I believe.

I don’t do maxi dresses (I’m too short) and I’m not really in love with granola (blame the granola binge of ‘06), but the way I talk to my class sometimes, I’m sure I’m labeled the ‘hippie teacher’. We talk about feelings and goals and quotes that inspire us. We talk about why we are learning and how we are learning it and what we can do with the knowledge we are gaining. We sometimes talk about how what we learn in school just isn’t for school, it’s for life- that every piece of information we gather is to help us create a foundation we can stand on later in life. And sometimes we just talk about how hilarious Calvin and Hobbes is.



So it came as no surprise the other day when a conversation about rights and responsibilities trickled down and twisted it’s way into a conversation about what we believe in. With ten minutes left before the bell, the kids took out paper and wrote down anything and everything they believed in 100%. It could be silly or serious or funny. It could be about religion or school or family or friends or Calvin and Hobbes (there’s a C & H fanatic in my class and he cracks me up on the regular. I’m thinking of a good alias name that suits him because his original name is so* far out).

One of the best things about being a teacher (besides July and August- actually, I don’t really believe that but I know a lot of non-teachers always make that comment in their head so I thought I’d beat them to the punch, hoo ha!) is that you get to read all the thoughts of your students. Seriously, if you have an open class, it’s like reading the diary of 15 inspired minds. Sure, sometimes you read pages of stuff like this: “I whent too the stor nd ete a peese ov chaklet cacke whith mi mom” and you brain feels like it’s on acid and you just want to insert a Jack Daniels iv after dechipering it, but a lot of the time, most of the time, you discover that if you let kids be brilliant, they are.


I was thinking about this as I was skimming through what they wrote, giggling as someone told me that they believe “Comic books are as good as regular books, maybe even better because regular books even the little baby ones don’t have as many pictures as comic books do”, when I stopped and read what one of my favorite students, Abby, had written. It was only one sentence but it made me smile. She wrote:

I BELIEVE IN GREAT BIG THINGS

Abby is not the loudest kid in my class (that’s the C & H fanatic), nor is she the most academically gifted but she’s the one student in my class who is always working. Always. Like, if a circus was right outside our window and Hannah Montana was putting on a free show and handing out chocolate bars, Abby would be just as excited as the other kids but she would keep working. So I knew that this answer, these six words weren’t a cop out, a quick way to complete the task at hand, these words were what she was feeling. Although her answer might not have been as specific as her classmates, nor as long- I do know she labored on it, and her response made me so excited for this school year and all the great big things that are ahead of us.

And if that makes me sound like the hippie teacher, I’m okay with that. No, I’m excited to be that.

What inspires you? What do you believe in?

Highlight of the Day

I brought in a framed picture I have of the Mona Lisa. It looks impressive, the frame is gorgeous- I saved it from it’s resting spot above the mens urinal in the Art Gallery I used to work at. Anyway, I brought it in to the grade 3 room when we started art and we talked about it and then asked the class if they had any questions. One of my favorite students raised his hand and asked if I had actually painted The Mona Lisa! Needless to say, any student who thinks I am capable of painting the Mona Lisa will get an automatic A. And a unicorn.

Amaya School of Cool

I've been very busy and I've recieved a few emails asking if I had died. So I thought I'd write to let you know that I am infact alive! even if I’ve spent every waking moment of the last two weeks in school and there’s a chance that an email discussing only school events is going to be as entertaining as reading the ingredients on a bottle of shampoo.

Everyday there’s roughly one thousand things I learn and my brain routinely runs out of room for everything I should know or remember. So I’ve become a post-it queen and have turned to drinking heavily while on recess supervision. (One of those confessions is false, I trust you are wise enough to establish which one).

I’ve taken to calling my classroom “The Cave”. It’s at the farthest end of the school, down the longest hallway and is the last classroom. Walking to and from my classroom from the photocopier room has become my new cardio work out. A grade 6 teacher has actually approached me and wants me to wear a pedometer because he sees me in the halls so much he’s convinced I’m walking a marathon everyday. Plus, I’m doing it in heels. In short, I’m going to have killer legs by the time this year is over. (See how I’m glass half-fulling this situation? Progress people, progress).

One of my favourite blocks is the block right before lunch when I read Judy Blume to the class. Students can choose to read their own book (and other than the 9 year old who is reading Twilight- book approved by her mom), everyone hangs on every word I say. Looking up and seeing the whole class laughing hysterically over Judy Blume is always a highlight of my day.

