Coming to the Center: Desks Pushed to the Middle, Last Student Out

Coming to Center

As much as every school year is unpredictable, aqueous and complimentary, each with their own chorus and melody, they are all dependent on one thing- relationships. While some days are eventful and exciting, others are monotone. Not every day can be a roller-coaster ride. Many are rides on the merry-go-round. It is the optimism and passion, the thrill of the ride, that sets the tone. As consistent and repetitive as merry-go-rounds can be, you still have options: horse or carriage, tall or short pony, pink or white mane. This is why each time the music stops and a new batch of riders, runs to their 'spot,' the excitement elevates. As the organ chimes, to begin the round-about, smiles cross every face. Everyone is ready to begin, it increases in speed, then as it slows, the landscape becoming permanent once again, passengers disembark not with sadness, but with a contentedness, that the experience was worthwhile. This is what great teachers do, they make a merry-go-round as exciting as the tallest of free falls.

I observe, with a calm spirit, knowing I made an impact. Last day of school, last class period of 2017-2018.


Desks Pushed to the Middle

The classroom an ocean, both salty and agitated, but also hyper with an energy, felt no where else. There is a buoyancy to their humor, each student drifting on the surface, some on flotation devices, some on their backs looking up at the sky. A lightness, simplicity is in the air. There is no more pressure of exams or grades. Just a few minutes of hovering and bobbing before, the last bell of the year rings out. Desks, once spread out across the tile floor are now centered, each touching one another, forming a pier, in the middle, of the empty room. Students are converging on it, climbing on the slate tables. It looks like a playground, rather than a classroom.

Giggles and hugs begin. One student starts to count down-"Ten seconds until we are no longer 7th graders...ten, nine, eight," the rest of the class chimes in. The anticipation is growing, it is palatable. Some run over and hug me, others crowd around the door. The bell rings and like bands of surfers, they ride out into the hallway, most turning around, for one final wave. Then the room feels very empty.  I teach 7th grade, I had 156 students last year. Each one, adding to the salinity of my ocean of education. These are my last 30, exiting into the realm of summer. But, as they enter the wave of freedom, I see every face, I hear every giggle and they engulf me like a gust of wind, guiding my sails out into the current of boats and dingy's. The silence lingering in my room, almost swallows me, I rush into the hall to usher the crowd, rather than sink into its darkness.

It's just another day. I tell myself as I click off the lights. There is a heaviness though. The vibes might be easy going, but the tone is solemn. It knows. This was the last day of school. Although, being a 7th grade teacher, most of my students will be here next year and I will see them in the halls, they are no longer my students. They are now simply, travelers, passengers, participants. They are the crowd at the amusement park. I may join them on a ride or two, but they will be fleeting images of last year. Every face emblazoned on the walls of my classroom. But, also a wisp of laughter, swirling out into the breeze of progress and continuation. It is a hard day, even for the most veteran of teachers. This is my 15th year coming to an end. It doesn't get any easier per se, it just feels more rewarding. As a long-time educator, I am better at reflecting now. So even after a year with the most challenging of classes, I see progress, I recognize how far we have come and I appreciate the opportunity to have experienced my time with them. For, every class, every student leaves a mark and these marks, create the constellations that brighten my night sky. They are the X's on the treasure map that I use to navigate my next year. For without them, I would not have had an opportunity to grow myself.

Last Student Out

This is one of many last days, where there is a changing of the guard. A new adventure awaits, but the indelible aura of every class, settles in to the nooks and crannies. Adding to the flavor and texture of the classroom spirit. The castle remains, fortified with the interactions of the previous year. New students will enter in August and leave in May, and with every transfer, comes new memories. This is why we do what we do, to reach as many students as we can. If we build strong relationships, even over the summer, as they splash in the pool and play in the sand, they will have a bit of our spirit with them. Our words of kindness and encouragement will echo, quietly, as they dive in to the deep end. Our mindfulness and joy will be the hug they need as they try a new adventure. For after all, we were their bridge, luminosity, and warm blanket, for the last nine months and that may end with the final bell, but the memory is durable, lasting and integrated into who they are and will become.

A Picnic in the Park or A Day at the Beach: The Excitement of Unpredictability

Grass and Sand

A blanket, some refreshments, a tall tree, or large canopy. You ease in to a picnic. You wander around until you find the right spot. You may bring a Frisbee to get some exercise, or a good book to just sink into a quiet niche, with a cold lemonade. The sayings go "Life isn't always a picnic, or life isn't always a day at the beach." I have heard both. I guess it all depends on your ideal outside excursion. If you live near a beautiful park, or on a coastline, an afternoon outside, might be your jam. But, in an urban area, with little sandy solitude or grassy knolls, inside might be more to your liking. If a beach is nearby, a quick dip in the ocean might be a weekly event. If you have options, you are more likely to partake in the offerings.

