At age twelve, my smooth, childhood skin began its descent into what was, in my mind, an adolescent nightmare. The rosy glow was swapped for red pimples, and I spent lengthy periods in front of the bathroom mirror trying to attain facial perfection, often ending up in tears of frustration when my efforts inevitably fell short. I dreaded sleepovers and hockey games, knowing that everyone would see my "real" skin when I washed my face. Many mornings, I wished that I could stay home so no one would see my face.
Twelve years later, no longer a teenager and definitely past the point I thought I would be getting acne, my skin still makes me want to stay home from school some days. My husband can attest to the sad fact that every now and then the tears make an appearance as I lament that twelve years is more than long enough for one person to deal with pimples!
This summer, though, my perspective was transformed by one of my favourite students (who also happens to be one of my favourite campers). Sitting together during free time, my eleven-year-old camper turned to me and said, "I don't know if you noticed, but I started getting pimples this year." I told her honestly that I hadn't noticed, but she went on to explain, "I try to cover them up with my mom's make-up, but you can still see them sometimes." Instantly, I felt my heart break for her. This little girl is so lovely, both inside and out, and I couldn't allow her to think there was something wrong with her because of a few pimples.
I explained to her how I had always been embarrassed about my skin, too, to which she said, "Your skin is perfect!" I pointed out to her the many pimples that were, in fact, on my face that day, and she was quick to tell me, "Those aren't even noticeable! I like your face!"
While I will admit it felt wonderful to hear those words, I knew that I needed to say more. "See!" I said. "Sometimes the things we see as our biggest flaws aren't even noticed by others! Don't waste all the time that I wasted worrying what other people think about how you look. God made you beautiful, and He sees your heart."
Throughout our talk, I felt God nudging my own heart with these words of truth. For the first time in my life, I was thankful for the imperfect skin God gave me that allowed me to share this moment with another one of His daughters. I can't say I don't still have mornings where I wish I could hide my face under a bag (or five). I can say, though, that on those mornings I sometimes hear my own voice repeating what I told my student, and it makes it much easier to look at the face in the mirror and say, "God made you beautiful, and He sees your heart."
Tuesday 22 September 2015
Wednesday 9 September 2015
A Vampire Attack
Perhaps I am alone in this, but nothing is more intimidating to me as a young teacher than supplying in a classroom that has a full-time ECE, Educational Assistant, or other adult employee in the classroom. Certainly there are benefits to having a helping hand in the classroom! They know the routines, the students' are comforted by a familiar face, and they act as a second mischief-detector in the classroom. Still, as a brand-spanking new teacher (with the face of a 13-year-old), I feel a wave of uncertainty crash over me whenever I read a note on the day plans such as, "Mrs. M will be in the classroom the first half of the day with you." My ridiculous internal dialogue goes something like:
Who is this Mrs. M? Is she nice? The kids will probably like her better than me. Is she going to think I look too young to teach? Will she think I'm incompetent if something goes wrong? Will she like my teaching style? Will she tell the real teacher if I have to do something different?
I am sure that most EA's and ECE's would be astounded if they realized how much unnecessary pressure I feel at their presence. Fortunately, my first day in a kindergarten classroom I was saved this trepidation by the fact that the ECE in my classroom was not only another supply, but a supply on her very first job. I must admit that I breathed a sigh of relief upon her confession that she also had little experience in kindergarten, but I later had to wonder whether my lack of fear in her presence was a fair trade for the chaotic day that quickly ensued.
Throughout my placements I had heard many teachers say, "It takes a special teacher to be able to teach kindergarten", and I was not long in that classroom before I discovered why. A kindergarten teacher has to embody a magical blend of fun, creativity, and order, and with two OT's who had never been in a kindergarten classroom before, our "order" was severely lacking. Approximately a third of the students on the attendance had asterisks beside their names with notes of behavioural issues we should watch out for. How are four eyes supposed to "watch out for" 8 students? I could tell that the ECE (who had gone to school for grades 4-10) felt out of her element and overwhelmed at the task before us. Although I didn't have much more experience, the cuteness factor of the kids had me thinking that Kindie-Land couldn't be too bad and instilled in me a false sense of confidence. I pulled out my Mrs. A voice (which is about an octave higher than my normal voice) and got down to kindergarten business.
Despite the 24 kindies informing us throughout the day, "That's not how Mrs. B does it!", our morning flew by without a hitch, and it wasn't until lunch that "the incident" occurred. Throughout the morning we had discovered that one boy needed to be kept a particularly close eye on, so neither of us had left his side during play-time or crafts. Once settled down with his apple slices for lunch, we mistakenly felt bold enough to abandon our post and stroll around the classroom monitoring the other students. Well, this boy must have spent the last two hours itching for the right opportunity, because within moments of turning our backs on him we heard a scream and whipped our heads around to see him pinning down another student while biting her stomach!
