Kinley Gains Perspective

Each morning in Room 17 at Mayflower Mill Elementary, I sit with my class in a circle for Morning Meeting.  I've been doing this with my classes for 10 years, and it really helps to build a sense of community within the classroom.  The idea was first presented to me by my mother-in-law who was teaching 5th grade at the time, and she had read about it in a book titled The Responsive Classroom.

I have four main goals with Morning Meeting: 
1)  to help the students get to know everyone, not just their best friends,
2)  to help the students learn to take care of each other so that they all feel good about being in the class,
3)  to allow the students to share experiences and ideas together, and
4)  to have fun together.

Each day we begin by going around the circle and greeting each other.  I've spent weeks teaching the children the proper way to shake hands (no limp fish, grasp the palm instead of the fingers, shake from your elbow not your shoulder, be firm but gentle, etc.), the importance of eye contact, and what to do if you forget a name.  These are all life skills that extend far beyond the confines of Room 17 (and, by the way, they're skills that not even all the adults I encounter have mastered).

After greeting, we then have time for five children per day to share something that's on their minds.  Often they share details about their weekends or the latest adventures of their pets.  But sometimes they share about the death of a grandparent or their concern about an upcoming event in their lives.  I've spent weeks teaching them the proper ways to respond, both to fun comments and to serious ones.

So when Kinley signed up to share recently, I wasn't surprised.  I was curious about what she was planning to share (surely she wouldn't reveal some embarrassing family tidbit!), but I decided to wait and see rather than call her up to my desk for a preview.

Since she hadn't been the first child to sign up to share, she had to listen to two other classmates share before it was her turn.  One child shared about how he had spent his weekend and another shared about winning a soccer game.  When Kinley's turn came, she had decided to tell her classmates that our family will be spending the summer of 2011 in London where Josh will be teaching in a Purdue-sponsored study-abroad program. 

All eyes turned to me.  This was interesting to me since my students are usually very good about remembering to give eye contact to the speaker.  But, admittedly, the speaker isn't usually the child of the teacher.  Rather than giving their full attention to Kinley or even raising their hands to ask her a question, they all wanted to see what I had to say on the subject.  I smiled and then asked, "Are there any questions for Kinley?"  After all, the rest of the students don't have their parents present at Morning Meeting to steal their moments in the spotlight.

Immediately, several hands popped up.  One student asked, "Will you get to see the Eiffel Tower?"  Kinley stared at the child for a beat, and then said with only slight snarkiness, "Well, the Eiffel Tower is in Paris, not London.  And besides, I've already seen it."

Another student asked, "How long are you going to be there?"  Yet another asked, "Is your whole family going?"  After the maximum three questions per speaker had been asked and answered, I called on the next child who had signed up to share.

This child said excitedly, "I'm going to Michigan this weekend!"  The children politely asked three questions and listened intently to the answers.  Morning Meeting ended, and we went about the rest of our learning day.

On the drive home that afternoon, Kinley appeared thoughtful.  After a few silent moments, she said, "You know what, Mom?  For some people, going to Michigan for the weekend is a really big deal."

I had no idea that she'd been processing this all day, and so it took me a moment to respond.  I thought about how Kinley had gotten her first passport before she was a year old and had been to Hawaii, Thailand, Japan, Korea, Australia, New Zealand, New Caledonia, and Malaysia before she was five.  She had lived in Italy instead of attending the second semester of kindergarten, had seen five continents, and had visited every Disney park in the world except for one (Tokyo Disneyland). 

But these trips, which to any other child would seem spectacular, were, to her, commonplace.  Routine.  Normal.  Suddenly, after one Morning Meeting, it was starting to become clear to her just how unusual her experiences were.  She wasn't feeling superior.  She wasn't looking down her nose at her classmate.  It was just that it was finally dawning on her that she was different.

I adjusted my rearview mirror so that I could see her in the back seat.  I said, "Yes, honey.  You're right.  Isn't that interesting?   You get to go on short weekend trips to Chicago and Nashville and other U.S. destinations all the time, but for some people, that's huge."

She looked pensive.  I could tell she was still processing.  I thought about asking her more questions but decided to let her think it through herself.  I readjusted the mirror and continued our drive.  She didn't say anything else, and I let it drop. 

No doubt this wouldn't be the last time in her life that she would notice a difference between her own life experiences and those of her peers.  Nor, I'm sure, will it be the last time that my daughter opens her mouth in my classroom and I have no idea what's going to come out.

Meet the Teacher Night at Mayflower Mill Elementary

Tonight was "Meet the Teacher Night" at my daughter's school, but it certainly wasn't the first time she had met her teacher.  Of the 24 students in her 4th/5th combined class, she is the only one who has known the teacher since the moment of her birth.  Her teacher is me.  Her mother.

When I found out in June of 2009 that Kinley had been accepted into the 2nd/3rd Gifted and Talented class, I was a little stunned.  She hadn't been accepted at the end of 1st grade, and then, at the end of 2nd grade, she was scheduled to be in a regular 3rd grade class.  When the call came informing me that she had been moved into the GT class, I didn't know how to react.  I had already made my peace with her placement and had decided that God knew best.  And now, I was not only going to have to face the changes of having a child in an accelerated class, but I was going to have to prepare to be her teacher for the two years following 3rd grade since there is only one 4/5 GT class at our school.  And I teach it.

I quickly started thinking of options.  A)  We could decline.  Her 2nd grade year had been great, and I was confident in the skills of the teachers in the regular classrooms at Mayflower.  B)  We could accept but move her to the GT class at another elementary in our school corporation.  C)  I could move to teach another GT class at another school in our corporation.  D)  We could *gulp* accept, and I could be her teacher for 4th and 5th grades.

After much reassurance by my principal, we went with option D.  I immediately began asking for prayers from my friends, usually accompanied with an eye-roll and lots of sarcasm.  I should have been more sincere.

It wasn't until this summer that I began to pray in earnest for God to guide me through this process.  I know that my dear mother-in-law has been praying for the situation, too, and the results of those prayers have been evident over the last two weeks.

While tonight was the official parent meeting at school, classes actually began last Tuesday.  That was the day that Kinley requested that we take her traditional "first day of school" picture together this year.  I choked back tears as she skipped ahead of me to pose in front of our house with her bookbag.  I was so touched that she would think of marking our first day as teacher/student this way.  As we perfected our pose she whispered, "I am so excited about today, but I'm going to try to act just like every other student."  The tears now refused to be stifled.  Day 1, and I'm already crying.

The first day went really well.  Kinley chose a seat across the room from my desk.  (Actually, she first chose the desk closest to me until I explained that those seats were usually reserved for students who needed my attention most.)  She excitedly shared about her day with her daddy when we got home, and I retold him the highlights from my perspective after she went to bed.

Day 2 started with student presentations.  Each child was to bring in three items --small enough to fit in a lunch sack -- that represent themselves.  Josh had helped Kinley choose her items since I felt strongly that she shouldn't get extra help from her teacher on assignments.  So during her presentation, when she pulled out her items, I was curious to hear her explain how they related to her personality.  When, at the end of her presentation, her classmates began to ask her questions about her world travels, I was so filled with pride to hear her intelligent, well-thought-out answers that I started to CRY!  This was certainly an unexpected consequence!  This year was going to be full of surprises.

So tonight when I made my traditional parent-night speech, I shouldn't have been surprised when my daughter was one of the first to raise her hand with a question.  And afterwards, when her daddy critiqued my spiel (granted, I asked for his opinion), it should have seemed normal.  But it doesn't.  Not yet anyway.