The teacher in the classroom next to me is the coolest women alive. Mrs. S is mid 40’s and is the kind of chick who you can imagine shaving her hair off her head and still looking amazing. I made a joke about how I’m going to have to step up my clothing choices with her beside me and she’s taken it as a personal challenge. Each morning she comes in and struts around my desks showing off her outfit. And every single day it’s been impressive. Perfect hair, thoughtfully coordinated accessories, painstakingly applied lipgloss. So not only will I have killer legs this year, I will start going to work on not looking homeless. Mostly out of shame and partly out of my competitive spirit. Either way, win.

There is a boy in grade 3- Ryan, who farts. A lot. And naturally, when he does his classmates expect him to say something acknowledging it- but he refuses. Things came to a boiling point last Thursday when his classmates complained that Ryan had once again farted and wouldn’t say ‘excuse me’. Before I could say anything, I looked at Ryan (a chubby boy with spiky hair), with crossed arms who looked at me and said “They have no proof. Smell my butt, there’s no farts there”. Of course, it sounds funny now, but I assure you- NO ONE laughs in class when this happens. I’m not sure why, maybe because his classmates are so offended or Ryan is so adamant that they can’t pin the fart on him. And because everyone takes it so seriously- I, of course, find it hilarious. So I’m the one person in a room with 20 kids who is trying not to laugh when the class discussion is centered around farting. I am a model of maturity.

My principal has heard me calling the photocopier machine a piece of shit. More than once. But in my defense? I was after school, it was JAMMED AGAIN and it IS A PIECE OF SHIT. (I already have fantasies of taking it out back and showing it who is boss- much like the fax machine incident in Office Space).

Anyway, that’s a snippet of school life. Things have definitely calmed down since school has started and I’m working on finding a balance that includes proper time for showering, sleeping and you know, catching up on all your wonderful lives. I've been neglecting all of my friends, but I will catch up, eventually!!! I hope you are all having a wonderful Monday!

Today has been good. School is so much fun. I'm actually happy to be doing something rewarding. Daddy is proud of me, I know it :)

Lots of love!

A

I'm being stalked!!!

Due to an alarming amount of stalking by a certain woman in Vienna who uses the Cox network, I am changing my blog address. I will send out a mass email to my fanclub letting you guys know my new address.

Lots of Love and Less Stalking

Dear Daddy

Today has been easier than most. I can't believe it's been 25 days since we last spoke. We've never gone this long! I miss your hugs. I miss your good morning kisses. I miss you!

You're not going to believe this, but I got a job! An honest to goodness teaching job. This year.
In a school. Where I will go to the same classroom everyday and teach grade three students about reading and writing and how to not write run on sentences like this one.

I have a job daddy! I've been working on seating charts and I've met with most of my upcoming students. I've had to attend several confrences and meetings which I detest with every particle of my being.

Mommy still asks that I sleep with her. It's hard to say no to her. This has been very hard for all of us, especially her. She lost her best friend, lover, father of her children. She didn't think she'd be a widow at such a young age. She thinks she didn't tell you she loved you enough--I know, she's crazy.

Mommy wants to start putting your stuff away next week. I think it will be therapy for her. I told her we would make it a big family project at the family home. I think that will be easier on all of us. I'm not ready to put your things away at my house. Infact, the thought of never seeing your shoes, or smelling your shirts, or seeing your gray hair on your pillow will be awful for me. I'm not ready for that. I can't give you up just yet. Not yet. You will tell me when. I find myself getting angry a lot daddy. I get mad because you fought so hard to live and then there are jerks who smoke crack, drink like fish who tend to live on forever. It's not fair. I have been asking God Why. I guess I shouldn't?

Haven has been coming around a lot. She told me that she is having a horrible time because she kept herself away from us, devoting herself to her boys and her work. You've always been a family first guy, so I know you understood. Perhaps you can offer Haven that comfort by letting her know that to ease her pain? She actually told me that what I have done for you has made her jealous. I was with you up to your last seconds of life. I'm a lucky girl! It was such an honor to help you. As weird as this may sound, I'm going to miss taking you to your appointments. As much as I hated them, I'm missing them. Dr. Bergin has called several times to check in on me. He says that Mommy will be okay in time. He told me that he knew my bond with you would never be broken, not even in death! Daddy, everyone knew how much I love you! Even strangers! You loved everyone. I got a letter from Gwyn on Weds. She, who was our banker, even said that your witty banter and humbleness will be missed. Crazy huh?

I love you. Dinner with mom now.


A