Educational inequities

I tell my students no whining. "My dad didn't let me whine. He has a sign up in his office that says NO WHINING. This is what a whine sounds like: [insert my best whine here]. You will not whine." But what I really feel like doing right now is whining. Ranting, perhaps. I feel that I do that enough with my coworkers, and David, and my mom, and my friends...but sometimes...the positivity I try to keep in my classroom makes me want to be Negative Nancy after school. In the classroom, if a student tells me "TEACHERRR SHE'S LOOKING AT MEEEE" what I really want to do is tell him/her: "IT DOESN'T MATTER. YOU'RE BEING RIDICULOUS AND SILLY. STOPPPPP!" in my best whining voice. Yet instead, teacher voice wins and I give a look, patiently (or not quite as patiently) tell them to look at someone who's making a nice face at them (like me) and then I smile huge and try to get a laugh, and continue. Some days this is very, VERY hard. There could be worst things. You'd think I'd be used to the falling out of the chairs, repeating each other, tattling, and touching everything that is so customary of first graders. Oh, I'm used to it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't drive me bananas. Sometimes I'll even tell that to the kids...well, more so in the frame of "stop acting bananas." ARGH. I didn't even have a bad day. But I have this itching to just let it all out....the frustrations and gripes I have with the education system I work within. I want to complain about things far beyond my classroom, about inequities that exist in this world and this country everything that is going wrong with education in general, but particularly with urban education and the areas where families and children need the MOST opportunities and resources to be able to survive, let alone thrive. I am SO incredibly happy to work where I do, in a beautiful community with so much to offer and so many brilliant, inspiring people. I will not pretend it is not hard, though.
I am also exhausted. I am exhausted and I am not even working myself to my full potential. I am not as exhausted or overworked as some of my coworkers. I make sure I get time to take a bath everyday and to leave work at a reasonable hour (5:30 is usually my limit of being able to stare at my walls or the papers surrounding me and decide to give it a rest.) I then come home and work on differentiating or creating materials until bedtime, usually. But I have a wonderful roommate (slash boyfriend) who makes dinner most nights, helps with correcting papers or cutting laminations, and gives fabulous advice on what I should do for lessons. I have a supportive work environment, principal, and coworkers. Most of the parents of my students are dedicated to their students' learning, sweet, and trust my decisions for their students' learning. In the grand scheme of things, I've got it really easy.
And yet...I feel conflicted when looking at popular teacher blogs from all over the country. I am so pleased by the high level of rigor and talk of differentiation and essential questions and on and on, and I've personally learned so much from looking at the lessons and experiences of teachers from throughout the country. The internet is truly a beautiful way to collaborate, share, and commiserate. Yet what I see makes me realize at the striking disparity in this country, that grand difference between the haves and the have-nots, the access to not only a better education, but a more fun, multi-faceted one too, that's laden with art activities EVERY day, and P.E. teachers who have actually studied kinesiology, and elaborate class parties where teachers don't stress out about missing 30 minutes of valuable instructional minutes. I see clipart of white children or tan children with white features on lots of these activities, and I see the heroes and holidays approach to teaching multiculturalism in so many teachers' classrooms across the country. I am in awe of what these teachers are able to accomplish, and then I notice that most of them are in homogenous communities with teacher aides and parents helping out in the classroom. Most of the families in my community work long hours and speak a language other than English at home. I have lots of help in terms of field trips, but most days I am the only one in the room with these children. I feel like I am failing them sometimes..I want to be super-teacher and do everything, much like a lot of their parents are doing...EVERYTHING. I feel discouraged when I look at these blogs and see what some children are experiencing (multiple adults in a classroom, parents who can afford to send their kids on multiple field trips, freedom of curriculum, art, music, science EVERY DAY, etc, etc.) and I think about what our students experience and the limitations placed on communities in need. We are so incredibly privileged to have what we have at my wonderful school, but the reality is...those in power get more, those with less power get less. I see beautiful student handwriting, perfect grammar, and incredible learning experiences. I see smartboards and craftivities and I just feel like this shadow of a teacher...
And then I realize, I'd rather work here than anywhere else. I have lots of opportunities, I get to teach children who have a unique experience in this country of ours, and I am appreciate of my own privilege every single day. I get to think about race and fostering English in these students, and what access it will give them to speak, read, and write in two beautiful languages. I am humbled by their parents' experiences of hardship and violence in this community, and I am reminded of resilience and brilliance in children whose odds are all against them. I am so very lucky to do this job I do...and from the whining and ranting comes these realizations. I still feel this intense bubbling in the pit of my stomach when I think of all the injustices innocent children have to endure because of the power structures of our nation...and yet, I'm grateful to be a part of the road to close these achievement gaps and to at the very least give these students a safe place to come to day after day.

