Fear

This summer, I am working with the Central Texas Writing Project, a program at Texas State University that is focused on the premise that teachers are better teachers of writing when they are writers themselves.

We focus on strategies and reflection, on pedagogy and educational theory. We work with teachers to strengthen their craft by connecting them with research, writing, and a network of other teacher writers. We work with teachers that are working desperately to reconcile what they know is true about children with what is true about teaching public school. How writing with passion can coexist with writing to a prompt. How informed writing for authentic audiences can accompany writing for a state accountability system.

Something I find over and over as I work with teachers is the unspoken, ever-present idea of FEAR. The fear of not doing enough for our students. The fear of doing so much for our students that we neglect our own families. The fear that high-stakes testing beats the joy out of school, for us and for the students we love. We fear litigation and not being able to provide for our families. We fear what happens to our students when they are not in our care. We fear what might happen to our jobs if we speak up for our kids, for our profession, for each other. We are scared. 

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Well said, Lee S. Shulman. Teaching is so technical that it is way more than a profession. It is as much art as it is dance as it is theory and surely adding countless young humans (and their parents) into that equation is terrifying. But, dear friends, identifying the fear is not enough. We are frightened, but as every brilliant teacher knows, it is not enough to sit paralyzed by that monster under the bed. We have to be BRAVE.

B: Be informed. Brave teachers are learners. They know what the issues are, and they know where to find answers. They have studies and articles and professors and other teachers to pull from, count on, and lean-in to. This community is in person and online, it is found in PLNs and podcasts, in classrooms and Voxer groups. This community gives teachers a collective voice to call upon when they need back-up from an educational posse of committed professionals who all want what is best for kids.

R: Reflect: Brave teachers are highly reflective. They are constantly asking themselves what could be improved. They are quick to identify when something does not work and they are committed to finding a better way. They know when a lesson goes haywire. They do not continually search out people to blame: kids, parents, administrators, a flawed system, but instead think about causes and practical solutions. Brave teachers open themselves up for reflection by talking to others: colleagues, coaches, and administrators. They are humbled by the enormity of their power as a teacher, and are continually looking for ways to empower others.

A: Accept reality: Brave teachers understand that there are certain things that cannot be changed. Initiatives, mandates, state curriculum guidelines, your class list- lots of things are just reality and time is wasted when we fret over them. Jim Knight, a research associate in the University of Kansas Center for Research on Learning and director of the Kansas Coaching Project, talks about the, "current classroom reality." When teachers are open and honest about what the realities are, they are better equipped to take targeted action towards strengthening instructional practices and ultimately, improving learning environments for our students.

V: Voraciously read: Brave teachers are readers. They read blog posts, journals, and Twitter feeds. They read e-mails from parents, administrators, and colleagues. They read children's books and YA books and Bluebonnet books and graphic novels to share with reluctant readers. They continually sift through a never-ending feed of words and phrases and information and research and opinions and must be cognizant of what is worth paying attention to, and what needs to be dismissed. Education is a rollercoaster of a profession, with jargon, acronyms, and buzzwords that are gone as quickly as a teacher's lunch break. Brave teachers consider this reading work necessary to their effectiveness as educators, and it has always been one of my favorite parts of the job!

E: Engage: Brave teachers are engaged. They engage with their students, their colleagues, and the families they affect. They are engaged in the process of teaching and learning. They are engaged in local policy, in weekend soccer games, and in the communities where they teach. They do not get to disengage at the grocery store on the weekend. They do not get to disengage when they do not feel well. They engage in relationships and hard work, in problem solving and celebrations. They stay engaged because they love what they do.

I'm so humbled to work alongside such brave teachers each day. Teachers who believe Haim Ginott's quote and live out the implications of such beautiful and powerful words:

“I’ve come to a frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element in the classroom. It’s my personal approach that creates the climate. It’s my daily mood that makes the weather. As a teacher, I possess a tremendous power to make a child’s life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration. I can humiliate or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis will be escalated or de-escalated and a child humanized or dehumanized.” 

― Haim G. Ginott

Be brave, teacher friends. We are all standing behind you.

Brave teacher books...

                        

Beginning of the Year Read-Alouds

Like most educators, I am slightly obsessed with bookstores. I love the way they smell, I enjoy watching people browse for just the right book, I love hearing the conversations between parents and their young children as they discuss authors and characters, and I get excited every time I find perfect books for lessons I want to teach or share with the teachers with whom I work.

