What Dreams May Come (will inevitably be about school)

I am fairly certain that every night for the last two weeks, I have had a dream about my job.  Maybe I should be surprised that it hasn't happened this frequently in the past given how colorful a typical day is in my classroom.  But it's becoming rather exhausting when I can't even escape the teacher life at 3 AM on a Saturday.

There are two main categories these dreams fall into:


1) The Anger-Inducing kind

Remember this episode of "Friends" where Phoebe is super mad at Ross, but she doesn't know why until she recalls a dream she had about him the night before? Yeah, this happens to me a lot in regards to the people in my classroom and workplace.  To get all psycho-analytical, I suppose the dreams are often an extreme manifestation of some negative feelings I'm harboring towards students or co-workers that I haven't quite worked out in my mind yet.  But then I wake up illogically angry at them for something they didn't even do in real life, and I walk into school, and I inwardly snarl at them a little.  Don't worry, the loathing passes pretty quickly. Most of the time.

2) The Paralyzing-Fear-Followed-By-Overwhelming-Relief-When-I-Wake-Up kind (it just dawned on me I could have summed that all up with nightmare. Well, too late now.):

To continue my Freudian trip, these dreams are most likely the by-product of unresolved worry or fears related to my job and they usually come in the form of finding out I have had 15 new students added to my caseload, my classroom has gone completely out of control, I'm teaching in my underwear, or, the motherload of all nightmares: I've been reassigned to my first teaching job--which you can pretty much imagine as Michelle Pfeiffer in "Dangerous Minds". Except, nobody really learned anything in my school. Just imagine me on my knees, crying out, "Why God, Why?!?!" right before I'm startled awake in a cold sweat (okay, a little exaggerated). Then, I breathe a sigh of relief with the realization that it was all just a dream, and a cat--miffed that I have rolled over on him--huffs and goes to find a more peaceful place to sleep.

How much more lost sleep and angry cats am I going to have to endure before my recurring nightmare dissipate?  More importantly, how can I get back my recurring dream that Justin Timberlake is my best friend and we have the best conversations ever?!

Please advise. 

Committed

On behalf of my entire generation, I would like to apologize.

We, "Generation Y", are the kids of one of the most disastrous eras of recent times, right up there with the feminist movement in my book (put your bras back on, ladies. Yeesh.).  We were among the first to be told that we were "special" just for blinking, and our parents drove us around in cars with bumper stickers that said, "My child is a good citizen at Such-and-Such School". It's no surprise a lot of us ended up getting the notion we were God's gift to humanity without ever even lifting a finger to earn it.  We are the pioneers of the "Age of Entitlement".

There's a lot of nasty by-products that come from this upbringing: lack of responsibility, no work ethic, selfishness...And let me be clear before moving forward that I don't consider myself risen above all the ills of my generation.  Guilty as charged.  But, there's one particular character flaw customary to this generation that I would like to fight tooth and nail:

Commitment Phobia

We sure have a lot of options these days, don't we? Cellphone brands, car makes, clothing lines, restaurants.  Making a choice can be pretty darn overwhelming, and just when you finally get your hands on the latest version of some flashy technology, the new generation is already on its way to the shelves. You have to admit, it's a pretty exciting time to be alive.

The problem is, I think many of my peers have become so accustomed to the "flavor of the week" mentality, they've been led to believe it applies to all areas of life: job, social circle, church, marriage...who can think about signing away 5, 10, 20, 50 years of life away to the same place, people, responsibilities when the iPhone 6 will be out in 6 months?

And what about our personal happiness and satisfaction?  If our cable companies are overcharging us and customer service is rude, we switch our subscription to its competitor.  If our wardrobes are getting boring and outdated, we go buy a new set of clothes.

So, naturally, it stands to reason that if our jobs are getting to be a real drag after 8 months, we start searching for a new one.  If we promised to hang out with some old friends to catch up, but something better surfaces, we break plans and ditch 'em.  Don't even get us started on committing to marriage. Why bother when the generation before us has taught us we'll cut and run at the first sign of things getting really bad?

