Is it Afternoon Time?

Another "Sunday" posting from yours truly...only a day late... :)

I have a student who at 2:30pm, or so, will ask daily if it's afternoon time. He raises his hand firmly in the air and as I approach, he sits wide-eyed ready to ask me the inevitable question, "Ms. Katie, is it afternoon time yet?" By now, I am used to his quirks especially considering this is the same little guy who asks me to flush the toilet after he uses it because it scares him.

But my answer to his afternoon question was the same every time, "Well, it's 2:43pm (or 2:17pm or 2:30pm), so that makes it afternoon time."  I never caught on as to why he asked me this every day until this past Friday.

On Friday, like clockwork at 2:26pm, he confidently put his hand in the air. I asked him what was up and he asked me if it was afternoon time. I told him it was 2:26pm, so that made it afternoon time. Before I got up from my crouch I asked, "so why do you ask me that every day?"

He looked down at the ground and said, "I don't like afternoon time."

I asked, "why is that? It means you get to go home."

Without a beat he said, "that's why I don't like it. I want to stay here. I don't want to play with grown ups, here is more fun."

His statement hit my heart and I said, "well, Ms. Katie and Mr. McMahon are grown ups, what makes school so different than home?"

He whipped around and said, "Ms. Katie, you're not a grown up, you're a teacher!"

Truer words were never spoken before that moment. My lil' buddy was only foreshadowing my weekend as I headed into work Saturday morning for a "Meet and Play" at my school. Here, there were about 40 kids and 70 parents. My principal came up to me as I was hula hooping with a 5-year-old girl and said, "why don't you introduce yourself to some parents?"

I looked at her, of course dropped the hula hoop, and begrudgingly sulked off to find some grown ups to talk to. In that moment I thought of my little guy and his dislike of afternoon time and it all became clear.

I guess people gravitate toward those they relate to the most; and for me, and for my lil' friend, learning, laughing, getting excited over small things and enjoying a young spirit is our "day time". It is what gives us energy and life, it's what motivates us and it's always a little stinky when the afternoon comes and we have to do the things we don't naturally want to do.

I think it's important for me to keep in mind the thing I told my lil' friend to concentrate on: the positive to the day ending, is that it will begin again tomorrow and we can have the whole day to be together until it's afternoon time and we have to be with grown-ups again but eventually, the day time will come back.

I'm a Cowboy, on a Steel Horse I Ride

Another Sunday reflection with Katie is due tonight.

I sometimes feel like the slow, smooth jazz radio DJ, Delilah as I begin my posts because I feel like I need to be in the right mood to post. I need to snuggle up to my computer, have my glasses firmly placed on my face and my cup of water neatly placed beside me before I can begin. And then I gain this sense that I need to "slow down and share about someone I love" and as Delilah so aptly puts it in her show: "slow down and love someone." So tonight, I am slowing down and sharing a story about a wee one I fell in love with.

His father is the lead prosecutor for DC but he is all of maybe three feet tall and is so incredibly eager to make my co-teacher or me happy. He always raises his hand, follows directions and smiles with a glint of suspicion in his eyes when you are kidding around with him. He is my favorite and I would take 20 of him in my class.

He is four. He is four but his personality is big. He is four and when he gets excited, he fumbles and stutters on his words because the sentence is just too exciting to put together. When at recess he tells me that I have to be the monster and chase him and then when I am doing it wrong he makes sure to help me out by telling me how to be a better monster. When he isn't running from me at recess, he's pretending the bottom half of the playground is his ice cream shop and sells ice cream cones for $2. Then, he always gives me an extra free one.

I have two favorite moments with my four-year-old friend. One, was when we were making a giant floor puzzle this week. He asked me to help and I said I would (of course I couldn't back down from puzzle making). As I was helping and he was starting to get piece after piece to fit, he grew more and more excited. His sentences quickly escalated to "we're doing it! We're getting it!" to the fumbling and stuttering of words. When he completed the border, I looked at him and said "great job, man!" and he looked up at me, with his little brown eyes and got caught up on his words, "you-and-puzzles-and-so-much-and-the-pieces-and-puzzles-and-fun-puzzles-this-is-great-puzzles-and..." (takes a deep breath) "will you be my best friend?"

This is why I teach. This is why a four-year-old and I can hang out for hours and never get bored.