The other day, I was in Half Price Books and found two gems that I am excited to take with me to school this year! Elementary teachers spend considerable time at the beginning of the year building community with their classes and setting the stage for future reading success. It is important to share special books together so that students can anchor their learning to mentor texts, establish norms and procedures for working closely in a shared space, and simply adjust to their new learning environment with the presence of quality children's literature. 

Wise teachers are very intentional about the books they choose at the beginning of the school year. They read books that are funny, books with characters that help children make connections, and books that model expectations in easy, relatable ways. Teachers understand what feelings and anxieties students may bring into their new classroom and can leverage read-alouds for a positive start to the year.

There are classic read-alouds that I have always read to my kids at the beginning of the year, but I get giddy when I find new titles that I can add to my coaching room for teachers to share with their new groups of kiddos. Here are two finds that I highly encourage you to check-out!

The Book That I Love to Read by Joe Fitzpatrick. This is the cutest read-aloud ever! The main character is a boy who has found the PERFECT book. It kind of reminds me of The Monster at the End of This Book because each new page has fun surprises that primary kids will LOVE. Selfishly, I want to keep this book for myself when I do read-alouds in classrooms the first few weeks of school year to introduce myself to the kids. But, if a teacher REALLY wants it, then (of course) I will concede!

How to Read a Story by Kate Messner. This is quite possibly the most perfect book to read to kids before a lesson on choosing a Just-Right book. It is versatile enough to read at home with your own kids or to your class as you establish norms for independent and partner reading.  It is kind of a clearinghouse of all beginning of the year reading mini-lessons, as it addresses everything from choosing a place to read, to changing your voice to match the characters, to boldly exclaiming, "The End." Just precious. Amazon recommends this book for K-2nd grade, but I would read it to third graders in a heartbeat. If I had to choose a similar book, it kind of reminds me of Wolf! by Becky Bloom.

As the new school year quickly approaches, I will continue to find books to support the teachers and students I get to work alongside all year. What are your favorite back-to-school read-alouds?

Growth Mindset Monday

This year, our campus is focusing on Growth Mindset, an idea proposed by Carol Dweck, Stanford professor. In her book Mindsets, she puts forth the idea that the way we approach life can be based on how we view intelligence and learning. People with a fixed mindset generally believe that intelligence and ability are inherent and can't really be developed. Those with a growth mindset believe that hard work, determination, and repeated attempts at learning actually contribute to one's success. This brief video sums it up...

At our school, we have started Growth Mindset Mondays. We show a quick video clip in each classroom, the teachers pose a few discussion questions, and everyone reflects on how our mindsets affect our work. This Monday focus sets the tone for the week, and teachers can refer back to ideas, videos, and discussions as they work with students each day.

Our campus is working on a book study of Mindsets in the Classroom by Mary Cay Ricci. This book explores the idea of mindsets specifically in the education setting. We hope that continuing to explore these ideas will cultivate a culture of endurance and perseverance that we want for our students and ourselves.

 

As we continue to work toward guiding children to have a growth mindset, we hope to have more discussions in various arenas: in classrooms, with families, and with teachers. The goal is not to just simply talk about a growth mindset, but to collectively embrace the ideas of persistence, problem solving, and resolution, and to model those ideas in our own behaviors.

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The Space Between: Dave Matthews and Public Education

I am a word girl. I appreciate stories and poems and lyrics and speeches. I love reading clever books, I enjoy snarky stand-up, and I love having fast-paced conversations with people who are smart and sharp and funny. I treasure the familiar refrains of stories I have read to children for years and years; the two that I have raised, and the countless others that I have loved, fought for, even grieved over, one academic year at a time. I even asked a new teacher this week if I could share a Valentine read-aloud with her class because the thought of not reading Roses are Pink, Your Feet Really Stink by Diane deGroat to a class for the first time in 18 years almost made me weepy.

Every once in awhile, however, familiar pedagogy collides with satellite radio, and a song I have heard over and over finds me in a new way. Perhaps a result of nostalgia or frustration or grief, maybe a byproduct of love or hopefulness or joy, a song will sometimes reach out and pull at the parts of me that I often hide- from my acquaintances, my friends, and maybe even myself. Not to sound dramatic (ha), but songs get to me. I will laugh out loud at a lyric and I will silently sob to a song that hits me in a weird way, whether it be from my past, my present, or what I think may be my future.

