The last several months, I have started my day eating breakfast and watching “Leave It to Beaver”. The show started in 1957 and ended in 1963. I was born in 1959 so it wasn’t something I watched as a kid, at least not that I remember. I get it a kick out of watching it for a number of reasons, one being that as a mom of boys I can relate to a lot of craziness they get themselves into, but mostly because despite boys being boys, (forgive the stereotype), they are expected by the adults in their lives to be kind, ethical and respectful. Very different from what I see from some young people as an educator today.

I don’t blame the young people. After all, young children especially imitate and repeat what is heard from and modeled by others. Maybe it’s from the adults in their lives, maybe it’s from what they see from TV, the media, or video games. All this to say, somewhere, adults are not being careful about what they say or do around the kids in their lives.  

I’m not just talking about language, although that’s definitely part of it, it’s also sharing information that isn’t appropriate for the child’s age, things that are violent, sordid, unkind, unethical and disrespectful. Things the child takes to playdates, into the public and into school. One of the things that jumped out at me in particular occurred after recent presidential elections where the lack of tolerance for others’ thoughts and feelings are disregarded in class and on the playground. Places where children should be learning and playing. Kindness was thrown out the window replaced by name calling, bullying, anger and fear. Children began saying things that were anything but childlike, mimicking things that they had obviously heard from some adult somewhere.  

Things have only gotten worse as we’ve all dealt with a pandemic, changes in school, families struggling with finances and relationship issues and nobody is protecting the children. Unlike my little Leave It to Beaver family, which works to teach, protect and prepare children to become kind and productive adults, we have allowed ourselves to believe that children are just little adults who can handle anything we can and this is simply not true. Because when children don’t feel safe and protected by the adults in their lives, they act out, and in some cases, they act like the adults they see and hear.

I know there are many young parents and other adults who think I’m living in the dark ages, but these are the same adults who complain their kids are using bad language or talk back to them or don’t follow directions and don’t realize that they are merely imitating what they are allowed see and hear. It’s the whole “do as I say, not as I do” idea. It just doesn’t work. Think about how children learn as babies and toddlers. They imitate sound, watch and learn movement, imitate behavior. It’s how we all learn.  

Over the years, I have witnessed a steady decline in appropriate behavior from some of my students, however in the last 5 years or so, inappropriate behavior has increased to the point where educators now have to focus solely on helping students function in an age appropriate way so academics can be addressed at all. We refer to what students have gone through the last several years as trauma. It sounds a bit over the top, but students are behaving in similar ways to those who have suffered from violence and abuse. They’re not eating correctly, they don’t get enough sleep, and they don’t feel safe because the adults in their lives share everything with them rather than protect them.  

I totally believe kids are kids and I love them. However, I have been called inappropriate names, told no when I give directions, told inappropriate stories/jokes, watched kids push and shove each other, bully, destroy property and not care. This is in and out of schools. If a ten year old is behaving this way, it didn’t happen overnight and changes won’t be made overnight. Teachers who work with students who struggle in this way are being at the very least discouraged and at the very most, being abused. And people outside of education wonder why teachers are leaving in droves. It’s not all about the money, it’s about the constant conflict, violence, abuse from children to others. There’s more to this, but of all the issues I see in education today, after talking with teachers around the country, behavior issues are the biggest reason educators are exhausted and finding something else to do.

What does this say to kids? One, they have the power to push a teacher away and two, when they do push a teacher away it demonstrates to them that it’s just another adult who doesn’t want to deal with them. Kids want adults to set boundaries and set expectations because it creates a safety net for them. And they’ll do whatever they can to prove otherwise. Being an adult in any child’s life is hard and it means we have to be the exemplar, modeling the kindness, ethical behavior and respectfulness we would want from anyone. For those who complain about how awful people behave, it will only change when we as individuals work to make ourselves the best we can be, working hard to keep the worst out of the mouths of babes.

She smelled of baby powder and her beautiful curls crunched against my face.  She was big and soft and she insisted on sitting beside me to give me a hug, snuggling closer until she fell asleep, quietly snoring as the music played on.  Her classmates were playing instruments, dancing and moving to the music with the adults who took care of them, but for some reason, this young woman looked at me across the room, smiled, pointed, and came over for a huge, long, hug.

Her teacher and paras looked at me to ask if I was ok.  Not much earlier, this young woman had been swatting at others in the room, trying to express her feelings but not having the words.  You could tell she struggled cognitively but she was feeling the music, even if she wasn’t happy about something.  There were several students in this adaptive music class, one in a wheelchair who kept shouting “yeah” in time with the music, and others who were playing rhythm patterns on instruments and dancing in eight count phrases of easy movement to different types of music, one sounding like an Irish jig, another in French, another Greek.  One piece followed the other in rapid succession, the students grabbing the requested instruments out of the box with their name on it to join in on the music making.

I sat with my new friend for quite a while as she shifted a little and kept snoring softly.  There wasn’t much time left in class, so her para came over to wake her up and move her back to the group I had been observing.  Not happy to have her sleep interrupted, the young woman took a weak swat at her teacher who gently touched her arm and kindly asked her to wake up and go with her.  With encouragement from both of us, she did, telling me thank you and goodbye, planting a big kiss on my cheek before walking across the room.

