Newbie (36 page)

A
fter work on Thursday, we have our first planning meeting for the Girls’ Celebration at the end of the year. The first-grade teachers have all invited a parent to be on the planning committee for the event. I walk behind Mrs. Hays just as she says, “Would you really want your child in a first-year teacher’s classroom?”

My mouth drops open and the woman she was speaking to jerks her head in my direction, then walks quickly away. Without missing a beat, Mrs. Hays says to me, “I wasn’t talking about you. You’ll be a second-year teacher, after all.”

“I doubt that,” I answer. “You have been sneaky and cruel to me since we first met at the interview.” But instead of listening to my defense, she turns away without a word and sits at a table waiting for the meeting to start, a smug look on her face.

After we introduce ourselves, I suggest, “Let’s start by listing what the events have been in the past, then we can make another list for what ideas we have for this year. Karen, could you write a list on the whiteboard?”

Beth starts us off. “Last year, we had a beach party on a Saturday at the water park. It was fun.”

“True,” adds Mrs. Hays, nodding approval at the comment. “And minimal planning.” Her face now turns toward me. “Since this is your first year with us, you don’t know how important it is to make plans that don’t tax our time or energy and diminish our ability to teach well.

I take a deep breath. So that’s how this meeting is going to go. After brainstorming more ideas, we look over the choices: beach party, fiesta, book character picnic, princess party, roller-skating, luau, Old West.

Beth suggests, “We want the students and parents to feel a connection to the school and to each other, so maybe at whichever event we choose, we could organize some games or crafts.”

“Great idea, Beth.” I’m so glad she’s on this committee too.

Mrs. Hays clears her throat and asserts, “I think both the water park and the roller-skating rink will make all the arrangements. And I can speak for anyone who has been with our school community over the years that it is excellent teachers, and not parties, that make people feel they belong to the school.”

After her comment, I smile broadly at her, concentrating on making my voice sound calm and say, “I beg to differ; both are important.”

We stare silently at each other until Lyndi suggests, “Since we did the beach thing last year, let’s do something different. And if our goal is to have people interact, maybe we should cut roller-skating, too. Our list has a lot of other good ideas.” Everyone nods in agreement, and Karen crosses beach party and roller-skating off the list. Mrs. Hays rolls her eyes.

“What looks fun, then?” I ask the group.

We vote and I announce, “We’re having a princess party this year. We’ll get together again next week and put together the agenda. Thanks for helping, everyone.” I’d thought Mrs. Hays would rush for the door, but she chats with the parents and takes her time leaving. When she and I are the only ones left in the room, she picks up her purse from the floor and hisses toward me, “Looks like committee leadership has gone to someone’s head. You’re only doing it because I’ve had to shoulder this responsibility too many times over the years.”

I step into her path so she’ll have to hear me this time. “Maybe that’s exactly why I’m the leader—a fresh approach.”

As I walk into the kitchen, Mina is fixing dinner. “Liam called. He wants you to call him back. He says your phone might be dead again. Hey, he mentioned you’re organizing a school party. Can you find something I could do that night?”

“Sure. We’re having a princess theme. What would you like to do?”

“Maybe I could take pictures of the families. They’re going to be dressed up, right? I’ll make a backdrop with a castle. It will be great.”

“Thanks, Mina.”

When I call Liam back, he volunteers to arrange for some dancing, things the families can do in groups. He thinks it could be for about fifteen minutes near the end of the night. I accept. I’m getting a little excited about how this is coming together.

April 12, 2008

Newbie Blog:

Don’t Ask—I Don’t Know

Teacher assignments for next year are coming up, and I’ve been inundated with questions from parents about who they should request for their child’s teacher for second grade. They have met me as I get out of my car and have been waiting by my classroom door early in the morning. Others have stalked me during recess or lunch. But honestly, teachers don’t know if other teachers are good teachers.

I can tell parents if I like the other teachers personally or if they’re fun to talk to at lunch. If they come to work, make intelligent comments in meetings, or ditch out on faculty duties. And if their room is close to mine, I can even tell parents if they yell at their students when they’re mad. But are they a good teacher? Nope. Unless I’ve watched them teach, I would have no idea. And since it’s my first year, I’ve only watched lessons from two teachers. I’ve observed one teacher every month during math, and he
is
a master teacher.

The other is the teacher assigned to be my mentor, Mrs. Haze. I’ve been in her room twice to observe and haven’t seen her teach yet. The first time, she handed out worksheets, then sat at the table to talk to me about how to solicit donations from the parents. The second time, she had the students open their reading books and listen to a recording of someone reading the story. Then she sat at the table with me and talked about how to average grades, which is important, I guess, if you do a lot of worksheets. The sad thing is, this is how she “teaches.” And sadder, the community rumor is that she’s a master teacher too.

Liam brings Grandma Ruby over to the school on Tuesday. Before she starts meeting with students, she mentions to me that Liam told her about the party coming up. “He said it’s a princess party. I wondered if you had room for a grandma to read princess stories to the kids? I think it could be fun.”