Today, I heard, "The Space Between," by Dave Matthews. A song originally released just two years into my teaching career hit me in a new way as it played in my car leaving the school parking lot. As an instructional coach, I have so many opportunities to experience the things that are hard about education. Too many expectations, too little time, too many meetings, not enough funding for resources or training or support. Teachers are often exhausted and struggle with EVER PRESENT guilt: they feel guilty that they are not doing more for their students, or they feel guilty that doing it means they are not devoting fair amounts of time to their own lives: their own families and friends and interests.

Teachers have to battle with the expectations of a Pinterest world: perfect lessons and papers with darling fonts, activities that are inquiry-based and hands-on and differentiated and scaffolded. Classrooms must be stocked with materials that are pleasing to the eye and functional, but not cluttered. Oh, and buy all the materials yourself, because the bookshelf that comes with the classroom is nice, but the alphabet that hangs on the wall must be purchased by the teacher. The school day must include enough movement opportunities to meet the needs of your kinesthetic learners, but three others prefer calm, quiet environments, so kindly do your part to meet the needs of each child's unique learning style. Please also make kids care about non-renewable resources, dividing decimals, and that M really does come before N in the alphabet. And do it with a smile, with an even, composed spirit, and answer all of the e-mails you get about transportation changes and reading level changes and home-life changes in a timely manner. And do not mix anything up.

What does this have to do with Dave Matthews? Nothing really, except that the teachers I know keep showing up for more. Some move locations and some move on, but very few of the people I do education with can stay away from school. WHY? Why do so many teachers stay, when it's such an overwhelming career?

"The Space Between."

It really makes such good, good sense. 

"You cannot quit me so quickly...The space between the tears we cry, is the laughter that keeps us coming back for more."

I love school. I love talking to kids and the adults that care for them each day. Today I got to hear about stock shows and fractions and how to find the main idea and what sound the sh-digraph makes. I got to give no less than 76 hugs to kids that think I am a custodian because I help with lunch duty. I got to help a gravel-dusted boy get an ice pack, hold a baby brother, and calm a mom who was having a hard time with her kindergartner having a hard time.

And I laughed. I laughed with teachers and parents and to myself as I overheard kid conversations at lunch and while fifth graders filmed a PSA about renewable energy sources. I was photobombed by a former student. A first grader snuck up behind me to scare me. Awhile back, I wrote a post that explored the identity crisis I was facing as I prepared to leave the classroom. It has been hard and weird. It has also been rewarding and exciting and so fascinating. I have learned SO STINKING MUCH. What has surprised me the most is that there is a much broader picture now that my world is over 600 children instead of just 22. I have learned that it takes parents and teachers and administrators and support staff to provide an environment that is good for kids. I was recently reminded by an education mentor that, "You're not a fixer. You're a leader. Lead people to love this profession again."

Beautiful, right? It's the space between. 

"The space between the bullets in our firefight is where I'll be hiding, waiting for you." 

I have chosen to believe that means that with all that is wrong in education, there is so very much that is right. The right people. The right passion. Finding the joy in a job that matters. Because our kids matter. They deserve grown-ups that will fight. Maybe not with fire, but with a burning desire to try. To the teachers and the others that I serve in this position that I am still struggling to figure out, what I can promise is the last line of the first stanza of a song that hit me today...

"But I got all the time for you, Love,"

All I Really Need to Know, I Learned from Kindergarten Lunch Duty

The first week of school for an Instructional Coach is a bit different. Teachers are working to establish routines and procedures and so I did what most ICs do...plan, attend meetings, help with bus signs, console sad students, console sad mommies, and assist in the cafeteria. 

During lunch time. 
During KINDERGARTEN lunch time. 

I have been an elementary teacher for seventeen years. I have birthed babies and parented school-age children. I have worked in daycares, camps, and every other conceivable childcare field since I was 16 years old. I like kids. I am pretty good with kids. Yet, there is something scary special about kindergartners in the cafeteria during the first week of school. So naturally, I had to reflect on what I learned and find a parallel to my actual life. 

All I really need to know, I learned from Kindergarten Lunch Duty:

1. Assume NOTHING.
I have taught first grade for twelve years. There are things that first graders know how to do that I guess I assumed all children just come to school knowing. Wait your turn. Don't put orange chicken in his ear. Don't stomp on the unopened Cool Ranch Doritos bag. This is a lie. First graders know how to do things because kindergarten teachers are angels sent by God to earth to teach children how to function in a school setting. They also teach letters, sounds, math skills that used to be second grade, how to segment phonemes, how to listen to stories, how to share, how to read, and don't get me started on only getting twenty minutes of recess. They also teach the new kindergarten mommies and daddies how to hold it together while their babies are transitioning into big kids.