The further this generation progresses, the harder it is to remember that life wasn't always this way.  Our grandparents endured decades in the same run-of-the-mill job and remained in problem-ridden marriages to their deaths.  True, there were much fewer options for people then. Women couldn't easily obtain financial independence, and job opportunities weren't a dime a dozen like they are today.  But, the children of the "Silent Generation"  didn't hear too much about being *special* while growing up.  If they made mistakes, they atoned for them. If life wasn't going their way, they sucked it up.  And I think that counts for something.

It may be too late for us "Millenials" to overcome our fear of battening down the hatches, though it is one of my crusading points when it comes to helping keep friends accountable. But, there may be hope for the generation coming up behind us, and teachers play a big part.  It's tough to coach an 11-year-old on the virtue of honoring commitments given a 9 month period and their stage in life.  However, it seems to me there are countless other character qualities I can help cultivate in them that play into being able to commit in life:  selflessness, integrity, perseverance, gratitude, motivation, and more.  If I threaten a consequence, I follow through even when they turn on the water works; if an assignment is three weeks past due and worth 0% credit, they're still going to finish the assignment and hand it in; if they're fearful of something, I make them at least give it a try instead of folding.

 I imagine that tough situations such as these were turning points for commitment-phobes of my generation, but they took the path of least resistance and, now that they've arrived at adulthood, they know no other route. As I heard in a news segment called "The Myth of Praise" today, there is a big difference between loving children and trying to protect them from bad feelings. I'm sort of grateful for many of my past hardships today, and my hope is that, with a little guidance from me along the way, my students can one day look back and say that, too.

Mr. Incognito

Mark is a newbie to the world of Miss T. as of December, but he certainly fits right in.  He's the real silent type accomplishing most of his communication through a series of head shakes, nods, and shrugs.  Investigating into what took place during his weekend can be quite the chore, but has turned into a bit of a game for all of us.

Teacher: "Did you see any movies?"
Mark: Head shake
Teacher: "Did you play video games?"
Mark: Head shake
Teacher: "Watch TV?"
Head shake
"Go out to eat?"
Head shake
"Play with Legos?"
Head shake
"Read a book?"
Head shake
"Build a 747?"
Lip twitch.
"Eat a starfish?"
Bigger lip twitch.
"Save a beached whale?"
Split-second, legitimate, but quickly muffled smile. Followed by a head shake.

If I couldn't even evoke a conversation about the free moments reserved for fun in his life, I didn't hold out much hope for forming some New Years goals with him today. Surprisingly, the boy jotted down some realistic aims for the rest of the school year, namely completing homework assignments each night. I was impressed. he's silent, but self-aware.

Now came the time to determine an incentive for reaching his goal. In theory, this would be the easiest part of the task.  But, Mark doesn't do easy. It seemed there was no pleasing him.


Teacher: "Would you like to work toward something from the prize box?"
Mark: Head shake
Teacher: "How about free time in class?"
Mark: Head shake
Teacher: "Lunch with a friend?"
Head shake
"A handshake?"
Head shake
"A pat on the back?"
Head shake
"Thumbs up?"
Head shake
"Round of applause?"
Head shake

It was about this time that Leon stepped in with a suggestion from far left field.
"Hey, what about if he makes his goal, he gets to wear the mustache glasses for the period?"

Ahh, the mustache glasses. The best $11 investment I've ever made to break up tense moments in class and to be completely moronic (per usual).  Yeah, they were great for a laugh and will inevitably come in handy many times in the future. But there was no way that Mark--Mr. Introvert, Mr. Serious, Mr. Blend-into-the-scenery--would go for that.

Just as I went to thank (but no thanks) Leon for his proposal and continue brainstorming rewards, I caught Mark out of the corner of my eye.  Wonder of all wonders, he was nodding.

