Tiny Tears

Last year, I had a little one in my Kindergarten class. And when I say little, I mean little. You know, the ones that weigh 30 lbs and wear the princess dresses in the same rotation each week, in tandem with their high tops and pink leggings underneath. Mussy light brown hair, big almond-shaped blue eyes, and a smile that would weaken the knees of any grown-up whose path she crosses. Oh, and she loves me more than the universe. Which is kind of cool now that my own kids are out of the house. I called her Annie Banannie, and she loved it.

Sometimes, it's hard to remember that the Annie's who come in excited and happy to be in school can get overwhelmed by everything expected of them. These are the ones who can slip through the cracks. The ones we don't worry about because they are o.k. Their parents love them; they aren't starving; they are obviously, developmentally, socially, and emotionally exactly where they should be, and they love drawing unicorns, rainbows, flowers and hearts all on the same page, even when it's clean-up time. They are as kind and respectful as the day is long.

Sometimes though, they remind us that we need to plug in. It's easy to get so lost in those obviously needy children, that we forget those silly and happy yet academically needy children like Annie.

The first time I noticed this about Annie Banannie was when we were all on the carpet and as a class, writing a book about apples. She held her paper and fat red pencil in her tiny hands, excited and ready to write anything, exactly like her teacher. Our class came up with the sentence, "Apples grow in trees." As a class, we began to stretch out the words, "A A A,-A p p p-l l l-zzz" ("finger space!"), "g g g- r r r - o o o", "in" ("you should know how to spell this word 'in'") "t-t-t-t-r-r-r-e-e-e-z-z-z-".

When I looked up from my paper to see how everyone was doing. In a voice that didn't sound like hers, I heard Annie say, "Wait. You're going too fast". Her little mouth had turned downward, one hand was holding up her head. She was white-knuckling her fat red pencil as if it was going to run away from her like the gingerbread man.

Then, she looked up at me, and I saw them. Tiny tears of discouragement fell from her little, oval-shaped, blue eyes. There was no sound coming from her, just tiny tears dribbling down her cheeks.

My heart sank, and my throat caved in on me.

Once again, I felt I had failed as a teacher. I had made someone think that they couldn't do hard things. That little one who came in every day full of love and ready to learn was now silently dripping tiny tears on her paper, smudging her attempts to write words. Her fat red pencil lying beside her.

I asked my instructional assistant to take over from there. I took Annie by the hand, Smudgy, wet paper and all, and we walked to the calm corner. As my own tears welled up in my eyes, I wiped hers and said, "I know things can feel really hard, especially writing, but you can do this." I slowed down, walking her step by step through each letter. Through each word and, of course, the finger space.

I just hadn't realized that things were so hard for her. At our nine-week conference, I told her mom she was doing great both academically and socially, because it looked like she was. Thinking back to that conversation, panic and guilt washed over me.

During lunch, I went through her writing, math, and science work that I had collected over the last couple of weeks, and there it was. Right in front of my eyes. Her independent work showed backward and crossed-off letters. Her one-to-one counting was not so one-to-one. The icing on the cake? Most of it was unfinished.

What.The.Actual.Hell.

How had I not seen this? How had I let this get away from me? Grad school? Five others needing so much academic and social/emotional help that my IA had to track them daily with sticker charts? Job overwhelm? Lack of sleep and emotional support? Every day was 24/7 crazy. And because of that, I hadn't noticed Annie holding in her tiny tears of frustration until she couldn't any more. I was too busy accepting her hugs, loving her art, listening to her funny words ,and watching her play so successfully with others, that her academic challenges fell off my radar.

You know how we, as teachers, find a problem and solve it as fast as possible. We know academic problems in kindergarten can haunt a child until they are so far behind they can't catch up.

So I rethought her instruction. I put her in a more appropriate small group; I sat her right in front of me on the carpet, and brought her up to our local screening committee to get her an IEP so she could get the help she needed. That IEP she should have had in October was now being written in January, but it was being done, and that was the most important thing.