Like life, where you live, play and relax is dependent not only on your location, but your personality and outlook, as well. I grew up at the beach, it was literally a two-minute walk from my high school. I however, gazed upon it daily, but only in the evening, did I venture onto it. I am not a sunlight person, I prefer the shade of a park. You often take for granted what is right in front of your eyes. These wonderment's are still a beauty to behold, we see them for their glory, we simply forget to pause and take it all in. Do you make lemonade from lemons, or do you use the juice to remove grease and grim? Either way, lemons have multiple functions. Its your need and purpose, that decides how you ultimately use them. How often do you hear the waves splash on the shore, feel the cool breeze, but focus on the hot sand burning your feet?

The reverberation in the halls, alternates between silence and laughter. Students are taking finals, this last week of school, and the mood may trough, to a focused energy, but soon after each bell, it crests into a wave of sheer excitement. The end is near. The wave is about to break on the shore and everyone is riding the surf. Boards are all pointed towards the beach. While some are in wet suits and ready for the undertow, others are paddling slowly, trying to avoid the larger peaks and ridges. Either way, everyone will float onto the sand in three days. They have left a footprint that will be everlasting, regardless of tide. Whether on grass or sand, park or beach, a picnic is based around family and friends. If the drink of choice is, lemonade or fruit punch, it doesn't matter, as long as the weather is good and the ants are at bay, fun is on the horizon.

Weathering and Deposition

A school year, like a sandcastle, is both sturdy and solid, with the right amount of planning and foundation. If you build it far enough away from the tide, it will prevail, at least for awhile. If the water to sand ratio is not consistent, it will topple quickly. It takes patience, buckets and shovels and a keen eye. You have to be observant, not only of the ocean, but of pedestrians on the beach. There is always commotion nearby, you have to anticipate it. Each wall, building the structure, each class, adding a layer to the day. Every grain: large silica, or shiny quartz, adding to the composition. While some beaches are smooth and silky, others chunky, with shells and coral.

Regardless of texture, however, beaches are revered, visited and appreciated. Many tourists and locals pass through, parks and beaches, many build their residences near by, get comfortable, build a community, in their adjacency. These landscapes are a selling point for any realtor. Their qualities and characteristics, a desire for students in their classrooms. For teachers, who traverse many different environs every day. In the morning it might be a woodland area, shaded and relaxing. By, the afternoon it may be a bustling lake shore. They must be able to navigate smoothly, to avoid disturbance.

There may be forecasts of impending weather conditions, or circumstances that close off the area from fellow travelers. There may be obstacles and events that create setbacks and succession. But, there are also sunny days and beautiful memories. Children frolicking, dipping their feet in the water, or feeling the blades of grass, between their toes. This is what you do at the beach, play in the sand. This is what you do at the park, lie on the lawn and embrace the serenity. This is when, you feel at home. You feel safe, you feel free. This is when you make memories.

We meet them, in a crowd, as our summer ends, with some unpredictability and uncertainty. They gather, on common ground, nervous and anticipatory. They seem very unfamiliar, but quickly we see a personality, behaviors emerge. Some visitors raise large, colorful umbrellas that they hunker down underneath. Others simply plop down on a towel and take in the scenery. Either way, they are present. They ventured to the sand and grass and are expecting a day out. Both recreational and rustic. They are carrying with them a basket, of expectations and requisite. They want to explore, but also feel a kinship with their landscape. If they are aware of their options, they might just step out from under the shade of their canopy and bask in the sun. Will you join them?

13 is the Magic Number (or Place Should I Say)- A Weekend in Chicago, a Poetic Perspective

Don't blink. Don't miss a second, I tell myself, half asleep, stumbling on to the bus in the dark. It is 4:30 am and they forgot to turn the back parking lot lights on. There is a line of cars with their headlights on, facing the bright yellow school bus, providing some illumination, as suit cases roll across the sidewalk. Parents are hugging their children and spouses. I have three of my children going too, so I have shuffled them to the back of our transportation and hugged my youngest son and my husband good bye. They wave as they pull into the darkness. A head count later, and we ourselves pull away and begin our journey to the airport.

At first, there is silence, it is welcoming. But then a giggle, another giggle, and students begin to rouse and get excited. The conversations infused with laughter and anticipation. Security, breakfast and we are in line, luggage in tow. As we stand in line to board, we hear an announcement wishing "Beckendorff quiz bowl team good luck at their nationals tournament." There is a cheer from the crowd. It is nice to be recognized. Boarded and approaching the runway, the guffaw is still in full swing. But, shortly after we are airborne, I see heads nodding and placed down on tray tables. A quick nap before we land in Chicago. Fifteen students, each with a parent or two. 37 of us total. The journey begins.