The second occasion was on Thursday. In class, we've been learning sight words. This week's sight words have been "the", "A" and "I". To help the kids learn how to spell them, we hold up pretend lassos and swing them around once for each letter so "t-h-e- THE" would be four lasso swings over our heads. Well, at lunch on Thursday, my new best friend was making a nasty, mean face which made me worried. Why had this once very joyful boy have a scowl on his face? I asked him what was wrong and he said, "I'm a cowboy and I am here to protect this class from bad guys."

I looked at my best friend and asked, "so do you want me to call you Cowboy Tito* now?"

He said, "of course, because that's who I am and if anyone is a bad guy, I will get them."

I said, "well thank you Cowboy Tito. I'm sure glad we have such a brave friend to help us out."

He smiled and said, "Ms. Katie, it's me, it's Tito. But don't worry, I will be Cowboy Tito if bad guys ever show up."

This little man, my new best friend, has stolen my heart and I am so in love with the work I get to do. Whenever I am exhausted or sick of repeating the same direction over and over again, I think of Cowboy Tito and his smile and remember why I do what I do and why my heart truly belongs with children. 

*Names have been changed

The Dance Keeps Changing

Well, it's Sunday and time for another Sunday reflection, brought to you by me!

I survived my first week of teaching Kindergarten. It happened and when all is said and done, I am excited to return on Tuesday.

As my last post suggests, my class is a little nontraditional in that we are a rag tag group of misfits thrown together; including yours truly. Our roster has changed at four times in the last week and the last change broke my heart a little. This is the subject of my reflection today.

My little buddy, Jason*, is 5 and in school for the first time. He has an IEP (special needs) and is an English Language Learner. He speaks Spanish (which I've enjoyed because I get to practice with him) and we've been working on his colors this week. He hates the dance parties we have in our classroom and will throw his hands on his head and look down at the ground in disgust whenever we begin dancing. It's hilarious.

Jason isn't literate in either language and barely knows Spanish. One of our golden moments with him was on Tuesday when my lead teacher asked him if he liked his graham cracker and he responded, "me gusta mucho" (I like it a lot). We were so excited because this meant  he understood the words we were saying. He had some inkling of understanding. Jason gets frustrated in our class because he doesn't always understand what we're talking about and the only way he can communicate this is by crying or calling out in Spanish.

He has a big heart though. When he smiles, it warms everyone's hearts. He has a way of looking at you and making you laugh. He can't hold a marker, barely can hold a crayon (we're working on his motor skills) and he demolished his paper kite when learning how to use scissors; but Jason smiled the entire time, laughing all the way. He's my boy and my lead teacher loves him too.

On Wednesday afternoon, we had another golden moment with Jason. We turned on the music, began our dance party and after the usual hands on the head, downward eyes and occasional sitting; Jason got up and started dancing. Jason started dancing with his classmates. I almost started crying. He was so happy.

On Thursday afternoon, one of my supervisors came into my classroom and informed me that Jason was going to be moved to the non-categorical classroom (the children with more severe IEPs). This broke my heart. As I said goodbye, Jason said his usual, "adios...ahhh..."

The next morning I was walking in my classroom and I stopped to see Jason standing in front of my classroom door. I walked up to him and asked how he was doing (in Spanish) and all he said was, "no" and shook his head. When I looked behind me, I saw Jason's mom and little sister and my supervisor, trying to entice Jason to go to his new classroom. Jason kept saying, "no" and shaking his head. He stood there, with his little backpack on, fighting this change. He knew he didn't belong in that classroom as much as I did. It took 20 minutes, numerous toys, bubbles and my lead teacher to get him into his new classroom. As much as it made my heart happy/proud it also made me sad at the same time; and I also became frustrated.

I don't agree with this change. I believe he has more of a language issue than a special need and we were making progress with him; he was producing English when asked to say it in English and was communicating with us in one way or another. I learned a lesson though, I learned that no matter how much I advocate for him or believe within my heart that this move was the wrong decision, it's not my choice. I have very little say in the situation. I can cry, scream, protest, fight as much as I want, but at the end of the day, Jason is in the non-cat classroom and all I can do is pray he kicks so much booty in the non-cat room that he's returned to our classroom one day.

Until then, our dance parties are a little less humorous and rewarding; still fun, I just miss him throwing his hands on his head in disgust while sporting that huge smile.

*Names have been changed

First Day in the Trenches

Now that my name has been slapped on the door and my first two weeks worth of lesson plans have been written; my time to shine has come.

School opens for us at 8:30am. I got to work as soon as the building opened at 7am because I didn't want any last minute things to pop up. I wore my "dress to impress" outfit that also screamed "teacher" as I stood in front of the mirror in my classroom bathroom...too funny how we dress to fit the job we want or even the job we have.