As you know, there's nothing worse for a teacher than feeling like they have failed a student, tiny tears or not. Our job is to support and meet all students where they are at, academically, socially, and emotionally. To do the impossible. Twenty-one students from twenty-one different families, 6 different cultures, 3 different languages, and 4 IEPs all thrown together in one classroom, which is a lot like a box of chocolates.

It's too much. The responsibilities. Even with an IA whose instincts are the same as yours.

It's. Too. Much.

I was not a terrible teacher. I was and am a human being. I am caught up in my students' needs. I'm overworked, and I expect too much of myself.

I was caught up in Annie because I loved what she represented and how much she reminded me of myself when I was five. And because of all of that, my happy student fell through the cracks.

That is until I saw her tiny tears. I wish it hadn't taken so long, but sometimes it does. It's just the nature of the beast.

And There They Go.....

All parents want their kids to be ready for the ocean of physical, social/emotional, and academic expectations that are an inevitable part of kindergarten, a 5-year-old's daily grind...

Over the next week I will be writing a series of posts to support your child's experience during this exciting time!

1. Teach your child how to manage frustration.

Mantras can be exceptionally helpful as kids experience many new challenges at once.

• Teach them one that is simple."I think I can" and "I can do hard things" are great to use.

• Model using it when they see you stuck on something hard. Trying to put together an IKEA dresser? Say the mantra you've taught them out loud as you decipher the picture directions that look nothing like what you've bought.

• Encourage them to use it when they are challenged. Remind them of it, get them started saying it with you, then let them continue on your own.

• Cheer them on when you see them using it on their own.

Let me show you what that looks like in action...

In my classroom, the kids LOVE to yell "WE CAN DO HARD THINGS!", our cheer after morning meeting. Eventually, they learn that this means something important and begin to say it on their own, or even to me when they see me struggle. For example, Alphie explains when he used it.

Me: So, in our book, we learned that it can take a LONG time to learn how to do something tricky. You have to keep trying though! Don't give up! You can say something to yourself to help, like, "I can do hard things!" Just say it over and over again until you figure out your problem.

This weekend I was trying to get my TV to work, and I couldn't figure out what chords went where, so I just focused and reminded myself over and over that I could do hard things. Eventually, I DID it, and those words really helped. (There is enthusiastic applause from my amazed students. Even teachers have hard things...

I want you to think for a minute about a time when you did something hard. Did you say, "I can do hard things" until you did it?

A dozen little hands popped up. They waved and waved and the kids said "me!me!me!"

I chose Alphie, who was a quiet listener who FINALLY had something to share. I was ELATED!

Me: Morning Alphie, can you share your hard thing with us?"

Alphie hesitated. The children waited with bated breath... what did he do? Ride a two-wheeler??? Lose a tooth? Eat broccoli????

Alphie: I took a poop.

Jaws dropped, giggles emerged, and a chorus of "ewwwww pooop", erupted.

Me: That's enough from the peanut gallery. Everybody poops. Can we listen kindly while Alphie tells us how he did this hard thing?

The kids got quiet and put their listening ears back on.

Alphie: I did, Ms. Devine! I had to go, real bad! Then when I tried, nothing came out!!!!

A few children looked astonished and said in agreement,"Hey, that happened to me too!"

Me: Let's let him finish, friends.

Alphie: I started to get frustrated, a-cause nothing was working! I tried the "push it, push it real good!", song, the "potty squirm" wiggle, and the "Hulk grunt," and nothing helped! I started to cry and remembered that I could do hard things! So I just went as hard as I could and said, "I can do hard things, I can do hard things!" and I did it!

The children begin to applaud Alfie's efforts. We were glad he didn't have to Hulk it to get the job done.

A mantra:

1. Teach it

2. Model using it

3. Encourage them to try

4. When you hear them, applaud their efforts.

,

You Tell Me

I've never been real good at answering questions about what I want. "Where do you want to go to dinner?", "What do you want to do today?", "Which movie do you want to see?", "You want to mow the lawn or clean up the garage?" I could most comfortably answer those questions with "I don't care ",😁 "Whatever works best for you :-)",😁 "Whichever :-)" 😎

I'm like this because it's EASY, because it makes it easier to LIKE me. "She's flexible and easy to be around."