Within a half-second, the ECE had lifted him off the other student and set him on his seat, and I checked in with his victim to soothe her and discover with relief that there were no bite marks. As the ECE had a serious chat with our little vampire, I had a brain-wave to check his communications book and see if another incident like this had happened this year. Sure enough, there were multiple notes home to mom about her son biting, kicking and hitting other students, all saying that the other student's parents had been informed and her son had spent recess in the office. While discovering this helpful information for how to handle the situation, I had little time to notice that the ECE was having a minor panic attack at the back of the classroom. Never being one to know how to handle a crying adult, I tentatively approached her and asked if she was okay.
"I don't know", she said. "Was that okay that I picked him up?"
"Uh, yep. He was biting another student."
"Yes, I just removed him from the situation." What she was saying was logical but her frantic tone suggested that she needed more reassurance.
"You did the right thing. It's okay to prevent a student from hurting another one and you did it very gently," I assured her.
"Yes, I just removed him from the situation."
"Yep."
"I just picked him up and removed him from the situation."
"Mhmm."
"We should go talk to the principal, she'll understand that he needed to be removed from the situation."
"Okay."
In our discussion with the principal (who of course knew that this was an ordinary occurrence for our little vampire), I listened to the other supply insist that she "simply removed him from the situation" approximately 7 more times. I could tell that the principal was getting impatient with the ECE's need to repeatedly verbalize her innocence, and I stepped in to suggest that we write a note home to both students' parents and keep the perpetrator in for recess. With these steps agreed upon, we headed back to our classroom to take on the rest of the day.
Though the afternoon passed by smoothly, the ECE remained distracted by the lunch-time events. She continually went through the scenario with me, seeking my approval of her actions (which she certainly had) and worrying that the student's parents might be upset. I really think she was afraid she might get fired for preventing a student from gnawing on the stomach of another 4-year-old. I never thought I would spend more time looking after a fellow adult in the classroom than looking after my students! At the end of the day, I talked her down from the 5-page essay she wanted to leave the regular classroom teacher and left a simple summary which, of course, included the phrase, "She removed him from the situation."
-Mrs. A
Who is this Mrs. M? Is she nice? The kids will probably like her better than me. Is she going to think I look too young to teach? Will she think I'm incompetent if something goes wrong? Will she like my teaching style? Will she tell the real teacher if I have to do something different?
I am sure that most EA's and ECE's would be astounded if they realized how much unnecessary pressure I feel at their presence. Fortunately, my first day in a kindergarten classroom I was saved this trepidation by the fact that the ECE in my classroom was not only another supply, but a supply on her very first job. I must admit that I breathed a sigh of relief upon her confession that she also had little experience in kindergarten, but I later had to wonder whether my lack of fear in her presence was a fair trade for the chaotic day that quickly ensued.
Throughout my placements I had heard many teachers say, "It takes a special teacher to be able to teach kindergarten", and I was not long in that classroom before I discovered why. A kindergarten teacher has to embody a magical blend of fun, creativity, and order, and with two OT's who had never been in a kindergarten classroom before, our "order" was severely lacking. Approximately a third of the students on the attendance had asterisks beside their names with notes of behavioural issues we should watch out for. How are four eyes supposed to "watch out for" 8 students? I could tell that the ECE (who had gone to school for grades 4-10) felt out of her element and overwhelmed at the task before us. Although I didn't have much more experience, the cuteness factor of the kids had me thinking that Kindie-Land couldn't be too bad and instilled in me a false sense of confidence. I pulled out my Mrs. A voice (which is about an octave higher than my normal voice) and got down to kindergarten business.
Despite the 24 kindies informing us throughout the day, "That's not how Mrs. B does it!", our morning flew by without a hitch, and it wasn't until lunch that "the incident" occurred. Throughout the morning we had discovered that one boy needed to be kept a particularly close eye on, so neither of us had left his side during play-time or crafts. Once settled down with his apple slices for lunch, we mistakenly felt bold enough to abandon our post and stroll around the classroom monitoring the other students. Well, this boy must have spent the last two hours itching for the right opportunity, because within moments of turning our backs on him we heard a scream and whipped our heads around to see him pinning down another student while biting her stomach!