What's really said in Room 157

A list of things that are said daily in my classroom... by the students or me
"TEACHERRRRR....I NEED TO USE IT!" "Show me your silent signal." "Oh."
"Get in your rug spot...NOW." "But she..." "NO."
"Let me count how many people are in their rug spots looking up here...1..2..3...15..16..KJ Where should you be? KJ you have 3 seconds...Okay, now you're wasting your....(everyone chimes in) LEARNING TIME!"
"Warning. 2nd warning...good bye."
"I am invisible." "But, what is this word?" "Go ask a friend." "But..." "GOODBYE"
"Ms. Estrada can I touch your shoes? They look so soft...oooohhh." "Me too?"
"If those become distracting, they're mine. I love wearing pretty necklaces/playing Pokemon/flying mini paper airplanes at home. David does too."
"Ms. Estrada... I have candy in my lunch. Here you go. I get it after school?"
"Ok, you have ten seconds to get to your rug spots." MS- "I'M ALREADY IN MY RUG SPOT!" This happens, without fail, every day.
"Ms. Estrada I didn't get water." -IB "You didn't?" Shakes head. "Okay.." "TRICKED YA, YES I DID!" Also, without fail, every day. I still fall for it.
"Ms. Estrada she's looking at meeeee." "I'm not in charge of her eyes. Ask her to stop."
"This is not a beach. Sit up on the rug."
"We are not in the beauty salon. Keep your hands on your OWN hair. She doesn't like it when you touch her hair."
Mean look..."Ahhh Ms. Estrada's a MONSTER!" Giggling ensues, including myself.
And, yes... "I love you." "Can I help you?" "Will you please stop tapping your pencil?" "Can I borrow your glue?" "Do you want to read with me?" "I'll be your friend!" "We can solve this problem!" "We are SO SMART!" "I am pretty and smart (this from one of my pudgy girls...makes me so happy. I constantly tell her how smart she is...she came up with the pretty part from her parents and herself. She really is beautiful...I just love her strong sense of self-worth, without being boastful. Just so matter of fact.) "Ms. Estrada can I...oops you're invisible. Sorry!" "MS, I'm sorry I used a loud voice with you. Shake hands?" "JB is so smart now! Look! He's telling time! (says LA after patiently teaching him the math center)" "Ms. A told us The Lorax book is even better than the movie and we are so lucky to get to read it!" "Dr. Seuss is real? Or not real?" "That green guy with no face is MEAN. I want the world to be beautiful." "We made up a game at recess...we were detectives! We were trying to find KJ...but we couldn't...oh look...there she IS (sitting at her desk in class.) Clapping ensues" "Yesterday I was in my bed reading your beautiful, smart writing....(everyone chimes in) WITH YOUR HOT CHOCOLATE!" "Our surprise is David?!" "Not today..." "Can we have a hot chocolate party? With marshmallows? And reading?" "BOOKS!!!!! I LOVE BOOKS!"
<3

