Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Oh, Norah!

I asked Norah what she did to her grandmother's couch today that earned herself a timeout. Her response: "I eat a bite." (Sources confirmed this.)

After bed tonight, Norah was fussing that her pillow was too wet (she'd drooled) and she needed to sleep in the white bed with Mama and Papa. I flipped her pillow over and showed her that the pillow was now dry, at which point she promptly spit on it and asked again to be moved to the white bed.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Patient Puppy

As you can see, a professional fixed Atticus's hair bright and early Sunday morning. Our days as novice barbers are done and we'll never try to cut it at home again.

All of these pictures were taken this evening. We'd just gotten home from the optometrist' office. Norah had eaten the nosepiece of her glasses, so they replaced that and then the doctor gave her a quick check-up. As soon as we got home, the kids invented a new game to play with Stella. As near I could tell, the object was to see who could get closest to Stella without getting kissed.
It was highly entertaining.
Then someone took it just a little too far and I had to put an end to it:
Within 42 minutes of our appointment time, Norah had dropped her glasses on the floor while running and Atticus had stepped upon them and broken the earpiece. It's a good thing that the glasses aren't essential to her well-being (the doctor actually said we could wait until she started school to get them, but we have good vision insurance), because she does not get to wear them very often!

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Haircut Fail





Tonight after baths we gave Atticus a haircut. Not to be overly dramatic, but the experience ranks among one of the worst parenting experiences we've had. He screamed and thrashed his head around for all forty minutes and the end result was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad haircut that is nearly bald. We're going to have have to take him to a barber shop tomorrow to get it evened out and I am not looking forward to explaining ourselves to the barber.
Within five minutes of finishing, of course, Atticus was talking about how brave he'd been and asking to have his hair cut again. This makes me hold out hope that tomorrow's trim might not be quite so bad. Seriously though, the idea of trimming his hair seemed so simple and it now looks so awful. It makes me want to cry.
P.S. The pictures above are from earlier today (pre-cut) and have nothing to do with the text. We took naps, went on a walk, visited a park, and saw a bulldozer. It was pretty lovely.

Friday, March 19, 2010

If You're Not Outraged, You're Not Paying Attention

I assumed the emergency crisis meeting that was abruptly scheduled for the end of the school day was intended as a time when the higher-ups would finally hand out our supplies of Xanax and vodka. Heaven knows the entire staff could use them after the week we've had. Alas, that was not to be.

The high school where I work has been declared a failing school and is on the precipice of being taken over by the state. Our principal has been asked to resign and teachers have been told that none of us have any guarantee of having our jobs back in the fall. If the school fails to bring up test scores next year, it may be required to "release" 50 percent of us. To say that morale was low today would be a slight understatement.

The government's plan, of course, is to refresh our school with only the best and brightest young teachers who are to be lured from top colleges and universities. As someone who fit that bill when I started my own career seven years ago, I'd sincerely like to wish the government luck with that. Having prestigious academic credentials is an asset, but it certainly doesn't guarantee success in the classroom. Teaching well is hard work and a constantly evolving skill.

Additionally, you would have to be insane (or have a wealthy family member to fall back on) to sign on to teach at an underperforming school right now. I actively chose to work at an urban school whose students come from backgrounds that often result in them lagging far behind their suburban peers. I enjoy working with my students and I strive to serve them well in the classroom. Here I am, however, being punished for making the decision to teach at a struggling school. If I'd chosen to pursue job opportunities in suburban classrooms, my work might be easier and my head wouldn't be on the chopping block. I wouldn't be worried that I committed career hara-kiri by opting to take a position where I felt there was a real need I could fulfill.

In my 19 months at this school, two students or former students have committed suicide, four have been murdered, twelve of my students have had ankle monitors and parole officers, and a handful of my freshmen girls have had babies. I've seen two teachers and a security guard injured breaking up altercations, there have been weekly physical fights in the halls, and I had a student bring a knife to class with the intention of stabbing me. Many of my students' lives are like the epilogues of sad newspaper articles - Do you wonder what happens to the children of murder victims or adults who are sent to prison? Lie awake pondering where the toddler found wandering the street by himself will be in twelve years? I could tell you.

I don't mean to make excuses or come off as a pessimist. Some of my students have wonderfully supportive parents. There are kids who work tirelessly to succeed. I have many, many delightful pupils who make coming to work a pleasure. The fact is though, that students' home lives do affect their performance. If home life didn't affect behavior and academic achievement, then I and a lot of other parents out there could exhale, stop worrying that too much TV will lead to mushy brains, serve three meals a day of cake and ice cream, and allow our children to raise themselves. That's not the case though. A student who is worried about being pregnant, or her brother getting locked up, or the food stamps running out before the end of the month is not focused on school. If all the adults in her family have managed to eke out a living without graduating from high school then she may not feel the impetus to finish either.

I don't have all the answers, but I do know that the solution to fixing our failing schools is far more complex than simply firing most of the teachers who work in them. The vast majority of teachers I work with - not all, but most - are dedicated professionals who are committed to doing anything necessary to improve our students' chances of success in the world. Abruptly removing half the adults who have worked to connect with students will lead to a chaos that will be extraordinarily detrimental to the children who most need stability and consistency in their lives. To initiate that bedlam based on one form of standardized test and the review of a committee that spent less than a full day actually touring the school is criminal.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Not One Minute Too Soon!



Hugging a snow-caterpillar
They probably could have spent all day throwing things in the river.
snow angels (hopefully the last of the year!)
playing hide-and-go-seek
the balance beam with GiGi
Norah may be sad to see winter leave...

The rest of us, however, are delighted that the weather has warmed up. I'm glad we at least had some special family events to celebrate in February, because otherwise I might consider the month completely irredeemable. If I ever try a stint as a stay-at-home mom, February will be the month that you're most likely to find me screaming and fleeing the house, the germs, the cold weather, and the general isolation of winter. I am not a fan.

It was gorgeous out today and we made the best of it by taking a trip to the park and going on a very muddy hike. Norah scraped her knees as she got out of the car to go on the hike, but she powered through by telling us all how strong and brave she is.