Within a half-second, the ECE had lifted him off the other student and set him on his seat, and I checked in with his victim to soothe her and discover with relief that there were no bite marks. As the ECE had a serious chat with our little vampire, I had a brain-wave to check his communications book and see if another incident like this had happened this year. Sure enough, there were multiple notes home to mom about her son biting, kicking and hitting other students, all saying that the other student's parents had been informed and her son had spent recess in the office. While discovering this helpful information for how to handle the situation, I had little time to notice that the ECE was having a minor panic attack at the back of the classroom. Never being one to know how to handle a crying adult, I tentatively approached her and asked if she was okay.
"I don't know", she said. "Was that okay that I picked him up?"
"Uh, yep. He was biting another student."
"Yes, I just removed him from the situation." What she was saying was logical but her frantic tone suggested that she needed more reassurance.
"You did the right thing. It's okay to prevent a student from hurting another one and you did it very gently," I assured her.
"Yes, I just removed him from the situation."
"Yep."
"I just picked him up and removed him from the situation."
"Mhmm."
"We should go talk to the principal, she'll understand that he needed to be removed from the situation."
"Okay."
In our discussion with the principal (who of course knew that this was an ordinary occurrence for our little vampire), I listened to the other supply insist that she "simply removed him from the situation" approximately 7 more times. I could tell that the principal was getting impatient with the ECE's need to repeatedly verbalize her innocence, and I stepped in to suggest that we write a note home to both students' parents and keep the perpetrator in for recess. With these steps agreed upon, we headed back to our classroom to take on the rest of the day.
Though the afternoon passed by smoothly, the ECE remained distracted by the lunch-time events. She continually went through the scenario with me, seeking my approval of her actions (which she certainly had) and worrying that the student's parents might be upset. I really think she was afraid she might get fired for preventing a student from gnawing on the stomach of another 4-year-old. I never thought I would spend more time looking after a fellow adult in the classroom than looking after my students! At the end of the day, I talked her down from the 5-page essay she wanted to leave the regular classroom teacher and left a simple summary which, of course, included the phrase, "She removed him from the situation."
-Mrs. A
Friday 4 September 2015
My Worst First Day of School
With my second "first day" as an OT (occasional teacher) just around the corner, I've decided to reflect upon my FIRST first day as an official supply teacher. Until this point, only my husband and immediate family have known the full account of that infamous day. Fortunately, enough time has passed that I can now look upon that day with a sense of humour, and write this for the overall enjoyment of anyone who can get a chuckle out of my disastrous birth into my Life as Mrs. A.
When I think about my first day as an OT I can see now that it was not a single bad moment that kiboshed the day, but in true Lemony Snicket fashion, a series of unfortunate events. My sad tale begins with my drive to school, palms sweaty on the steering wheel, printed map quest directions on the passenger seat (these were my naive days before bumming a GPS from my dad). Of course, I had accounted for morning traffic and arrived at the school 25 minutes early with plenty of breathing room. All seemed rainbows and sunshine as I introduced myself to the secretary as the Grade 8 supply for the day, who kindly showed me to the classroom and the neatly laid-out lesson plans for the day. I took my time familiarizing myself with the classroom and day plans before heading to the office to collect the attendance folder. Upon entering the office, I hit stumbling block number one when I overheard an emergency supply teacher discussing with the secretary the fact that she was in for the Grade 8 teacher. The secretary asked her if she was sure the call was for *Eastwoods Elementary School, and while the emergency supply responded that she was certain, my mind exploded with the knowledge that I was in the wrong school with ten minutes until classes started! I hurriedly asked the supply teacher if there was another school on the street by a similar name, and sure enough *Eastbridge Elementary School was 5 minutes down the road. With no time to curse the genius who came up with the idea of putting two schools with those names on the same street, I ran to my car, raced down the street, apologized to the Eastbridge secretary for my last minute arrival, and entered the classroom (literally!) 5 seconds before my Grade 8 students.
While quickly scanning the shockingly sparse day plans, my new students bombarded me with comments and questions such as "How old are you?", "Are you a dancer? You look like one.", "You're pretty!", "I love your hair!" Though the compliments were welcome at the time, experience has since taught me that the students who are bold enough to call out compliments are often the students who are also bold enough to call out profanities. We made it through first period math with few hiccups, but the moment we entered the gym second period I knew I was in the trouble. The plans left by the teacher read, "Fun Friday! Students can choose any activity and play inside or outside - monitor from door. i.e. basketballs, scooter boards, frisbees, etc.". Within 5 minutes of Fun Friday chaos reigned, and I had just raised my whistle to bring all the students in when the vice principal entered the gym with a no-nonsense expression. From the look on her face as she approached me I could tell she thought I was foolish for allowing the students so much freedom, and I was faced with the two equally unappealing options of taking the blame and appearing inexperienced, or throwing their regular teacher under the bus for his instructions. I reluctantly decided to show the day plans to the VP, who took it in stride and suggested I move on to a game of dodgeball. I endured the complaints and criticism from students who claimed "Fun Friday is always like this" for the rest of the period, and looked forward to a change of pace when the Grade 7s would enter the gym third period.