100 days of drama

What a week. Students telling eachother they're going to kill eachother's families (this in lieu of the so much more standard "I'm not gonna be your friendddd.") Needless to say, it's been dramatic. I say this lightly, but I didn't and don't take it lightly. First graders should not be threatening to kill eachother's families. One student said it and it spread like wildfire in my room and ended with a huge group of children problem solving in the office and me having a very serious conversation with a student's mom about bullying (she is from Cuba...and she told me while Cuba has immense political problems, students never bully one another, aren't a part of gangs, etc, and she's adjusting to this incredibly different reality that comes along with living in the United States, most specifically...Oakland.) Despite everything, we had a pretty good week.
Valentine's day was overwhelmingly filled with love, gifts, and hugs. I loved every moment of it and I think my students did too. We celebrated the 100th day of school that day, sharing what we would do when we were 100 years old (lots of my students are apparently going to be riding their awesome motorcycles and others will be serving tea to all their friends), making necklaces with 100 cheerios, and drawing sets of 100 things. I spent Friday testing my students in reading and found that they all have grown and got some insight what I need to work on (fluency, fluency, fluency!)
Now I sit amidst incredible beauty in Murrieta Valley for President's Day weekend, relaxing, sipping coffee, enjoying drinking beer (since I have been limiting myself during the week) and eating delicious, fresh food. Feeling refreshed and excited for the week to come. :)

An ode to Mimi Helen and my students

Two nights ago, my mom's mom, Mimi to me and my brother and sister, died at 90 years old from pancreatic cancer. We only found out about a week ago she had cancer; the obvious symptoms did not show until the very end. Mimi was quietly strong, compassionate, perhaps shy, unassuming, and, above all, incredibly sweet. Not a negative thought seemed to cross her mind, not an ill-sounding word escaping her lips. She loved her family, especially her daughters, and quietly sat as an observer at most family functions, laughing at the antics of my cousins on my dad's side, proudly smiling at her grandchildren on my mom's side. She was forever accepting... my Mimi Grace just told me a story about the first time she met Mimi Helen, at the bank right after my parents started dating. Mimi Helen spoke highly of my dad, despite my grandfather's disdain at his dark-brown skin (He grew to love my dad as his own son...but at first he hesitated at letting him in their home). In third grade, I wrote an essay dedicated to Mimi titled "My Hero: Mimi Helen" I can only hope to become a woman like her: humble, patient, and kind. She is the epitome of this for me and my family--my Mimi Grace would say saintlike. My sister, Mom, aunt, Dar, and David were with her when she died, and perhaps now more than ever I understand the importance and, at times, fragility of family. How lucky I am to have this group of rocks around me...I crave being around them now, I find myself needing the memories, shared laughter, and understanding that can only come with family.
I returned to my classroom today, expecting to feel agitated, exhausted, or melancholy, but what happened was actually quite healing. The routine of being at school, the feeling of my clean (too-warm) classroom, and most of all the hugs of my students and their parents were very healing today. There seemed to be this understanding--though it was hard not to be with my students yesterday and I worried a bit even that it would hinder progress in coming back to school--from the families that of course I wouldn't be there. I found great comfort in loving hugs from my students' moms. Not everyone knew, but those who did accepted my choked "gracias" knowingly and with comfort. My students and I had a talk about death and I explained it just how it was--how happy I was I got to spend so much time with my grandma and how it was so wonderful to be with my family during this time. So many of them have lost aunts, uncles, grandmas, grandpas--they knew to an extent, and our conversation made me laugh, nod, and appreciate the humanness of these children--what they are able to understand and empathize is striking.
Christian cried approximately 4 times today (about literally NOTHING--Lili telling me he didn't want to go first in the math game and then he bawled for 3 minutes and was fine immediately after), IB got angry because I came down on him for acting ridiculous, and EC tried to get in everybody's business, as usual. I touched the hair of my students a lot today, enjoyed their BIG wonderful personalities, and felt comforted to be back with them--we'll see how I feel tomorrow.