The group disperses, half on one hotel trolley, the other has to wait for the next one. It is cold. 42F and dry. It is the first thing most of us notice. Even at 4:30 am it was in the 60's in Houston. Our first day is fun and relaxing. My children and I venture around Chicago, visit the Art Institute, Millennial Park and downtown. We ride the E and my boys get to experience a subway, for the first time. It is awesome to have a mini-vacation day before the tournament begins. It is a family day for all. Then in the evening, students play scrimmage games to get into the mindset of quiz bowl. It is just for fun and it helps them relax and ease into the next two days of competition.

Competition day, rapid succession of eight games, with some buys in between. Lunch and laughter. The team I am coaching, is very competitive but also laid back, this is my mindset as well. Keep moving forward, lean in, but have fun. If you don't relax a little you will burn out very quickly. I am keeping in contact with parents, who are mentoring the other two teams, they are winning and losing but doing great. Having fun. In the end, the other two teams don't make the playoffs, but decide to play the consolation rounds the following day, to get more experience for next year. The more you play, the better you get. The A team, makes the playoffs and are very energized after the last game. Again, family time awaits. Everyone goes their separate ways.

I order Giordano's deep dish pizza and the boys and I eat in our room watching TV. I need to decompress, and regain my voice. I have just gotten over bronchitis and my voice is starting to wane again.

The playoffs begin 8:30 am, we win another 4 matches, losing our fifth. This puts us in 13th place. We are given a trophy and my students are disappointed at first, but get excited to have made 13th place. We lose to a really good team, but barely. This makes them proud. We have hours until we have to be at the airport, so I ask all my players to attend other matches and watch. Watch and learn. It strengthens your skill to play, but watching a great team can make just as strong of an impact. They meet me a few hours later, with tales of power players and quick buzzing. They all speak of strategies they discovered to improve their own skills. Goal accomplished.

Airport, dinner. Chortle and chuckle. I sit, in the back row of seats at the gate, watching my students and parents mingle. They are all smiling and happy. We did great. We did not win every game, but we didn't lose all of them either. Every player had fun. Parents watched games and learned strategies, to help their child, to become better players. That is what I call a success. Three days in Chicago and now we board our flight and are homeward bound. We carry with us an experience, one of challenge and competitiveness, but also, one of family and friends. Half of this team will participate next year, the other half are off to high school. A bittersweet ending to two years, with some of these amazing students.

13th place is a magic number. It is a holder, a number that puts our score in a category. But, it is a just a number, a place marker. Every laugh, smile, moment of frustration, concentration and success, is what takes this adventure to the next level. Reflection is so very important. I had students and parents write a reflection of the trip. Every single one was positive. Win or lose they all said, it was the experience, the excitement and energy of playing that made the trip worthwhile. This made me happy.

My motto for quiz bowl is "Keep moving forward, lean in and focus on the game." Not win. But enjoy the experience. My goal is for my students to have integrity, play hard, be humble and have fun. If this is in place, the win will come more often than not. 13th place out of 191 teams. Top 6% percent in the nation. I think that this year at least, 13 is our lucky number. Next year, lets shoot for top ten.

Shadow and Shade are as Important as Color and Texture on a Classroom Canvas

Shadow and shade have an ominous connotation. There is a sense of something lurking in the darkness. A feeling that one is not seeing the whole, picture, that they are obscured. But, in the world of art- they represent a silhouette, a reduction in light, that causes other objects to be illuminated. In our classrooms, it is the elevation of confidence and joy, that with every counter-shade becomes heightened and defined.

All paintings, no matter how beautiful, need shading. This is what fills them out, gives them depth. The strokes of the acrylic, illuminates the breadth of consistency, but the hue determines the layers and perspective. We get the image to pop off the canvas, when we add a little shadow on its edges. We do not want our masterpiece to be flat and matte. We want it to be distinctive and vivid. How can we create a harmonious, natural piece of art, without seeping into a garish, artificial mural? We have to stay within the lines to keep the contrast visible. Yet, we must go bold and dynamic with our choice of pigmentation and luminosity. There is a heavy rain on the horizon, if we do not create an impact before it arrives, the enamel is going to drip and blend, leaving a messy, undefined memory. But, if we move our portrait into the studio, protecting it from the elements, we will complete our masterpiece, our school year, with sturdy, well-defined clarity.

Every painting, an artist will tell you, is like your child. You discipline it, shape it, add dimension, nurture it. As you complete it, it matures, takes on its own meaning and personality. With each gaze a new aspect is revealed. Every on-looker, passer by, will discover that amidst the brushstrokes and personal touches, there is a simplicity, that only the artist can reveal. This is the time of year for clean lines and purposeful movement. There needs to be a sense of urgency, with an underlying hint of individuality. The clock is ticking away our light and we must adjust to the dusk. The essence of our arena, needs to stay well-lit, in order for the shift to occur. These students will be moving on shortly and we need to focus on the display of every piece of artwork, not just those who are in the nearest rooms.