At 8:30am, they came rolling in and it just took off from there. The statistical break down of my classroom goes as follows: 14 kids total: 7 Pre-K and 7 Kindergarten. 8 are ESL and 5 are special needs. It's a very "diverse" group to say the least but I always think of Mama T and her wise words: "God doesn't give me more than I can handle, I just wish he didn't trust me so much!"

The morning was alright because the kids were on their best behavior and as we approached recess at 11:30am, the fidgets became more obvious and the attention spans became less and less in length. We only had 9 today, but it felt like 30. My lead teacher and I were managing behavior as we chased one child off a table and another from playing around in the bathroom. The boy who climbed on the table also climbed on the window sill, punched me numerous times and ran out of classroom at one point. He has sensory and developmental delays so he's not always the most conscious of his physical actions. When he smiles though, it makes the bruises worth it. His toothy grin, missing one baby tooth, smack dab in the front and blob of hair stacked on top of his head combined with his laugh make his punches worth it.

One child called my lead teacher over and paused for a long time and finally piped up only to say, "Mr. McMahon, I like you." It was an old fashioned heart pat for sure.

I have another child who knows very little English. So I am practicing my Spanish with him. He cannot even name all the colors in Spanish so we're going to set goals for him as well. But by the end of the day, he realized that I was the only one who understood him, who could answer his questions and listen to him so he took to me. He hates dancing, but I am going to try to see past that...hahaha. It feels good to use my degree, to use the strategies I picked up in the ESL Ed. classes and see a child actually excited to be able to communicate with someone.

All in all, I am exhausted, my body aches and my head hurts but my heart is full. It is so full. I was nervous and apprehensive about pursuing this age group and teaching but today, despite everything, I am where I belong. I feel like I took a slight detour of exploration and self-growth and wound up back where I started; where I always knew I belonged deep down inside...these kids are going to continue to fill my heart and then break it once they graduate Kindergarten; and I am excited for that.

Moving Forward, Occasionally Looking Back

I am now one week into my new job and new life, post JVC. I'm not sure if it was in seeing old co-workers for the first time since leaving or moving furniture into my new place but either way, it's starting to hit me now that a new chapter has begun.

I left Miriams with a heavy heart. As I looked around the staff table at each person who I've shared laughs with and frustrations with, I remember thinking, "this was special. These people are special and this won't happen again; this will never happen again." I think the challenge in realizing that is trying to take comfort in that time we've shared together and not dwell in it. I remember a quote my friend from Bellingham sent me that read, "People generally come into our lives for a Reason, a Season or a Lifetime" and I am challenged to view my life changes and transitions with that lens; instead of a "this isn't fair" kind of attitude.

During my final afternoon shift, my departure announcement was made right before dinner, during which a guest gave me one of his paintings. I was given multiple bead necklaces that are now hanging on my door in my new place and said countless goodbyes. A guest who has become a close friend of mine waited until she was about to leave for the weekend and approached me. This guest found out she had breast cancer in early July and we had met multiple times to talk about her acceptance and the chemo process she is doing. She's a tough cookie, but when cancer was staring her in the face, all she could do was coil up and revert in. My outspoken friend taught me a lot about life, love and friendship throughout our three months of getting to know each other. As she approached me, I could see the tears already forming, I could see the struggle in her body language as she tried to hold it all back and she took my hands and said, "You are amazing; thank you for everything. You changed my life, you think you did so little, but you did so much. I will survive, I will survive and I will fight because I now have people fighting with me. I love you so much, Katie." We were clasping each other's hands so tightly; I guess it's all we thought we had to hold on to.

After emptying my desk, I left work at 6:30pm and went home to even more emotional craziness. My community went out to dinner together, came home and watched a slideshow of our year together, shared highs and lows of the year and then Colleen gave each of us a surprise box full of cards, notes and quotes from co-workers. It was a beautiful night with us, just us, remembering and loving each other.

The next day, Britt left. Colleen, Cara and I cleaned and did last minute stuff and by Saturday night, I moved in most of my boxes to my new place. Saturday night was my last night in that house and we all slept in the living room of course...hahaha...can't beat the A/C. The next day we said our goodbyes and each parted ways. I opened the door to my new apartment, looked in and saw plastic utensils and cups, paper plates, air mattresses and boxes and boxes of clothing.The next chapter was starting before I could blink my eyes.

