literacy kits, books and materials for young children, and parent-focused materials on career development, GED tutorials, computer training, and parent development. 

RIGHT? Agh... so flipping cool. 

Autumn

Fall has always been a time for new beginnings. While the world around me begins to fade away, I wake up inside. I make new decisions. I start new lifestyles. I begin new careers and move to new places and experience an awakening of sorts.

I began what I thought would be a dream life last autumn, and I watched it fall apart in a devastating way before the first snow greeted the city. I stepped outside of myself and watched the self-destruction from afar. The days passed quickly into weeks and then months, and the chaos spiraled around my body, my body without me inside of it. I had gone somewhere else, somewhere distant and cold and lonely. I ached for connection and looked for it in places it didn’t exist, unable to hear the calls of the people searching.

I believe that people, on a fundamental level, don’t intend to hurt others. They aren’t ill-spirited or malicious, and yet the wounds they inflict don’t hurt less because they lack spite. I was damaged by people in ways I’ll never fully understand. I watched myself get struck, again and again, without comprehending the why. The blows rained down from my own lack of confidence, the people I allowed into my life, and the people I pushed away. I was in so much pain, and unable to find the strength to care.

My new beginning starts now. The daybreak of this first day of autumn in the year 2013, I pledge to renew myself. It has been developing for many months, but today is the day that I decide to remember. I will remember who I am and what I’ve done. I will remember what I have to offer and what I hope to accomplish. I will remember that I am beautiful and treasured and worthy of love. 

I attended an event this morning, at sunrise, called "Art is Bonfire." I had no idea what to expect, but I do know what I wanted it mean to me. Fire is destructive, but it also cleanses. Fire terrifies me, but it also creates space. Fire will destroy the last year, and fire will help me begin again. It was all of that, and more.

I put my hurt into the fire this morning. For me.

From a Card

"You're more than I ever expected and not even close to as great as you're going to be."

18 words just made my day.

New Life... Commence!

It's my 25th birthday. I start a new job. I have a new roommate. I am in love for the first time. 

Whoa man. 

Why Do Men Want to Fix Things?

Being in a relationship has brought to a boil many of the questions I have about men. I grew up with boys, had male friends, and had a strong father. I'm familiar with men, but I'm not familiar with men who want me. I don't know how to react when he wants to fix something, or wants to protect me. It's sweet, but I was curious about the feelings that inspire it, the emotion that provokes the desire to fix.

My male friend explained it to me tonight:

"You want to be the source of good. You want to be the one and only, in that moment, who makes her life complete. So there is a rush to fix things because I want to be related to that feeling. It might be the worst feeling to know that someone you care about needs to go somewhere else to feel better."

It never annoyed me, but now it astounds me.

21 Years

For the first time in 21 years, I am not going back to school this fall. I'm not a student, and I'm not a teacher. I'm watching my friends and former colleagues post on Facebook about their back-to-school routines and tasks. I'm seeing pictures of classrooms and children all dressed up. For the first time in my recollection, I am no longer a part of this culture. 

Instead of going back to school, I'm starting work in a new career field. At some point about eight months ago, I stumbled upon the fact that I don't want to teach, and about five months ago I came to terms with that realization. I hold dear my memories in the classroom, and remain grateful for all of the training I had. I wouldn't trade my years of teaching for anything, and still admire teachers as the superheroes they are. For me, however, it is time to move on. 

On my 25th birthday, I'll start a new job that will lead to a new career. I'll still be educating, just not in a traditional classroom. I'll remain an educator, no matter what I end up being... but this is my first autumn that will be spent doing something OTHER than school. I am both terrified and excited. 

Apartment Overhaul

My parents kick my butt sometimes with how amazing they are. In my search for a new roommate, we've created a bedroom/study of sorts in the converted living room. The dining room has combined with a living room, and we added to the kitchen and bathroom. Check out these pics- what a warm space!

Looking into the new bedroom space

View from outside the building

View of the hallway from inside the (now empty) bedroom

Looking through the living room/dining room to the kitchen

Kitchen- new shelves and decor

New shelves again in the kitchen

View into the hallway from the living room/dining room

Other side of my new bedroom/study

The now empty room- waiting to be filled by a lovely roommate 

Another shot of the new bedroom/study space

Living room/dining room

Oh, Fifth Grade

The difference in maturity levels within my fifth grade class is rather astounding. Some of them are still very much babies who play with toys, and others are growing into young adults with all of the awful things that come with that. Today I overheard a very dramatic girl mentioning why she likes a certain male security guard of ours. He is rather good looking, but all the same, I wouldn't say that he has a "FINE" adam's apple. Just not the feature I'd choose to highlight.