“That’s a great idea. The kids will love it. Thank you.” Liam is the best word-of-mouth advertising our committee has.

As he leaves, Mrs. Hays walks in, carrying a paper. “Sophie, do you have a minute?” Her voice sounds suspiciously nice, and I approach her cautiously. She holds out the paper and I take it. “We need to meet with Mr. Chavez right after school. Please sign the bottom and bring this with you. You’re doing a fabulous job.”

What? Everything from the whine in her voice to the way her eyes flick to me and away, says she’s lying. When I scan down the page, I know why.

As the meeting starts, I offer some ideas for activities for the princess party. “I thought we could have treats, of course, but fancy ones, not just cookies. There’s a bakery called Le Petit specializing in mini desserts. Most of them are beautiful little three-bite desserts.”

“We can’t afford gourmet refreshments,” Mrs. Hays counters, her arms folded so tightly against her chest that I wonder if she can still breathe. She glares at me, almost daring me to challenge her authority on this.

No problem. “I called to see what the prices are, and I think it could work. The budget Mr. Chavez gave me from last year’s celebration is similar to this year’s, and it looks like we can spend a bit more on the treats since we won’t be paying for entrance fees.”

“We could have some pretty but inexpensive cookies to go along with them, and a simple punch,” Andi says.

“How about carriage rides? We can rent two carriages for the evening, and they can give rides around the block. Each carriage holds eight people. The rides will be short, but I think the girls will go nuts for them,” Lyndi says. “The carriage company will take care of all the arrangements, and we won’t have to do any more than pass out tickets for the rides.”

“What a unique activity. I think we should book it,” I say. Everyone nods and smiles.

“Great. I’ll call them back tonight.”

We also include a cupcake walk, fingernail painting, and group dancing to the list of events. I add that we’ll have a photo booth where students can pose for pictures in front of a castle backdrop in their princess dresses and crowns.

“Oo, lets get cut-outs of princes the girls can pose with,” Beth adds.

“Yes, life-sized,” Karen agrees. “We could have some from story books and Hollywood movies. Can we find some of European royalty? I’ll take that assignment, unless someone else wants to do it.”

“Great. Put your name by it.”

“I almost forgot,” I say. “Grandma Ruby is going to read princess stories to little groups in a corner of the gym.”

Beth puts her hand on the shoulder of the volunteer from her class and says, “We’ll do both craft projects—crowns and wands.”

“With any luck, though you won’t be there,” Andi says. “It’s your due date, right?”

“It is.” Beth smiles, her folded arms resting on her stomach. “But I can get it all ready, then you can man the tables if I don’t make it that long.” She crosses her fingers.

Karen writes it down and the meeting gets a bit quiet. This is the time for Mrs. Hays to volunteer, but she hasn’t stepped up yet. I hate to volunteer before she has a chance. I’m really willing to do any of these, so I’d like her to have a choice. But she’s silent. The whole group is. For too long.

Lyndi offers, “I’ll do the fingernail painting, since the carriage rides won’t take any effort after making arrangements and tickets.” Karen writes Lyndi’s name on the list.

Quiet again. Waiting. I can’t take it. “Mrs. Hays, would you take the assignment for the cupcake walk?”

She looks at me and asks, “Is there something else I could do?”

She’s kidding! “No, nothing else is left.”

“Then I guess I have to save you again. Put my name down.”

I bit my tongue—literally. It really does work. Then I look at the rest of the group. “Thanks, everyone. Please email me budget requests by tomorrow night, then I’ll email back your budget amounts. Thanks again!”

April 19, 2008

Newbie Blog:

They Make Me Laugh

My kids say funny things all the time. I’ve written them in the margins of my plan book. Here are some of my favorites:

One of my students has a new baby brother. When I asked him whether the baby looked more like his mom or his dad, he answered, “He’s a ship off the o’clock.”

A girl in my class has been writing about dance lessons lately. One day, she described going shopping with her mom for everything she needed—“I bide pink shoos, white tites and a black lepard.”

Another student wrote this story. “Last wek I was runig at reses and tript and my leg hit the curb and I cryd and mis Jonsun gave me ise. Now I hav a big blues but it’s really green.” When she finished reading the story to the rest of the class she pulled up her pant leg to show everyone the bruise. (Yes, six-year-olds overshare, but that’s a blog for another day.)

They make me smile every day. I will really miss this.

M
y eyes slit open, and I realize that school hours border on an addiction. Even when I don’t set my alarm, my eyes pop open at six thirty a.m. anyway, on weekends, on holidays—even today, the first day of spring break. Just because it happens, doesn’t mean I need to go along with it, so I get up, brush my teeth, and jump back under the covers. It’s nice to just lie in bed and think of anything that comes up. I have considered lilacs blooming, a possible visit to the mall, whether or not I’d like to plant tomatoes in the back yard. There’s nowhere I have to go and nothing I have to do.