Little Children

While I can't imagine there are too many people left who haven't grieved in some small way over the events in Newton, Connecticut last month, it seems the tragedy strikes a different chord in different people:  mothers and fathers at the thought of losing their own little ones, police and other emergency workers at the thought of being the first responders to what must have been a horrific scene, and, of course, teachers at the thought of jumping into action to protect the children in their care from harm.

Various stories have circulated about the quick-thinking and valiant efforts of Sandy Hook teachers to save their students' lives, but the most noteworthy are the multiple accounts of teachers who deliberately put themselves in the line of fire in an attempt to shield their students from harm.  While I'm not sure if these reports have ever been validated, they evoke a pretty morbid question in my mind:

Were I in these teachers places, would I have taken a bullet for my students?

When I'm playing the Worst Case Scenario game in my mind, I'd certainly like to think so.  I long to have the steadfast faith of the Columbine High School student who was shot for professing her belief in God and, in theory, I would. But humans are  weak, fallen creatures.  It is not inherent within us to submit or sacrifice. When it's crisis time, baser instincts kick in and it becomes every man for himself. To be completely raw, no matter how much of my time or talents or possessions I sacrifice for others, I can never fully extinguish the innate desire to self-serve. So, I can't begin to comprehend the split-second decision to potentially offer it ALL up in one move.

But when it comes to children, it's a completely different story. When I'm babysitting for friends, or helping take care of my nephew and nieces, or helping my students with their work, or interacting with children in any form, the thought of personal gain is washed away.  Children are so precious and are assigned to all of
our care--so precious that even the incredibly busy, earthly Jesus made them a priority (Matthew 19:13-15).   Completely lovable or a pain in the rear end: they all deserve our protection.

As I watched one of my students skip happily to get supplies for the project he was working on today, I knew that, Yes--were an intruder to ever enter that classroom, I couldn't help but make myself the first line of defense for those children.  I imagine the Sandy Hook teachers that defended their students were simply following the drive that had brought them to their career in the first place: loving children unconditionally.

I Got Skills

During my typical family gathering on Christmas Eve this year, a long-buried tradition was resurrected: the game of charades.  After I had acted out my charade and had it successfully guessed by my team, a couple family members immediately remarked how good I was at the game.  I humbly chalked it up to my years of experience playing with the family years ago, but someone had a better explanation: 

"She's a teacher!"

While I would have preferred, "She's a pantomiming genius!", I knew this person was on to something. There are some things I was born with a natural propensity towards, but there is also another set of skills that have been honed quite unintentionally and without any concerted effort as a result of living my life as an educator day-in and day-out. 

 For better or worse, here are the top 4 teaching habits that have translated into semi-useless daily life skills:

1. Multitasking

It isn't unusual, any given day, to find me writing a pass for someone while giving a lecture to a student about his lack of homework completion, all the while ensuring the rest of the class isn't swinging from the rafters.  Accomplishing multiple tasks simultaneously is a necessity when dealing with children, and it's a hard habit to lose once at home.  If I'm watching television, there's probably some other productive activity going on like online shopping or painting my nails.  I've started a new competition with myself in the mornings during the approximately 35 seconds it takes for the coffee to pour from my Keurig to see how much I can accomplish by way of packing a lunch and making breakfast.  It's a pretty worthless aspiration that only buys me a couple more minutes a day, but don't worry. I won't be taking it to the extreme like the people who brush their teeth in the shower.

Although...

2. Flying by the seat of my pants

I'm almost ashamed to admit how little long term preparation goes into the units and lessons I teach, but it comes with the territory of being a special education teacher.  Sometimes, I don't find out the regular ed. teachers' plans until mere periods before I have to teach. Sometimes, half my class is gone or the students are being such psychotic hosebeasts that I have to scrap my plans.  Sometimes, I'm an idiot and plan an instructional lesson the last day before Christmas break and then I get a clue about 30 minutes prior to the class and have to scramble for a fun-yet-educational holiday themed activity. 

