It is a typical Monday. I sip on a cup of French vanilla coffee, inhale the rich soothing aroma, then head off to my first class of the week. Every morning for about two and a half hours, I observe and support young children from three to ten years old. Many people might find this job daunting, but the more I do it, the more I realize I was born to do this. I love solving problems. I love connecting with kids. I guess that’s why I have been able to teach for over forty years without feeling burned out and uninspired. The kids always find a way to kindle my curiosity.
This morning, I settle into the back of a 5th grade math class. The teacher is eliciting ideas from her students about number patterns on a thousands chart. “What do you notice?” she asks, and several hands shoot up. Soon, students are taking turns discussing all kinds of patterns, some easily apparent and some more enigmatic. I am sitting between two students who engage me in conversation. My role has changed since last year when I was the ELA Curriculum Coordinator so the student on my right is surprised to see me in math class and asks ,“Mrs. E, what is your job? I just don’t get it!” I laugh and she apologies, but I reassure her that she doesn’t need to apologize. I tell her that many adults don’t know exactly what I do, and sometimes I myself have a hard time explaining what I do. Simply put, I help students learn.
“If you need help understanding something, I’m here to show you the way,” I say smiling broadly.
Then the student to my left begins to explain an intricate pattern she sees in the thousands chart. I am amazed. I tell the girls that math is not my strong suit, but I am curious about it.
I explain, “Numbers are like cats to me, they want to do their own thing and they are a bit mysterious.”
“Me too!” shouts the girl to my right.
“On the other hand,” I continue, “ Words are like puppies, they are friendly, and you can play with them.”
The girl on my right shouts again, “SAME!”
The math teacher is now looking at me, and I know it’s time to get back to business. I circulate around the room to see how students are tackling fraction problems. I am able to guide some on the right track and that makes me feel proud. I want the girls to see me as an adult who doesn’t always know the answers, but who will keep trying to understand and find the answer.
Later on Monday, a small group of 5th graders join me at recess to craft in the Wonder Studio, which is the lobby outside my office that I converted into a makerspace after the original makerspace (The Wonder Lab), was dismantled to create a new classroom space for computer science and engineering. The space can no longer accommodate a whole class of students, but small groups can participate. This makes for an intimate and cozy makerspace. I let the girls dabble and get acquainted with the available materials. I start crafting too. At the end of our time, Erin tells me to hold out my hands. I obey and a bright litter of pipe cleaner kittens tumble into my hands. I want you to have them,” Erin says cheerily. I thank her and she run back to her classroom. An hour later, I see Erin in the hallway. She tells me to go to her desk in her classroom. She has make more kittens for me. I enter her empty classroom and pick up the kittens. Erin’s teacher greets me as I turn to leave. “Cute, aren’t they?” I say. She smiles weakly, “She make them all through my social studies lesson.” “Oh,” I say suddenly deflated, “ We will need to talk to her about that.” I quickly exit quickly, walking down the hallway softly petting my new kittens cupping them in my hands protectively.
Now it is Tuesday at lunchtime. I am eating in a tight corner in the faculty room. The same teacher finds me to say that one of her students cannot come up with a topic for her writing assignment. The child is stuck, and the teacher is out of ideas. She asks me to work with the student at recess time, which is in five minutes. I agree and start packing up my half-eaten lunch. I walk to Emma’s classroom and find her just about to play a board game with a group of friends. “Emma?” I say sweetly, “ You are going to work with me. Please get your pencil.”
She looks at me. She is a smart cookie. She knows why I have come. Emma is an avid reader and a talented writer, but sometimes she gets stuck initiating ideas for writing and completely shuts down. All the. way to my office, I keep the mood light. I want to set a positive and carefree tone.
When we get to my office, Emma sits in a sunny seat by a window. I tell her that I am here to help her come up with an idea for her writing assignment. Half of her writing paper is folded up like an accordion. I smooth it down and begin to pepper her with ideas that I think she’d be interested in lacrosse, Vermont, and crafting.
She shakes her head and then says, ”Well, I am making a sweatshirt.”
“Yeah, tell me about that,” I say hopefully.
Emma begins to tell me about the sweatshirt she is making, which is dark blue with light blue sleeves. I stand at my whiteboard easel and make a web as she speaks. I write down all that she describes. I ask some questions to guide her. Soon, the web is complete.
I push her paper closer and say, “Okay now write what you just old me.”
Emma does not pick up her pencil. She is biting her bottom lip.
“Shall we come up with a first sentence together?”
She nods in agreement and we do. Then I walk away and tell her that I am going to give her some quiet time to write. When I return a couple of minutes later, Emma is back to folding her paper. Her feet are tapping the rungs of her chair. Her eyes are wide and glossy as she stares at me. I take one look at her and gently take the paper away.
“You are not in trouble, “ I say. “My job is to help kids through problems. Can you tell me what is making you stuck?”
Emma remains silent.
“You are a great writer. We just have to find the right story,” I say, silently praying for a miracle. “What if we pretend it’s after school and we are having milk and cookies.
I continue, “Hey Emma, tell me about something you love. Can you tell be about your dogs?”
Emma’s shoulders relax. Her blue eyes begin to dance as she tells me all about her Maltese and Yorkie.
When she is through, I smile and say, ”Okay do you think you can write about your dogs now.” My heart is beating wildly. I am holding my breath.
“No,” she says quietly.
My heart skips a beat.
“But…” she adds, “I can tell you about my cats.”
I exhale loudly and grin, “Great, tell me about your cats, and I take up my pencil and begin to make a web from the information that Emma shares. We have completed a second web, and now it is time to return to class.
“Do you think you can write a story using this web?” I ask Emma. She nods positively. We walk back to her classroom both satisfied.
On Thursday afternoon, I am walking past the play area to my office. Emma’s teacher points to a patch of grass where her students are busy writing. I spy a small girl hidden in a blanket hunched over her laptop. Emma’s teacher whispers, “She’s in the zone. She has three paragraphs so far.” I am pleased and relieved. The writer has conquered her writer’s block. Curious cats to the rescue!