Every classroom is a panorama, with faces and expressions that change daily. There is a buoyancy to the tempera. A heft to the water color. It is almost undefinable. Yet, when we stop, pause and observe, as if it is a work of art, we see its edges, its shadows, its hidden gems. Art evokes emotions. It arouses curiosity and summons our understanding, of the world around us. Classrooms excite, evolve and awaken, in much the same way. Every voice a stroke of the brush, every laugh a splash of color. But, in the end, they both rouse a familiarity we feel deep in our bones, we know to be true. Viewpoint, objectivity, attitude and mindset are personal. But, with some obscurity, a little muteness, we are led in new directions. We focus on new details, we otherwise would have missed.

The texture of a classroom tends to lose its appearance and consistency, towards the end of the year. Teachers are packing up, walls become bleak and faded. This creates a sense of finality that is not intended. When students feel that their teachers are done for the year, they feel a disconnect a resoluteness, that they are past the finish line. This is when behavior issues arise and frustration ensues. We need to keep a sense of momentum and anticipation alive. Especially now. We will only have this group, this combination of oils, gloss and varnish for a little while longer. This cornucopia of light, chroma and landscape is temporary. We have to make sure we enter the art museum, cheering and excited, not exhausted and bored. If we keep the palette full of contrasting shades and vibrant hues, we can be prepared to put the final brushstroke on our canvas. We will have options.

Every mindful choice we make as educators, especially as we close up our school year, results in more sparkle, more verve. This sprightliness results in a memory, both distinctive and timeless. These moments are what we remember when we are adults. It's what you will be remembered for, at least by these students. When we reflect back on our own school days- it is the end of the year we remember. The transition from one grade to another. Every year is a vignette, a characterization of our experiences. Let's make these last few weeks a profile in mindfulness- let's be memorialized on the museum wall. Hung in the recesses of our students minds, as they venture off to another wing. Let's not be the piece of art, in the corner, often over-looked. Let's be the engraving, the statue, the sketch, front and center. Not in the lobby but in the main gallery.

Degradation in Isolation: Opening the Door to Verbal Collisions

There is degradation in an isolated system. When two objects collide, the energy available for more work is lessened. Momentum is compromised. But in an open system, this same collision exchanges any conserved energy with its surroundings. Mass may enter or leave the system and external forces may influence the system, and this is a good thing.This physics phenomenon applies to not only objects in motion, but ideas and information as well. When verbal collisions occur, dialogue both argumentative and acceding, there is a level of commerce, a network of correspondence that permeates through the trade route. Like the spices of Morocco reaching the far shores of New York City. Information has a path, a purpose. If we close our doors and isolate ourselves, we become limited in our thinking.

Narrow mindedness will prevail over avoidance. We need to purge misinformation, skim off the excess, the weight of ulterior motives and deception. But we can only do this if we step outside our protective bubble. We follow certain people, we know have similar mindsets. We read the news from sources we deem credible. We ignore the banter of those we believe to be hypocrites and liars. But, is this healthy? We may disagree. We may find the words of dissidents and nonconformists offensive and inappropriate, but maybe if we listen, objectively, we might catch a glimpse as to their motives. As humans, we do not act out and speak violently when we are happy. We become discordant when we feel oppressed and forgotten.

This is not to say that some people are disrespectful and dangerous and that we should stay clear of them. But, I believe humans become disturbed and what some call 'monsters' because somewhere along the way, they were isolated, traumatized or pushed to their limit. When we disengage from them they spiral out even more. When we segregate and insulate we may feel we have quarantined the behavior, but we have merely redirected it. I have heard many many teachers recently, fall into this trap. They say 'this child is a lost cause." or "it is not my fault, my students are not doing the work." But if these teachers stopped the blame game and listened and observed what was truly happening, they would see that these children they are teaching, are victims. Victims in that they may be unaware of the deception. Not un-empowered, or weak, but they must face challenges we are not even aware of. Victims of a social network both distracting and demeaning. Victims of low expectations. Victims of labeling and categorization. Victims that can endure and overcome, if we help elevate them.

Verbal collisions are necessary. Degradation occurs in a closed system. Elevation, admiration, approval, morality, esteem can only happen in an open one. Discourse is one thing. Argumentation and debate is another. We can not shy away from what makes us uncomfortable. We have to accept that we are not perfect as a society. We say there is discrimination, prejudice, inequality but we often avoid the collision with reality, that we have to actively do something about it. We have to become participants in the movement to improve the lives of others. 

We must exit our personal vehicles and enter the subway of social causes. Public transportation (dialogue) may be crowded but it is an Uber or taxi that isolates us from the rest of the world. Buy a ticket, walk through the turnstile and enter the masses. This is when true change can happen.