"Because THAT'S what Love DOES"

I have been teaching for 10 years. One of the things I love most about our profession is the unique opportunity that we have as teachers, to incorporate our “favorites” into our profession and our day-to-day life. Have a favorite color? Make it the jump-off point of your classroom decor! Have a favorite recipe? Make it with your class as part of a demonstration in “How-To Writing”! Have an interest in film? Find a spare room in your school to create a green-screen studio for student-centered movie-making! I doubt doctors and lawyers find it as easy to share their passions with their patients and clients as we do with our students! One more perk of the job (as if you didn’t love it enough already!) All of this to say that I love the book “The Giving Tree” by Shel Silverstein. When I was a science teacher, I read it to Kindergarteners during our Trees, Wood, and Paper Unit and tied it in to renewable resources. For the last six years as a fourth grade teacher, I read the story to my class each year to discuss Theme, Empathy & Gratitude. At home, its a go-to bedtime story for my own children Alana & Connor, who will make me start the book all over again if I don’t do the voices of the Tree & boy “just right”. In this, the first week of my school year and my first year in 2nd grade, I wanted to incorporate this favorite once again by sharing it with my new class. I have to say that 2nd graders give WAY MORE audible feedback during a read aloud than 4th graders. As I shared the story (which was familiar to about half of the class), the students giggled, smiled and nodded their heads as we read about the boy loving the tree and the tree loving the boy.
As the story progresses, and the boy keeps coming back to the tree and taking what he needs and then leaving, the giggles and nods are replaced by gasps and head shaking. One student says, “This is bad! He just keeps taking things and then leaving her all alone!”
At the end of each visit from the boy, where the tree offers him the part of herself that he needs and then watches as he walks away with it, the author states that “the tree was happy” and several students seem confused by this. One student even sneaks up closer to me, to look over my shoulder and make sure I’m reading that part right. *heartsmile*

I ask them, “Why do you think the tree is happy?”
The responses are varied:

Disgruntled: “She’s not happy, she’s just saying that”
Appalled: “If he keeps taking things from her she won’t have anything left!”
Thoughtful: “Maybe she is happy because she knows he will keep coming back again!”

I keep reading, and the boy does come back again, needing something different to “be happy”. The gasps continue and I feel myself becoming indignant right along with them. I say, “Can you believe this guy? He’s back again and he won’t play in her shade or swing from her branches like she wants him to, he just wants to cut down her trunk and build a boat and sail away!?!?!?!” They join me in my quiet outrage, murmuring to each other about the boy. “Isn’t he selfish? Isn’t he greedy!?”

I sit back in my chair with an exasperated sigh, close the book and say “I don’t think I can read this anymore..it’s just too sad and it’s making us all upset!”

The “Noooooo” and “keep reading!!!” cries (that feed my teacher soul), echo all around the room. I sigh and try to look hesitant as I reopen the book and say “if you insist” I revel a little as they all become quiet and lean in closer...The story finishes with the boy, an old man now, finally coming back and deciding that all he needs from the tree is to be with her and rest. She, an old stump, offers what she has left so that he sits and stays a while. “And the tree was happy.”

I close the book and ask, “Boys and Girls, WHY did the tree keep giving and giving to the boy, even though she knew he was just going to go away, and even though she was running out of things to give him?”

I will pause here to admit Readers, that I momentarily sold my 2nd graders short in my mind today. I expected answers like “because she’s a nice tree” or “because its a good friend”. Perhaps it was because my expectations were too tempered, that I was so moved by the first response I got. A boy sitting close to me was wiggling his fingers in my face with his lips pursed tightly to stifle the sounds he wanted to make, but knew would disqualify him from being called on. Impressed by his silent enthusiasm I chose him first. He took a deep breath and then offered this:

“Because…..That’s what Love does”

This answer stopped me in my tracks for just a second. It reminded me of a book I read in the Spring by the same Title (Love Does, By Bob Goff) and it struck me as being an absolutely perfect and simple answer to a very complex question.

That’s exactly what love does. Love says “If I have what you need, I will give it to you” and love doesn’t count the cost. Love says, “If you’re happy, I’m happy” even when your happiness takes you away from me, or diverts your attention to other things. LOVE DOES whatever it can to show itself with intentionality, to give of itself and Love is made happy through the giving, so much so that depletion of self goes almost unnoticed.