Unfortunately, I was rudely awakened when it took less than fifteen minutes of Grade 7 dodgeball before two boys were engaged in a wrestling match on the floor. After having pushed another boy to the ground, one boy was violently kicking his fallen classmate. I will openly admit that I had NO IDEA what to do. Do I allow the kid to keep beating the other while I go for help? Do I trust another student (who I don't know) to get help while I verbally admonish the student? Do I physically restrain the student? Is it even okay to do that?! I settled for a middle ground of sending a seemingly trustful student for help while I simply placed my body between the two students as a human shield. I said a prayer of thanksgiving under my breath as the VP quickly entered the gym and aided in separating the two students, and continued a noticeably tense game of dodgeball once the boys were taken to the office.
I went back to the classroom for a period of planning time (praise the Lord!) before my last period of the day, believing the worst of the day was over. When the Grade 7 students entered the classroom I received some mumbled apologies for earlier behaviour, but instinctively felt that the atmosphere had only become more strained. The students opened their math books and began the day's lesson without complaint, but it wasn't long before a movement in the corner caught my attention. One boy had stood up with binder in hand, and before I could open my mouth to say a word he had whipped his binder at the head of the kid in front of him. I won't deny that a few choice words entered my head and had to be forced into submission before I calmly said, "Please pick up your binder and go down to the office." I was mentally patting myself on the back for my composure when the student sat himself down and simply replied, "No."
Well. Now what? I had always said that I would only send a student to the office as a last resort, but I had never thought about what I would do if the student wouldn't go. Fortunately, the students were quicker on the uptake than I was. "Mrs. A, if someone won't go to the office you push that red button and someone will come help." Who knew a classroom would have a big red button to hit when students downright disobey you? After pushing the button, I spent the rest of the day observing the VP attempt to remove binder boy from the classroom while the rest of the students unkindly called out suggestions on how to make him leave.
When the bell finally rang at the end of the day, I heaved a sigh of relief that I am sure must have echoed through the hallways and been powerful enough to blow my students out of the school. I felt a tautness in my shoulders that would soon creep into my neck and make my head pound for the duration of the car-ride home. I replayed every scenario over in my head and how I could have reacted better, and when I saw my husband that night, I admitted defeat and cried on his shoulder while he told me what a good teacher I was.
I am so glad to say that that first day of teaching was also, by far, my worst day of teaching. There would be many more wonderful days (and not-so-wonderful days) to come, but I will never forget the trial by fire that was My Worst First Day of School.
Until next time,
Mrs. A
*All places and students names have been changed
When I think about my first day as an OT I can see now that it was not a single bad moment that kiboshed the day, but in true Lemony Snicket fashion, a series of unfortunate events. My sad tale begins with my drive to school, palms sweaty on the steering wheel, printed map quest directions on the passenger seat (these were my naive days before bumming a GPS from my dad). Of course, I had accounted for morning traffic and arrived at the school 25 minutes early with plenty of breathing room. All seemed rainbows and sunshine as I introduced myself to the secretary as the Grade 8 supply for the day, who kindly showed me to the classroom and the neatly laid-out lesson plans for the day. I took my time familiarizing myself with the classroom and day plans before heading to the office to collect the attendance folder. Upon entering the office, I hit stumbling block number one when I overheard an emergency supply teacher discussing with the secretary the fact that she was in for the Grade 8 teacher. The secretary asked her if she was sure the call was for *Eastwoods Elementary School, and while the emergency supply responded that she was certain, my mind exploded with the knowledge that I was in the wrong school with ten minutes until classes started! I hurriedly asked the supply teacher if there was another school on the street by a similar name, and sure enough *Eastbridge Elementary School was 5 minutes down the road. With no time to curse the genius who came up with the idea of putting two schools with those names on the same street, I ran to my car, raced down the street, apologized to the Eastbridge secretary for my last minute arrival, and entered the classroom (literally!) 5 seconds before my Grade 8 students.