2.Don't take things that don't belong to you.
What do you mean, she ate your Oreos? You ate her Oreos? You may never eat someone else's Oreos. You may only eat the food that your family sent for you to eat, or that you bought for your lunch. I'm so sorry she ate your Oreos. I would be crying too if someone ate the Oreos that I was looking forward to eating in my lunch. Also, now I really want to eat Oreos.

3. Just because it's easy for adults, doesn't mean it's easy for kids.
I have school-aged kids, so I get the appeal of prepackaged lunch items. They make it way easier to pack the lunches in the morning. For the ADULT. The average kindergarten lunchbox contains approximately seven prepackaged foods. The average kindergarten child can open zero things independently. Whether it is because of emerging fine motor skills, not-yet-developed muscle tone, unwillingness, the splat factor (what I now call what happens when a five year-old attempts to open the little fruit cup thingys: applesauce, mandarin oranges, pineapple tidbits, fruit cocktail, etc.), it's just not going to happen. Other things I didn't realize needed tutorials: yogurt tubes, applesauce squeezers, milk cartons (someone hold me), any bagged item (chips, Pirate's Booty- hahahahaMrs.Taylorhesaidbootyhahahaha, Ziplock baggies, raisins, and I seem to have lost the will to remind myself of all the things so I'm stopping here). For about twelve minutes, I tried to be all Maria Montessori and teach the kids how to open the things. Yep. I know, I know...I see you laughing.

4.Clean up your own mess.
You would think this would be common knowledge. It is not. Probably because their little arms and hands and fingers are just so tired and sore from trying to open all the food. 

5. Lunchboxes are not weapons, hats, forts, or guns.
Oh, but they are. Sometimes it's on purpose. Sweetheart, put that down. She doesn't seem to like it when you put your lunchbox on her head. Mrs. Taylor, it's OK. I said she could put it on my head. Actually, it's not. Sometimes it's not on purpose. Ouch! When you swing your lunchbox around your head like that and it hits me in the shoulder, I don't like it. Will you hold it the right way so I don't get bumped, please? 

6. Kids are funny.
So funny. So, so, so funny. The kindergartners think I am the PE coach. Not in one hundred million years. They asked if I was the principal. Um, no. They asked my friend (our school counselor) if she was the camp counselor. Yes, kind of. They asked if she was the, "feelings lady." Pretty close. One asked me where I get all my nice forks from. Mrs. Taylor, I'm being so good today. Can I go home?

All I Really Need to Know, I Learned in Kindergarten was originally written by Robert Fulghum over 25 years ago. The main points ring just as true for me now as I begin a new professional journey. The transition from the classroom to the PLC room to the lunchroom will continue to challenge me in unique ways, but as Fulghum stated, "And it is still true, no matter how old you are - when you go out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together." 

I am so thankful that the brave teachers I work with and those that are teaching in schools all across this country are holding hands and sticking together. And I am so glad they are with me on this messy, exciting adventure.

The Bend or Snap Method...

If successful elementary teachers had to be summed up in one word, it would probably be, "flexible." Any given day, there are one billion things that have to be monitored, adjusted, planned for, adapted, modified, and differentiated. There are unexpected meetings, a kid may puke on your carpet, a mom drops off lunch and wants to visit during your math lesson, and the list goes on and on. There are over 50 adults and hundreds of children in one building and do not get me started on the copiers...and so the odds are, something will not go as planned. You can blame it on miscommunication, multiple personalities, or just plain life, but the most important thing is not that you sometimes get derailed, but how you react respond to it.

I was up at school working the other day and got derailed. The reason I jumped the tracks this given time is irrelevant, but suffice it to say I lost my ever-loving mind. I closed my door, broke down into tears, and stood frozen in the middle of my room not knowing what to do next. I am prone to strong feelings, so this is kind of normal operating procedure for me, but it can make those around me uncomfortable...

So, what did I do?

I put on my sunglasses, walked straight out the front of the building, and went to get a pedicure. 

I'm sure I looked like a trainwreck sitting in that chair with the swollen eyes and red nose as the lady tried to convince me that I SURELY needed my eyebrows taken care of also, but when I left, I was calmer, had delightful coral-hued toes, and was ready to face my children. Later, I was texting a friend and I replayed the scene. When I told her I just left and went to a nail salon, she replied, "Well, that certainly is the Legally Blonde way of handling problems."