Though it flies in the face of everything I ever learned in teacher prep, and it's not going to score me a Golden Apple Award, teaching on the fly has become somewhat of an art for me, and I'm darn proud of the ability. Also, it is another skill that has followed me into the rest of daily life.  I'll never forget a few years ago when my small group was volunteering at a church-based after school program.  Some of us were relegated to cooking dinner in the kitchen, or setting up equipment for games, but I was assigned to the bible lesson session.  Figuring I would just be helping with some good old bible crafts, I was pretty astounded when a kids bible was shoved in my hand and I was told I'd be teaching the story of Zacchaeus the tax collector.  There were probably a few short seconds of panic, but as any teacher knows there's no room for panic when you have a class full of children staring up at you expectantly.  I threw that kids bible open, sped read through Luke 19 in 20 seconds flat and delivered that lesson without a hiccup.  

3.  E-mailing Expert

I probably average 10 e-mails a day at work to parents and colleagues.  One of my neuroses in life is the inability to let an e-mail go unanswered for more than even a couple hours when I know there is someone awaiting my response, but that is complicated by the necessity to tend to my students for 90% of the day.  So how do I reconcile the two?  I Super E-mail.  Using my previously acquired typing skills, I roll out itemized, multi-paragraphed messages free of grammatical and spelling errors and goodness gracious are they well worded! (Okay, I'm really tooting my own horn here, but I'm talking about my e-mailing skills. I think we can both admit it's pretty pathetic).  I've gotten so good at professional e-mails that I tend to all but black out when writing them.  Many times I have to check my "Sent" box to confirm that I composed the intended response, and occasionally I'm quite surprised at the content as if I'm seeing what I wrote for the first time.

4.  Yelling at other people's kids 

Whether it's the community pool or the Sunday school halls at church, when I come across unsupervised children acting like screecher monkeys , the need to behavior manage is ingrained in me.  I was recently at a Starbucks waiting for someone when it was overtaken by about 8 high school boys who proceeded to all attempt to pile onto one seat, wrestle each other, and whoop and scream at the top of their lungs.  My eyes went from huge saucers of disbelief to narrow slits of loathing as I resisted the urge to give them a lecture on human decency and consideration.  It was when I looked around the rest of the place to find no one else bothered (in fact, one older man who was in danger of being crushed by the pile of teenagers was actually amused) that I decided it was time to put away the ruler and let kids be kids.  Still, if ever there's a band of young hooligans in need of silencing, I'm ready to come swooping in with a loud voice, bleeding sarcasm, and a mean stink eye. 

And there you have it.  Not exactly the items I want listed under my legacy as a teacher at my retirement dinner in 2040, but one day you just may be in dire need of a super e-mailing, multi-tasking, improvising disciplinarian, and you will thank me. Just maybe. 

3-Peat

So, Leon--of stuffed animal fame--is pretty good for a laugh, or five, on a daily basis. He's pocket-sized with an elf's voice, five years behind socially, but also has a finely tuned sense of humor that goes beyond his years.  Lately,  his mornings have gotten exceedingly more difficult in terms of focus until around lunch time when the, er, "necessaries" as we ED teachers code them, kick fully into the bloodstream. 

While this has been a source of frustration for work production, it has been quite the blessing on the comic relief side.  If I had a journal nearby at every minute of the day, I'm sure I would have logged hundreds of quotes or notable events by this point, but I think the last 3 days of the school week were really the most worthy of mention. 

Wednesday

Not surprisingly, homework has been a major issue for the crew lately. Leon seems to be the one exception who rarely misses an assignment.  I attempted to make an example of him this week in Resource class by engaging him in a conversation in front of the whole class about the positive effects of following through with student responsibilities.

Me: "Leon, how does it feel that you get your homework done every night and turn it in on time?"
Leon: "Um, okay?"
Me: "As a result, what do you think your grade is in Resource?"
Leon: "I would say a 1...2...3?"
Me: "What? No, no. Your letter grade. You know 'A', 'B', 'C'..."
Leon: "....ABC...It's easy as 123...oh, oh God. I can't believe I just sang that."
Me: "Okay, Leon focus, here. I asked you what you think your grade is in Resource."
Leon: "Um...an A?.. ABC...It's easy as...oh, God. I did it again!"
Me: "Nevermind."