I like knowing that's how people think of me. I've learned from the time I was little, by the world around me, that if I'm easy and flexible - if I have no opinion either way, people will like me. They will not abandon me. They will be happy because I am not disagreeable or too much. I will not be a bitch or a pain in the ass. I will just be what they want me to be and I am ok with that. This is not their fault. I have taught them that THIS is who I am.

I do NOT want my students to EVER feel this way. I want them to feel seen and heard. I want them to feel welcome to share their opinions and thoughts, even if they aren't the most popular ideas in the kindergarten crowd. I want them to be brave enough to say "no" or "yes" by listening to their own selves.

I've been using Responsive Classroom since I first heard of it. It allows kids to answer their own questions through self -awareness and guidance from an adult and peers if needed. It helps create a kind and safe classroom community. It can help create the kind of independence that you want them to have before they leave your classroom to go on to the next phase of their life. It is a tool to put in their toolbelt of self-assurance.

RC can be as simple as:

St: Where's a chair?

Me: Look around. Do you see one?

St: No.

Me: Look harder. Where do we usually keep the chairs?

St: Oooohhhh yeaaaahhhh I remember where we decided to put them....

Yes - it took more time then getting that child a chair but it put the bulk of reponsibility on the child to look and think.

Of course, there are always bigger issues:

St: Allison won't play with me!!! (big, wet tears)

Me: Hmmmmmm. I wonder why? Do you know why?

St: I don't know. (shoulder shrug, tear wipe)

Me: Well, why don't you go ask her?

St: Okay.

Me: You can bring her over if you need some help and we can talk about it .

St: Okay

Both kiddos come running back - tears in their eyes.

Me: Go ahead. Ask her your question.

St: Why won't you play with me?

St2: Because we always have to play what you want!

Me: So how can you two fix this? Any ideas? ( a few silent moments go by and I'm just ready to tell them to get over it and go play with someone else...but I finally get a quiet answer)

St2: We could take turns figuring out what to play?

Me: (turning to student) Would that be ok with you?

St: No!

Me: Well then we need another idea.

St: We could decide what to play together?(Of course figuring out how to decide "together" can be a whole other conversation in and of itself that could be decided and modeled in a class meeting with teacher support.)

Me: Are you both ok with that?

St2: I suppose. (both heads nod)

Me: Give it a try. I'll check in in a few minutes.I can't wait to see what you decide to do!

I know what YOU are doing. You are shaking your head at your computer or phone and saying "it's not that easy.", "It doesn't always go that way.", When was the last time SHE was on the playground with kids? "," I don't have time to do this with 22 other kids to watch at recess." No, it doesn't always go that way. And to a certain extent, you are ABSOLUTELY Yes, it's really hard when you are trying to make sure the pretend ninjas in the corner of the playground don't give each other black eyes. And yes - still teaching in the classroom - still trying to muddle my way through the day.

But I will tell you - after working and working with my kiddos using Responsive Classroom and carefully modeling the language and situations for them and with them - it does come more easily. Honestly - there are days I don't have the patience or the time for this, so I don't have those conversations with kids, but anytime I can, I absolutely do. Is it perfect? No. Does it always work? No. But with some thought it's not hard to put into practice. It doesn't add stuff to do into the day, but I believe it puts more depth into your students understanding of themselves as a member of a classroom community, and as their own confident decision makers.

That way, when they are adults and someone asks them if they want to drink out of a VAT of grain alcohol they can say "No" with confidence and self-assurance. Or if someone asks them "What do you want to do today?" they can say, "I want to lay in front of the tv and eat ice cream" and then have one hell of a day without being worried whether or not they will be abandoned. But most of all, they will trust themselves enough to know that they can be their authentic selves every time they come to the table.

So next time you find yourself standing at the door with a group of teachers (on a teacher work day, cause we all know we don't have time for lunch on a normal school day) and you guys are trying to figure out where to go for lunch, just be the person who makes the decison before you stand at the door for your entire lunch break, trying to be polite and not be the one responsible if something goes wrong... You won't be abandoned, you will still be liked and if anyone complain's you can just ask them..."So how can you fix this for yourself?!"