I was humbled and inspired by this reminder of what Love does in us, for us and through us, if we are brave enough to let it do what Love does best.

A Tour of my Classroom (before it gets lived in, tested and ammended!)

When I found out I was moving from 4th grade to 2nd grade I was having a hard time visualizing my new role. I did what I often do, when I need to appeal to my visual learning side, I turned to YOUTUBE. Some of the room tours, teacher Vlogs, app reviews and lesson videos were really helpful to me, but there weren't as many as I thought there would be. If I wanted to know how to create a "smokey-eye" make-up look (which of course there is a time and place for), I would have literally thousands of options, but when looking for some engaging video tutorials on Primary Grade room setup, lesson strategies, etc the options are more limited.
In an effort to be part of the solution, I'm putting my room out there. Maybe if more teachers start sharing their journey, we'll all feel more comfortable to do so too! So, for what it's worth, this is my room and I"m hoping posting it gets me some valuable feedback, suggestions, and maybe even inspires YOU to share what YOU'RE doing in your classroom!

The Role of Twitter in Education

My scholastic Twitter feed has gotten some attention locally, and our class was honored to be featured on the local news at the end of the school year. I love having one more piece of nostalgia to remember that unique and exceptional group of 4th graders for many reasons, but especially because shortly before this interview, I was asked to move to 2nd grade in the new school year, so the 4th grade class of 2014 will be my last group of 4th graders, at least for a while! ;)

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My Summer BIG list (Before It's Gone) A yearly tradition...

Every year, summer vacation comes around. Although it has nothing to do with why I got into teaching, summer vacation is certainly a tradition that I’m happy my job affords me to continue, post college graduation. Every school year, by the last day, I feel spent and ready to reenter the world as a civilian while my super-teacher cape is tucked away for a few sun-drenched weeks. This year though, I was more depleted than most. This year, I knew going in, that I would need to focus on restoration in my 7 weeks of summer, in order to return fully recharged. So, as per tradition, at the end of my first summer weekend, I sat down to write out my summer bucket list. This year, I wanted to approach it with new intentionality. Of course, June is almost over, and some of my summer plans have been made months in advanced. I decided that instead of creating a list of things I want to squeeze into my 7 weeks of freedom, instead I was going to focus on HOW I was going to embrace the plans already made in a way that would be nourishing to my soul.

A friend of mine was going through a difficult time recently, and my advice to her was to find ways to nourish her hungry soul and restore her battered spirit. I told her to reflect on what those things are, list them out and then report back to me so that together, we could strategize ways of getting more nourishment into her busy life. I realized that I needed to take my own advice and do the same. For each of us, the list of things that nourish and nurture our souls are unique. To find them in our everyday lives, we need only to open our eyes and pay attention to the things that make our souls go “Mmmm”. The themes are easy to see once you’re looking for them. For me, my soul finds nourishment in the happiness of others. I am restored in being around the people who I love and who love me in return. I also find nourishment in solitude. In quiet moments, serene places, and a head full of words.


At the core, my soul finds nourishment and my spirit is restored by a hope that comes from this:


2 Corinthians 4:16-18 So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

So this year’s summer bucket list is: Do things that nourish your soul. And the plans I have so far include:

-I’m going to enjoy this marvelous place that I live. I’m going to visit restaurants I’ve been meaning to try, buy my goods at farmer’s markets and take long, leisurely walks after slow, deliberate brunches. I’m going to meet my husband for lunch. I’m going to plan & execute girls nights, and date-nights, and family times that get me out and about in the community where I live and those nearby. I’m going to count the freckles on my children’s noses and shoulders, and read them longer books and tell them more intentional stories under starry skies, next to a jar full of fireflies in our own backyard.

-I’m going to stay home. I’m going to take coffee and breakfast on the patio and listen to the birds, I’m going to write. I’m going to make s’mores with my kids and all their neighborhood friends, talk about cigars with my neighbor, and make Sunday dinners on whatever nights suit the framily best. I’m going to sleep in and stay up late and notice the ways that light pours in our windows and think back on all the memories we’ve made as we’ve evolved this house into a home, and sit back and enjoy the end result with a good book or a good movie or a glass of wine and some dark chocolate with sea salt. Yum.