Thursday

Since he had nothing to work on in Resource, I let Leon start a game of Yahtzee with the substitute aide for the day.  I heard him throw the dice into the cup and begin to shake it.
"Shaken or stirred?" he cried to the aide.  Imaginably a little taken aback she didn't answer. "Shaken it is!" And he tossed the dice onto the table.

Friday

Already quite revved up for the morning, I was surprised when Leon went to the bathroom a few minutes into class. This is not part of his typical routine.  I should have known.  Two minutes later he returned, without a peep,  a foot of toilet paper wrapped around his head in a ninja-style headband.  All the adults in the room silently cried tears of laughter, Leon merely smiled and returned to his seat. Class went on. 

The kid had a pretty solid 3-day streak going. I'm almost sorry the weekend interrupted it...Almost.

The Teacher Haters Club

Last weekend I traveled to a pub with a friend to meet up with some of her old friends, and immediately engaged in some conversation with one of the attenders who had clearly had a few prior to our arrival.  When he found out I was a teacher of yet another district with contract agreement woes, he began an assault on the teaching profession, informing me that most teachers make $80,000 a year, and that when a teacher gets his/her masters, he/she immediately makes $60,000 a year.  "Nope, don't make $80,000...Nope, don't even make $60,000 with my masters," I attempted to calmly interject as he went on telling me how teachers have it made, and ultimately spewed out the core issue of the problem (as an ED teacher, I've become quite versed at getting past all the verbal vomit to arrive at the real problem) which was he is miserable in his current job in finance.  I knew there was no point in attempting to defend the long hours, emotional stress, parental strife, etc. because the guy had "ALL ABOUT ME" scrolling across his forehead at that moment.  So, I went for my little back pocket trick reserved for just such moments when friends or acquaintances start whining about teachers' summer breaks and 3:30 PM releases: "So, why don't YOU become a teacher?"

My conversation partner stumbled for a second before sharing that he had actually thought about just that, becoming a professor or something, but nothing below seniors in high school.  If I had been a real snot, I would have prodded  him as to why he wouldn't be able to teach younger children until he submitted to the fact that teaching is a difficult job that deserves some rewards.

As it was, I don't think I would have time, because seconds later others at the table had joined in on the mob action to whip the teacher.  "Blah blah blah teachers make over $100,000 a year...if they're a gym teacher they don't even do anything...so on, so on."  I was starting to get a bit heated at this point, but I managed to calmly throw out that conversation ending, "So become a teacher if it sounds so good!" Finally, I managed the victory of silencing the conversation after the second round.

But I was steaming for several minutes after the whole exchange, and I had to admit that my pride had been hurt just a smidgeon.  While I feel very blessed by my salary, I'm not exactly living like a queen. Furthermore,  I know plenty of teachers who make far, far less than I do to perform the same job, perhaps even a harder one. Also, while I know firsthand that I have a difficult job, I lay no claim to my job being any more stressful or time consuming or unpleasant than anyone else in the working world (except maybe dolphin trainers. I mean, that is a sweet deal right there.)

So, when did this nation decide, amongst all its many economic ills and struggles, that teachers were the greedy, ungrateful, lazy bottom feeders behind it all? Yes, the wave of teacher strikes in recent months seems like an understandable reason to begrudge teachers if one does not know what they are fighting for, but these strikes have not been the catalyst, rather the backlash to the nation's finger pointing.

I don't need to have people lauding me for my career choice, and I don't need my name or the teaching profession in big bright lights.  But I also make an effort not to roll my eyes and baulk when someone else shares with me their line of work, and I would expect the same from other strangers I happen to meet.

Please be kind to your local teachers, everyone.  It's very likely they've already plenty of abuse from an ill behaved child or two that day while simply trying to help and care for him.  They don't need another dose of ungrateful and disrespectful whining.