I suppose it was. I love that movie. I love how Elle Woods does not apologize for who she is, but uses her unique talents (and a little bit of flair) to help people around her. She remains positive, upbeat, and roots for the underdog. She is self-deprecating and kind, and strives to bring out the best in other people. She befriends Paulette, works to cheer her up, and teaches her the Bend and Snap.

Allow me to borrow that for the point of this entire ridiculous blog post. 

To be a successful teacher human, one must remain flexible. If you do not allow yourself to bend, you will surely snap. Not everything will go your way. Not every decision that is made is the one YOU would have made. Not every lesson will go how you planned it, not every anchor chart will look like Cara Carroll's, and not every day will be Instagrammable. You must bend. You must sway. You must roll with it, go with the flow, maybe even shimmy a little. The alternative is you snap. You break. You give up, you throw a fit, or you doubt why you do it at all. And trust me sweet friends, you must never doubt why you do it, because those babies will be in your rooms in two weeks and you will be reminded. 

Take the time to take care of yourself. Fix your hair a different way, add a little pink to your wardrobe, surround yourself with friends that get you and allow you to be yourself, and enjoy your family. Listen to good music, drink good coffee and good wine (ask if you need recommendations). 

"Oh, and whoever said that orange is the new pink is seriously disturbed."

Who am I, if not a Teacher?

This is first day fake. My desk only looked like that for 13 minutes.

I am a teacher. It is not just what I do, it is who I am. I gather books and resources all summer long, I write student names on desk tags and bulletin boards and folders and notebooks. I read reports, I input grades, I make phone calls, I pour my heart and soul into twenty two lives a year. I carefully watch for what students will not show, I listen closely to what students will not say, and I love. I love on those kids so hard that when our time together is finished, I am emotionally depleted, mentally exhausted, but wholly satisfied that the way I have chosen to spend my days, my months, my years...has mattered.

“You’re such a natural teacher,” people say.

No. It’s not natural. Intentional, maybe. Pre-ordained, possibly. But, in no way is this career choice, “natural.” To choose minds over money. Fulfillment over power. Disrespect over accolades. It is not easy to neglect your own children for those belonging to other people. It is not normal to go to work sick because there are not enough substitutes. It is not natural to spend your own money to buy books or use your vacation money to go to professional training because you know it will benefit your students, but the system does not have the money to send you.

Dave Burgess, author of, “Teach Like a Pirate,” says,

“I’ve worked my butt off to build a class that is outrageously engaging, fun, educationally sound, and dearly loved by students. It wasn’t easy when I started, it wasn’t easy last week, and it won’t be easy next week either. It’s not supposed to be easy–it’s supposed to be worth it. You can build something incredible if you put the effort in on the front end, and then keep putting the effort in until you turn the lights off and close your door for the last time. But it won’t be, “easy.”

So then, what if I have turned the lights off and closed the door for the last time? I have accepted a new position as an instructional coach, which means I will work with teachers, but I will not have my own classroom of kids. I will still have lights. I think I will still have a door. But who am I if I no longer have a class of twenty two babies wearing my name on the back of their class T-shirts? What is my purpose if I am not at my classroom door each morning, welcoming children, asking about baseball games and dance recitals, calming worried parents or consoling kids who had a rough morning? Will my work still matter if I cannot easily point to a moment when I was there the first time a child found a book they loved or used manners when they asked for something, or found a calm way to disagree with a peer? What about on field day during tug-of-war? Somebody hold me.

I mean, seriously.

As I transition into a new position, a new career, a new role, I find myself with more questions than answers. I am more nervous than self-assured. Let’s just be real- I am actually scared to death. Even though teaching has never been, “easy,” it has provided me with things I have come to value: structure, routine, predictability, a reason to buy school supplies…

For now, I am enjoying working with the Central Texas Writing Project at Texas State University, where my summer days are spent in professional development sessions, journal writing, participating in demonstration lessons presented by committed, brave teachers who are putting the needs of themselves and their students at the forefront. I am presenting, reading books, having collegial conversations, eating all kinds of naughty foods, and laughing about this ridiculous job that I love.

Mayson and I (One of my former third graders)

But when August comes, and you see me wandering around in the school supply aisle at Target, or through the halls at Back-to-School night, please avoid direct eye contact. You can smile and shoulder-pat, even ask how my summer went or where the 4th grade hall is located. But, please do not let your gaze linger...because if you really look closely, you will see a teacher without a class who will be desperately searching for her place in this world.