While quickly scanning the shockingly sparse day plans, my new students bombarded me with comments and questions such as "How old are you?", "Are you a dancer? You look like one.", "You're pretty!", "I love your hair!" Though the compliments were welcome at the time, experience has since taught me that the students who are bold enough to call out compliments are often the students who are also bold enough to call out profanities. We made it through first period math with few hiccups, but the moment we entered the gym second period I knew I was in the trouble. The plans left by the teacher read, "Fun Friday! Students can choose any activity and play inside or outside - monitor from door. i.e. basketballs, scooter boards, frisbees, etc.". Within 5 minutes of Fun Friday chaos reigned, and I had just raised my whistle to bring all the students in when the vice principal entered the gym with a no-nonsense expression. From the look on her face as she approached me I could tell she thought I was foolish for allowing the students so much freedom, and I was faced with the two equally unappealing options of taking the blame and appearing inexperienced, or throwing their regular teacher under the bus for his instructions. I reluctantly decided to show the day plans to the VP, who took it in stride and suggested I move on to a game of dodgeball. I endured the complaints and criticism from students who claimed "Fun Friday is always like this" for the rest of the period, and looked forward to a change of pace when the Grade 7s would enter the gym third period.
Unfortunately, I was rudely awakened when it took less than fifteen minutes of Grade 7 dodgeball before two boys were engaged in a wrestling match on the floor. After having pushed another boy to the ground, one boy was violently kicking his fallen classmate. I will openly admit that I had NO IDEA what to do. Do I allow the kid to keep beating the other while I go for help? Do I trust another student (who I don't know) to get help while I verbally admonish the student? Do I physically restrain the student? Is it even okay to do that?! I settled for a middle ground of sending a seemingly trustful student for help while I simply placed my body between the two students as a human shield. I said a prayer of thanksgiving under my breath as the VP quickly entered the gym and aided in separating the two students, and continued a noticeably tense game of dodgeball once the boys were taken to the office.
I went back to the classroom for a period of planning time (praise the Lord!) before my last period of the day, believing the worst of the day was over. When the Grade 7 students entered the classroom I received some mumbled apologies for earlier behaviour, but instinctively felt that the atmosphere had only become more strained. The students opened their math books and began the day's lesson without complaint, but it wasn't long before a movement in the corner caught my attention. One boy had stood up with binder in hand, and before I could open my mouth to say a word he had whipped his binder at the head of the kid in front of him. I won't deny that a few choice words entered my head and had to be forced into submission before I calmly said, "Please pick up your binder and go down to the office." I was mentally patting myself on the back for my composure when the student sat himself down and simply replied, "No."
Well. Now what? I had always said that I would only send a student to the office as a last resort, but I had never thought about what I would do if the student wouldn't go. Fortunately, the students were quicker on the uptake than I was. "Mrs. A, if someone won't go to the office you push that red button and someone will come help." Who knew a classroom would have a big red button to hit when students downright disobey you? After pushing the button, I spent the rest of the day observing the VP attempt to remove binder boy from the classroom while the rest of the students unkindly called out suggestions on how to make him leave.
When the bell finally rang at the end of the day, I heaved a sigh of relief that I am sure must have echoed through the hallways and been powerful enough to blow my students out of the school. I felt a tautness in my shoulders that would soon creep into my neck and make my head pound for the duration of the car-ride home. I replayed every scenario over in my head and how I could have reacted better, and when I saw my husband that night, I admitted defeat and cried on his shoulder while he told me what a good teacher I was.
I am so glad to say that that first day of teaching was also, by far, my worst day of teaching. There would be many more wonderful days (and not-so-wonderful days) to come, but I will never forget the trial by fire that was My Worst First Day of School.
Until next time,
Mrs. A
*All places and students names have been changed
Back to School
It's that time of year again. Mothers pushing practical running shoes while daughters beg for sparkly ballet flats, soon-to-be grade nine girls carefully selecting their first-day outfit, full-time teachers pouring over lesson plans and school supplies, and occasional teachers (ahem…me) crossing our fingers that September showers us with supply calls and smiling students.
Throughout last year's school year, I made a habit of posting funny quotes from students on my Facebook account for the amusement of my Facebook family. There are so many times during a teaching day that I wish I had an adult there to enjoy the adorably funny things that students say to me that I often find myself making the following mental note: "Remember this! (Insert Name) will think this is hilarious!"
I've had a lot of positive feedback on these posts, and I love the idea that others can also take joy out of the little moments that make me adore my job so much. For this reason I've decided to TRY REALLY HARD to write a blog on my "Life as Mrs. A". This will be a collection of the greatest quotes, the "rough day" stories, and the heart-melting moments.
I hope you will enjoy a walk in the shoes of a Canadian supply teacher - I know I do!
-Mrs. A
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