In other news, I mentioned to my fifth graders today that it is my life goal to make a graphic organizer that allows for comparison and contrasting that is not a Venn Diagram. I never am able to make enough room in the middle for the comparison section, and the whole non-linear thing is rather annoying to me. One of my students said "Ms. Sablich, just draw lines like these!" She held up her paper and had drawn three columns. "It's a Venn Lineagram!"

Appropriate

There is a third grade cartooning class that meets in my classroom as part of the after school enrichment program. Today they are drawing a winter scene. The enrichment teacher in the room is a bit... well... let's just say she makes me feel like a really great teacher.

When you tell third grade students to create an appropriate winter scene, how do you think they respond to that?

"So no bloody dogs?"

"We can't draw Santa with the milk maid?" (Umm.... huh?)

"Death is out?"

And my personal favorite- "I guess frozen people wouldn't be appropriate either, huh?"

No dearest, it isn't.

The Magic

(At the tail end of an absurdly long day)

"Ms. Sablich, I keep falling asleep and I keep trying to stay awake but I keep falling asleep."

"Okay buddy. Um, oh! I have a magic trick to wake you up. Keep your hands up and snap your fingers three times." (Yes, I realize that I'm a terrible person for manipulating nine year old children.)

Student returns to seat, attempts the magic.

"Ms. Sablich, I can't do it because my finger hurts and the doctor said it would be Friday before it stops hurting so I can't do it until Friday."

"Um... okay. That kind of stinks. Does your finger hurt right now?"

"No, but it won't stop hurting until Friday cause the doctor said."

"Ummmm..."

Student returns to seat.

"Ms. Sablich, I thought cause it was magic then I would learn how to snap. But I didn't."

I love these kids.

Emotional

I'm a teacher of preteen girls. This wasn't such a huge issue... until they realized it.

"We got all kinds of hormones goin' on up in here."

It didn't help so much that I was emotional today too. I only cried three times.

"I guess Ms. Sablich got them hormones too."

Yes baby, she does.

Well Then

Just in case you wondered.

Weekends with a Teacher

Since I have spent the last week crashing with friends of mine whilst on the hunt for a new apartment, I have learned that weekends with teacher Stephanie are not unique. Perhaps when I have a bit more understanding of what I'm doing things won't be like this. Perhaps someday I will spend just 5 hours on a Saturday afternoon planning lessons and preparing for the week.

For now though, here we are.

It is Sunday evening, and I took Friday night off.

It is Sunday evening, and I worked a total of 18 hours since leaving school at 5:30 on Friday evening.

It is Sunday evening, and I had a 61 item to-do list this weekend.

It is Sunday evening, and I have worked 73 hours in the last week.

It is Sunday evening, and I feel guilty about the time I spent relaxing.

it is a good thing I love my job.

Bring it ON, week five. Behavior system, phone calls, small groups, pointless half-days... bring it ON.

Age Issues

Being a relatively young teacher, I do a very good job of convoluting the amount of time that has passed since my birth, and exactly how many years of experience I have. This is important in the younger grades so that parents see me as nothing but an authority, and when I taught high school it was important for very obvious reasons. So, my standard age that I tell people when they ask is 67. 

It is amazing what kids will believe. 

Yesterday, I was reading a Magic School Bus book with my fifth grade class. While they were settling in, I mentioned that the Magic School Bus series was a collection of books, before the television show. I said something about how I was about the age of many of my students when I was watching the shows, and that I was 8 when the book we were reading was published. The paraprofessional in my room asked when the book was written, and I said "96." He looked amazed, and then three seconds later a student burst out with "But Ms. Sablich, that means you're NOT 67!" 

No darling, I'm not. 

Guess What?

When I first started working in a classroom, I tiptoed around issues. I used nuanced language and said convoluted things in an effort to get the kids to like me. 

"Buddy, we just don't do that, okay?" 

"Hun, can you please stop doing that?"

"We all just want to be nice to our friends, right?"

Two years into this, this is how I speak.

"(Student name). You are NOT following my directions."

"(Student name). STOP. NOW."

"You're acting mean, and people aren't going to like you if you do that."