-I’m going to move into a cottage on the lake for a few days. I’m going to put on my captain’s hat, get the boat out on the water and feel the wind in my hair and the warmth of summer in my lungs. I’m going to hold onto a tube and a partner for dear life while bouncing over the ripples, trailing behind the boat and laughing until my face hurts and my body goes hurling into the air. I’m going to put on my softest cotton dress and walk down to the dock and watch the boats come in and the musicians play and the children’s eyes get heavy. I’m going to write poetry in my mind that never finds its way to paper. I’m going to marvel at fireworks reflected on the surface of the lake. I’m going to dance until my head spins.

-I’m going to get in my new car and drive to New York with windows down and music blaring! I’m going to see my family, delight in making wedding plans, immerse myself in the energy and culture of the city. I’m going to do this more than once.

-I’m going to read books for pleasure and write stories for fun.

-I’m going to entertain my extended family here in my home, take them to my favorite places enjoy the full-circled nature of life: bringing the people you love and the life you’ve built together.

-I’m going to people-watch in the airport, and continue to teach my children that every part of traveling is fun, not just arriving.

-Im going to fly to the gulf coast and dream in a hammock and build a sand-something with my children and, let the sun kiss my skin with new freckles and then dive into the ocean fill my pockets with shells and my memory card with moments.

And then, after all of that, I’m going to pour my nourished soul into a new adventure. I’m going to plan for a new school year, organize a new classroom, learn a new curriculum, embrace a new opportunity, and I’m going to remember that summer comes around each year, but I don’t live my life in wait for it. I fill my days with people and things that I love all year, and when my soul gets hungry, I will stop to nourish it.


Originally posted: http://almostsortaalways.tumblr.com/post/54879606174/my-summer-b-i-g-list)

To Be Seen (A Christmas mini-miracle from our classroom)

I want to start this post by saying that in my profession, I am often humbled by the simple truth that despite all my planning and efforts and knowledge of pedagogy and standards, my students continue to teach me things I probably should have learned long before now. In fairness to my own teachers and influences perhaps I did learn these lessons when I was young, in fact I’m sure that I did, but I am continually humbled by how deeply rooted these truths become when I see them played out in the lives of these children I am trying to pour into each day.

The latest lesson was one that I walk around feeling like I have a pretty good grip on, but still, was renewed in me in a new way this holiday season. I work at a private, residential school for children in social and economic need (that’s a mouthful isn’t it?) Perspective: The students I serve, live away from home in a group living situation. I can not generalize their home situations, as they are as diverse as the students themselves. Poverty is the common thread, hope and tools for a brighter future is the common goal. (www.mhs-pa.org)

In early years, I bought each of my students a Christmas present. I would wrap them up and present them on the last day before break, wishing I could give more, hoping that they felt the love and care in each gift. A few years ago, I started doing things a little differently. I still buy one present for each student, but I line the wall with the unwrapped gifts for all to see. Then each student chooses one name from a hat and keeps it secret. They choose a gift that they think their secret student will most appreciate. They wrap the gift, and place it under the tree. Then they write (because this is school, and we do have writing standards to meet) an essay about their student. The content guidelines are to write why the student is a “gift to us” (as a classroom community) and to give specific examples. I sit them down and talk about how important it is to see and be seen. I encourage them to really see the best in each other and find a way to capture that in their tribute. Every year, this is a most moving time of kind words and affirmation and watching students glow from the inside out. Every year I tear up and feel overwhelmed with gratitude and Christmas spirit, every year’s group surprises and enchants me in some way. This year though, I was a little nervous.

You see, the group I have this year has provided me with some new challenges in forming a classroom community. They haven’t gotten along as well as in other years, and there are a few students who just struggle to get along with anyone. Of course, we are always working on this, and each student has come a tremendous way, but still, I was admittedly trepidatious at our “name reaping” (hunger games reference!) ceremony. There was one student in particular who I feared, would have a hard time with this whole process. He wants the rest of us to believe that he is a “tough guy” who doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him, who doesn’t want to be “friends” with the other kids, who is happiest being feared by the others instead of liked by them, he is vocal about this. He is vocal about a lot of things ;)