Amidst all of the "no"s I spew out to my students, the barking that escapes me when a student blurts out, and the emphatic, Mom-like shaking of my head as I stare down a child as they roll across the floor, you would think I hated my job and these kids. In actuality, they are my companions, my advocates, and my greatest supporters. I get so angry when they bicker with one another or taunt each other, but that happens in any family. When I see the way my students stick up for one another or laugh together, it's all I can do to keep myself from getting emotional. Since becoming a teacher, I've turned to mush. I used to go years without crying at times, now I'm lucky if it's days. For the most part, I'm crying because of a touching commercial (that one with the dad e-mailing his beautiful daughter as she grows up gets me EVERY SINGLE TIME) or because one of my students did something incredibly kind or smart. I know teachers are not supposed to consider their students their friends, but we spend so much time together it's hard not to see them as my little, miniature sized friends. These little mini friends, however, make me grateful for the adult friends in my life who I can share a beer with and slip away from the world of tattling, peeing pants, and twhere "choice time" is more valuable than gold.
I will wholeheartedly miss my students this break. I gave them all a hug and an "I love you" before we left today. I hope their breaks are filled with safety and warmth, rather than the violence that has been inundating this neighborhood in the past weeks.
This job is enlightening, rich with love, and filled with joy, but sometimes it is downright heartbreaking. A student at our school's father was stabbed to death on Thanksgiving, some first graders were shot at with their families in the midst of a gang brawl near their apartments, and students have been hiding in hallways at home when armed robberies are occurring below them. Teaching in Oakland in some ways is perhaps not so different from teaching in the suburbs (Bieber fever resides everywhere, I'm convinced), with students donning Disney Channel backpacks, apparel, and quoting iCarly, and in some ways it is NOTHING like where I went to school. 97% of our students qualify for free or reduced lunch, many of their families are newcomers to this country or this state, a grand majority speaking a language other than English at home. There is so much vibrance and culture at this beautiful school and in this beautiful community--I am proud to work with wonderful families and wonderful students. However, this community is poor, and with poverty comes violence. I am somewhere between an outsider and an insider--I come to this place every day, then retreat the 4 exits west to my home where crime is significantly lower and I have a studio apartment for myself probably bigger than what ost of my students are experiencing. While this world is a beautiful place, it is not equitable in the slightest. I am privileged in so many ways, and I am so grateful I get to spend my days here, with these beautiful children and these beautiful families who allow me to teach, even though I am not a native member of their community or their experience. I am overwhelmed with the sense of purpose I have in this work, and while I am still stumbling and, at times, extraodinarily impatient with these mini friends of mine, I am amazed that this dream is what I get to do.

Karaoke, apartments, and engaging students

It's report card time. Which means looking at lots of data, realizing that lots needs to be done to get my students where they need to be...and this feeling that perhaps I'm not doing enough just yet to get my students up to speed. I do feel like giving myself a break, though, and taking the next two weeks to really enjoy being around my students and hearing from them how they think they're doing, what's going well for them in first grade, and what we can do after break to make sure they are learning the important skills they need to read.
Aside from school, this weekend has been quite lovely...filled with tree decorating (first at Mom and Dad's, then here at my place with a miniature tree), hot beverages, karaoke, and apartment hunting. Found two amazing places nearby that are quite affordable, both with lots of applicants though, so we shall see.
I began tutoring this weekend and am excited to get to work with this particular family again (an old student from when I student taught in Orinda). It's interesting coming back and feeling like I know so much more about how to help these girls in their academics in a fun way. A year and a half being thrown into teaching has taught me a lot about engagement and getting kids to enjoy what they're doing (you'd be amazed at what some cutesy clip art can do to a number sentence...), or calling a test a "game." Choices, choices, choices are always great, and computers add excitement to ANYTHING...
I am very much looking forward to seeing my class tomorrow. (Maybe that's because I know there are only 2 short weeks until vacation...)

Future teachers

RD's new favorite choice activity is to use the mini whiteboards to act as the teacher. "Okay, teacher vs. student time. D, go take a break. How many ways can we make 10? Let's see, we can use tally marks...7 + 3 = 10. Ok, now let's try 11. How about this one?" She fills in 10 + 1= 11. Natalia, next to her, writes 5+ 6= 11. Then she looks pointedly at D, signals for him to come back with the group, and he walks carefully back to the table. I laugh into my hands as they bring me a whiteboard to be a student with them.
I should relish in these moments, where students are exhibiting what they've learned even if it makes me cringe a little to hear my own words echoed. "You have a choice...either you stay here and learn or you go to another class." Ouch. So true.