I started my new job Monday. I walked into the school and quickly learned how new I was. I am the only first year teacher and I am the only one who's never taught Kindergarten before. BUT I remember January 2012, when I walked into Miriams as the only one to never work with people experiencing homelessness and I take some small comfort in that. So tomorrow marks week two of my new journey as an adult, with an apartment and a salary. I have a to-do list the size of the Washington monument, but I need to remember to continue to occasionally look back; to occasionally remember the ways I shined when I never thought I would and to remember the people who helped make me shine the most.

It's the Final Countdown

Tomorrow marks the end of my two-year-long journey. Two years...370 days later and what do I have to say?

As I reflect on these two years, I think about my growth and the impact others have had on my life. I re-read old blog entries or journal entries and am awed by the affect others have had on me.

To say I am "Ruined for Life" is true but it doesn't even begin to touch on the growth I've experienced or the experiences I've had. I have been blessed. I am "Blessed for Life" because of this experience. Through finding my inner strength and love of children in Bridgeport to the sense of self and independence I learned in DC, I have changed and I have those around me to attribute it to.

My kids introduced me to myself. They stripped away all my insecurities, my faults, my failures and let me love and be loved for me. They taught me love, Agape love, and I will forever cherish that.

My men and women experiencing homelessness introduced me to pain. They stripped away my stereotypes, my judgements and let me love and be loved for who we each are. They taught me strength, they taught me power, they taught me resilience, they taught me acceptance.

To say I am thankful is an understatement...I am beyond thankful...I am indebted. The Cardinal Shehan Center/Bridgeport, Miriam's Kitchen/DC and all those scattered in between have changed me and I am indebted to them for that. The people I got to know and love, the places I have gotten to see and the memories I have gotten to form are priceless and I am grateful for these past two years of love, loss, tears, laughter, challenge, growth, learning, acceptance and faith.

Thank you to everyone. Thanks Mom and Dad for your constant support and belief in me; thank you friends in Bellingham, friends in Bridgeport, friends in DC and friends in Vancouver, WA. Thank you community mates. Thank you co-workers. Thank you guests, kids and clients. Thank you JVC...I have been certainly blessed for life.

My new mailing address is:
370Taylor Street NE Apt. S32
Washington DC 20017

Love you all!

18 Days Left

The half-lit setting seems so full as I sit alone in this hotel room in Vancouver, WA; the place I called home for 18 years. After visiting with a dear priest friend, high school friends I haven't seen in four or more years, seeing my siblings and family and celebrating the love my parents have for one another at their vow renewal, my cup is full. I remember and appreciate this place, my home, so much and the beautiful people God has blessed my life with.

I have 18 days left.

I have 18 days left in JVC.

I have 18 days left to start processing these two years and give this conclusion its proper diligence. Being here, being in this place where I biked around my neighborhood, hit baseballs over our neighbor's fence, went to dances, worked my first job, got my license, had my first boyfriend, lost my first tooth, had my first alcoholic beverage and experienced so many other "firsts" has reminded me of my roots. It has renewed my soul and fire for loving and keeping amazing people around me and never forgetting where I came from.

It appears that I have let so much go by as I went out and took the world by storm. I have been privileged to fall in love with so many amazing people and places on both coasts but I think, in my independence, I have buried away the stepping stones that have gotten me to where I am today.

My friends from high school were there for me during the really tough times. Ready to make me laugh, cry, drink, talk or watch a movie. They challenged me and accepted me for who I was and I think I easily forget that. So many times, I am looking to the future. I am looking down the road and not looking back over my shoulder at the wonderful and formative individuals who helped guide me down the road to begin with.  

With 18 years in Vancouver down, and 18 days left in JVC, I am ready to not be thinking of what happens after the 18 days is up; but instead, to look back on the road I have traveled and the amazing people waving back at me as I remember.

I'm not sure if you read this, but I really believe it needs to be said and recognized: Thank you. Thank you Nick, Brooklynne, Chris, Missy, Skyler, Rachel, Tat, Bar Bar, Jill, Melanie, and all their parents; the swim team, the Key Club, the Peer Helpers/Mediators club, marching band, concert band, Spanish class, church friends and all the others in Vancouver who made this place such a joyful and fulfilling memory for me. I find myself, looking back, starring at the road and being so grateful, so thankful for your companionship.

My DC friend texted me something this weekend, that I think will best summarize what I am taking back to DC with me, "You are loved and people care about you. Never forget that..."

(Last Day of High School June, 2006)