Teaching is a Top 40 Song

I am quite certain Ryan Seacrest has the second coolest job there is. He interviews musicians, produces television shows, and talks for a living. And someone fixes his hair. If I didn’t already have the coolest job there is, I may try and give him a run for his money, but since I was born to be a teacher, he’s safe. For now.

I love music. I love teaching. I love metaphors. So naturally, as I’m listening to Spotify during this freakishly hectic time of the year, I landed on the idea that teaching at the end of the school year is a Top 40 song. Please allow me to demonstrate:

Blank Space by Taylor Swift

SO.MANY.BLANK.SPACES. Fill out this paperwork. Fill out this Google form. Fill out this survey. Fill out these profile cards. Fill in how you have differentiated for your dyslexia kids. Your GT kids. Your kids that have behavior issues. Fill out this 504 paperwork. Fill out this referral. Fill in what you will send in for the luncheon. For the dinner. For the breakfast. For your own child’s party. For the fieldtrip. Fill in the DRA scores. The STAAR scores. Your individualized professional development plan. Your summer address. Fill in an award that uniquely sums up each student in your class with a matching clever candy description. Fill in the report cards. The attendance awards. I’m not sure why this particular picture of Taylor was chosen for Blank Space, but maybe she’s pretending she’s an elementary teacher with four days of school left. “I’ve got a blank space baby, and I’ll write your grades.”

Sugar by Maroon 5

Friends, we’re in full-on panic mode. Break out the sugar. Call your friends chocolate, Jolly Ranchers, Sour Patch kids, sourdough bread, Dr. Pepper, 765 calorie lattes, hamburgers, pizza, and that bouquet of Kit Kats your awesome homeroom mom made you for teacher appreciation week. I would put a picture of it here, but I ate it. Whatever. Desperate times call for desperate measures and you don’t even need to comment about how eating healthy and exercising is the ultimate stress reliever. I know the facts. I wholeheartedly agree with you and the science of physiology. It still won’t make me not text my husband a picture of my crying face with swollen eyes and say, “Bring home Popeyes Chicken and a bottle of moscato if you love me and your children. All of our lives are possibly in danger. It’s hard being a teacher.” Teacher friends, you get this week off. You’re welcome.

Shut Up and Dance by Walk the Moon

PLEASE stop talking. Yes, it’s for a grade. No, you may not have your Doritos for snack at 8:14am. Yes, you still need to read. No, I’m not sending homework. Yes, you may go to the library. Yes, you may hug your teacher from last year. Yes, you may go the office to call your mom to ask if she brought your lunch. No, I’m not sure why it’s easier for her to bring it to the school every day after she’s already dropped you off. Yes, we are still working. No, we’re not doing anything, “important.” Yes, you may go to the bathroom. No, the test will not be done in partners. Yes, I still want you to turn in your work to the basket labeled, “FINISHED WORK.” I don’t even care if you dance. Just please stop talking.

Lay Me Down by Sam Smith

I need to sleep for two weeks. I can’t because I need to fill in lots of blank spaces. My 38 year old body is still sore from third grade field day and I watched TV with some friends until 10:45 last night and I can barely recover. I’m old and tired. I’m not sure if I’m even forming coherent sentences anymore because I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen asleep at the keyboard. I have a couch in my classroom, but I never sit on it for fear I’ll accidentally fall asleep during specials and I will not be on time to pick up my class. Sam Smith has a beautiful lullaby voice, but I’m pretty sure I could fall asleep to ACDC at this point. Momma tired.

Time of Our Lives by Pitbull, Ne-Yo

My husband has finally figured out the rhythm of my melt-downs. It took years, but when you live with a teacher, you can eventually read the signs and know when to bring home fried chicken and white wine. He understands that even though I may cry on the weekly, I am COMPLETELY in love with this job. There are days that it’s hard, there are times when it’s overwhelming, but as the school year draws to a close and I see the faces of the babies I’ve worked with all year long smiling back at me from the end-of-year slideshow that will make them laugh and their mommas cry, I can honestly say that we have had the time of our lives. We have read books, solved problems, played games, and run races. We have learned kindness, acceptance, the power of hard work, and how twenty one bodies can become a family after spending seven hours a day together in a tiny, little classroom. We know each other’s gifts and struggles, we’ve learned about special talents and insecurities, and I pray each kiddo in my care has had as much fun as I have.

The number one song this week is Earned It, by the Weeknd. (That’s not a typo; I suppose it’s just a hipster, cool way to be awesome. I’m not sure; I’m tired.) I think that’s a fitting way to end the End of Year Teacher Top 40…

Happy summer, teacher friends! You’ve earned it.