I have found that frank, pointed conversations are best. They are most effective, and they resolve issues quickly, without wasting too much learning time. This morning, my students got a dose of a very frank Ms. Sablich conversation. 

(Stern voice) "Guess what? I'm not your friend, and I don't care if you like me. My job is not to be a nice person. My job is to teach you things. If you are wasting time and stealing the learning opportunities of others, you WILL get a consequence. I don't get paid to hear excuses and put up with nonsense. I get paid to make you the best students you can be." 

Then, like any good teacher, I feign a bit of a personality switch.

(Sweet voice) "Of course, if you happen to love me being your teacher, that makes me feel great."

(Stern voice) "But that is NOT my main job."

We had a good morning. 

Oh, We GOT This

Children of divorced parents often discover the opportunity to misbehave all too easily. They play one parent against the other and win sympathies they wouldn't otherwise have extended to them.

My students play the same game, apparently. Because I teach both fourth and fifth grade, they have the opportunity to attempt to win the support of the other teacher, when they aren't in my class. Unsurprisingly, this typically happens after they had a difficult experience with me.

Sample:

"Dear Miss V: Ms. S said that I pushed D~ but I didn't so this is what happen we walked in the class and he was playing in the line then I exidtly (note- accidently, excitedly?) pushed him to tell him could you stop playing in the line. Then Ms. S thought it was a big push like to push him on purpose so I got a D (note- for not following directions) but I talked to her about what happen and she said that it was okay and she said that you can erased. (note- absolutely NOT true... she talked, I said "you pushed him") And the talking one was not me she had made a mistake about me talking I am not suppose to have a strike because I talked to her so that is what happened about the story I am not suppose to have a strike She made a mistake what happened If you want to talk to me you can but I leave real early so I just wanted to let you know. So I am not suppose to have strike thanks for listening and I love you very much! So can you give me a warning just like everybody else in Ms. S (note- NOT true... I'm crazy strict) and it won't happen again! I prmess it won't happen again!!!"

About 10 minutes later Ms. V walked this note to my room for me to read. We don't play, kiddos. Except for the same team.

I Promise I'm White!

The psychology of the racial relationships between black students and white teachers is becoming incredibly interesting to me. Some of my students seem to get it- I can still care about them and they can trust me, even though I'm white and they are black.

Some, however... just don't totally follow.

I have one special student who  is rather young emotionally, and intensely racially curious. She has asked me many many times what my race is, and each time I explain to her that I am white... and WHY I am white.

"Miss, is you white or black?"
"S~, I'm white. Remember, we talked about this last week?"
"Yeah, but like... you is nice."
"White people can be nice too. We are all just people on the inside, even if we have differences on the outside."
"Yeah, but..."

I talked to another teacher who has this student, and it seems that for this student, good teachers who are white progress slowly to being black as trust is developed. This relationship of trust and care must be reconciled with the racial "separateness" that she feels, and so every white teacher with whom she has a relationship becomes a light skinned black person.

Until yesterday, when I heard this...

"Miss, I like your hair. My hair is nappy."
"No way! I have ALWAYS wanted hair like yours!"
"Nah, Miss. You got that nice hair, that nice Chinese hair."

We've got some work to do.

Females

I have been rather opposed to the use of the word "females" to describe women for some time now. It just sounds disrespectful in a way. Humans are animals, sure... but we are more than animals as well. I am a woman, that human over there with a penis is a man, and that's that.

This idea that it is disrespectful was further reinforced by a student of mine last week.

I suppose I was being rather disrespectful as well.

Me: "I'm observing a lot of students talking, calling out, being mean to each other. What I'm inferring is that a lot of you are annoying."

Student: "Y'all are acting like a bunch of females."

I literally didn't even know what to say.

Updates from the Front

As if I was in a war or something.

Right... I understand that I'm not in a real war, and my life is not at stake here. I understand that no one will invade my country if I stand down from my post. I totally get that the "front lines" of this battle involve no more physical risk than that of dehydration and sunburn, and that the physical violence is limited to some risk of being trampled.

I have no idea what it is like to be a soldier, and I never will. But goodness, it feels like a war... so let's talk about what is at stake.

At stake is the entire concept of public education. At stake is the notion that teachers should be respected professionals. At stake is the idea that black and brown students don't matter. At stake is the thought that corporate power can dominate public interest. At stake... is the future for my students.

It's a big deal.