When he put his hand in the jar and pulled out the name of the one boy in the class who he considers a friend, I was relieved. At least, I thought, he’ll WRITE a nice tribute. When the girl who chose HIS name looked at her paper, and then at me with fear, I tried to seem reassuring. “You’ll do a great job, I’m sure of it!” I said to her. She didn’t look convinced. I’m not sure I was convinced. I knew she was a kind-hearted student and would be able to write a generic essay. I spent most of my time working with him during the writing time, keeping him focussed, convincing him that “he is a gift to us because he gets in trouble to make us laugh” is not an appropriate tribute. I checked in on her once, but she said she was doing fine. And then the day arrived to share tributes. The students come up with their gift and stand on a chair, the recipient comes up front and stands in front of the reader, and listens with the class as their tribute is read in front of everyone. Then, they get to open their present. My students did an amazing job with their writings this year, every student glowed and blushed as their tribute was read. I love seeing them shift a little on their feet, and try to control their smiles…I can not do the sight justice in words here. I won’t even continue to try.



After a few tributes were read, the student, the boy I was worried about, had enough of hearing all the “gushy stuff” he asked to go to the bathroom and then I spotted him sitting at a table in the hallway when he came back. I went to ask him to come in, but he refused. “I don’t want to hear all that, I want to leave this dumb school” was his explanation. I was frustrated and even a little irritated but I allowed him to work in the hall rather than to disrupt the magic going on in the classroom. Finally, it was his turn. The girl who had written his tribute was ready to read, she seemed excited to take her turn and so I convinced him to come inside and listen. He came up front with his arm across his face. He refused to stand on the platform, he twisted around and shuffled his feet in silent protest. It was for HER sake that I didn’t just send him out, something about her countenance caused me to abide his disrespectful behavior. She began to read. The room was quiet, and as she read he slowly stopped shuffling and just stood there, I wish I could post her essay, but they give it to each other as part of their gift. I wish I had thought to photocopy it first. Here is my best summary-

******* is a gift to us for many reasons. One reason that he is a gift to us is that he is really kind. He doesn’t want us to think so, but sometimes when no one is looking I see him help ***** pick up his books or hold the door open for Mrs. Halliday. He is also a gift to us because he tries to be good. Even after he has had a terrible day or said some mean things, he always comes in the next day trying really hard. He says he’s sorry in letters and you know he means it even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud. Sometimes after a bad day, he will have 4 good days in a row because he is trying so hard to make up for the things he said but didn’t really mean…and on and on.



I couldn’t have written the essay better myself. It was a balanced, truthful account of a lovable boy who tries and fails and tries again. My face was wet with pride and humility, I wanted to grab and hug her, I wanted to grab and hug him, I hoped he wouldn’t just snatch his gift and sit down, and then he peeked his face up and with tears streaming down it he looked at her, said “thank you”, opened his gift, hid his face in it, and hurried to his seat to bury his face farther.

The girl came up to me and I got to give her my hug and tell her how proud I was of her. When the rest of the tributes were finished, I went to the boy with his face buried in his present. After a few minutes of my sitting beside him, he looked up, his face still a river of tears. I’ve learned to only ask yes, or no questions when he is upset, and so I asked him. “Are you crying because you are sad?” he shook his head no. “Are you crying because you are happy?” He nodded his head yes and put it down again. I squeezed his shoulder. “I thought ******* did a really great job writing that essay about you.” I said. He nodded his head yes again. “We’re all glad you’re here, and I hope you don’t still want to leave this school” I said. He shook his head no, and then said something I couldn’t hear. I asked him to say it again and he lifted his head and said,

“they really see me…” and started to sob.

At the end of the day, he slipped a letter in my hand on his way out the door. It reads:



Dear Mrs. H,

thank you for taking time away from your family to buy us all gifts to give each other. I know you don’t have to do that and we don’t deserve it most of the time. I’m sorry for all the times I am bad. I will try harder. Merry Christmas! The party was fun after all.

I see you.

*********



To be seen for who we really are beneath who it is we pretend to be, is a powerful and beautiful thing. To be affirmed for who we really are is a sustenance that nourishes like nothing else can. To be loved even when we are at our darkest and are pushing that love away, is a gift that brings Christmas to life and sets our hearts aglow.

See and be seen. Love and be loved. Forgive and be forgiven. Learn from those you teach.

Follow our class on Twitter: @MrsHallidays4th