The students were asked to get a “big” drum for themselves that were lined up against the wall.  The drums were a bit heavy, causing the middle school students to struggle a little, but praised by the adults for their strength.  They then proceeded to play drums to a pop song, imitating the rhythm pattern modeled by the teacher, the girl in the wheelchair moving immediately to the sound of the music, again shouting “yeah” in rhythm, while her para sat on the floor, holding the drum close enough for her to hit.

My new friend continued to look at me across the room, blowing kisses and making hearts with her hands, accepting the kisses I blew back to her with a cute hug to her own face.  Then came the question from her teacher – they had a few minutes left after playing the drums.  Did she want to sing her song for me?  The teacher picked out two mini guiros from the box, handing one to the young woman and one to her para who both walked over to sit by me.  Then it began – the recording of Whitney Houston singing “I Will Always Love You”. 

The girl knew every word, but occasionally insisted that either her para or I sing with or instead of her.  I was glad I knew the song!  Holding her “microphone” to her mouth (and occasionally to mine), I could hear her pretty voice matching pitch most of the time, even though she occasionally had difficulty with the words.  She put her arm in the air, waving it like she was at a concert and we joined in, still singing her heart out as best she could.  She knew every phrase, every rubato, every little nuance to the song and imitated. It was a thing to behold and I found myself grinning like an idiot, mainly to keep myself from crying.

When the song was over, we all applauded as she smiled and returned her “mic“ to the teacher.  As she and the other students left the room, she turned and blew another kiss, made another heart with her hands and left the room.  It was the best experience I had had in a classroom in a long time.

Music is in ALL of us.  In every human being regardless of their abilities.  It showed itself in the natural movement of someone who has difficulty moving.  It gives words to someone who has difficulty speaking.  And it gives joy to everyone who experiences it. We don’t need to understand how it works, know all the names of the notes or read the rhythms to experience the joy of music making.

As I sit here tonight writing about this experience, I can tell you that what I saw today was as beautiful as experiencing opera at the Met or hearing the Chicago Symphony play my favorite piano concerto and it will be just as memorable.  It was really a reminder that the music inside us is what makes us human.  All of us.

This meme popped up the other day with some long winded, pseudo inspirational thing about what someone would say to their younger self.  This got me thinking – what would I say to my younger self and how might it have changed my life?  It’s one of those things that makes your head explode if you think about it too deeply, but here are a few of my thoughts to share with you.

I would have told my younger self to say “no” more often.  Not only would it have been great training for my life right now (I still have trouble saying no), but I think of all the things I felt coerced to do that I didn’t want to do and/or was afraid to say no to.  Sometimes it was a person I wanted to impress, sometimes it was a person I wanted to like or love me.  I think I would have a lot more respect for myself if I had said “no” more often.

Don’t be so worried about what people think.  I grew up with someone who always stressed, to the point of absurdity, the need to not let people know who you really were or what you really thought because people weren’t going to like you if they knew who you really were.  This can be tied to the “saying no” thing as well and I still struggle with it.

Don’t jump into a profession just because it made you feel good in high school.  I’ve got to say, music in school saved my life in ways you wouldn’t believe.  It was the place where I belonged, where all my friends were.  The ones I couldn’t say no to or share who I really was.  Hmmm…. Anyway, I never considered any of my other strengths.  After all, my parents were sending me to college to meet my future husband, so what I majored in really didn’t matter, right?  Oh, it worked by the way.

I would ask about other options besides music education?  Writing, interior design, counseling?  There were so many options that my younger self never knew to consider.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m passionate about kids and music education, but am certainly not the greatest teacher ever and I hate grading, as much as I feel assessment is necessary – not a good combo.  But, another topic for another time.

I would tell my younger self to live on her own before she got married.  Yep, I was one of those young women who literally went from her parents to her husband.  In a day.  Took my clothes and my wedding gifts and moved in with my brand new husband after a four day honeymoon, after which he left to go teach a band camp for a week.  It was August.  We were stupid. So I guess technically I lived on my own for a week.  Unfortunately it took me decades to figure out how to deal with life on my own if I needed to.  

I would tell my younger self to not sweat the small stuff. Again, something that would have really helped me during my adult journey.  I tell my students this all the time, but I personally tend to make everything a big deal.  Tied to the whole not saying no and not saying what I really think, I get frustrated when things don’t go the way I think they should and I hate making mistakes.  The house doesn’t have to be spotless, my work doesn’t have to be perfect. You have no idea how difficult it is to be married to someone who actually lives this motto of not sweating the small stuff.  Show off.

I would tell my younger self to be a part of nature more often.  Embrace the beauty of a sunset, the sound of the surf, the colors of fall, the majesty of the mountains.  Just use all of the senses and BE.  No pics to put up on social media.  Just sit and breathe. Maybe even by yourself.

I would tell myself that it’s ok to like being around people and NOT being around people.  Again, it took me decades to figure out that while I love hanging out with people, I can’t do it all the time.  It’s ok to sit in a corner and observe.  You don’t need to be a part of everything and you can say no if you need to and people won’t hate you if you do. I think I see a theme.

I would tell my younger self to wear what you want, to do your hair the way you want, no matter how old you are or what the styles dictate.  You’re only young once – experiment if you want but stick with what you like, no matter what anyone says or thinks.  It’s more important that YOU like you than it is that others like you.

Bored yet?  Or are you considering what you would tell your younger self too?  Today IS the younger self you will be tomorrow.  Did that make your head explode?  What will I do today that I won’t regret tomorrow?

If someone ever tells you that going back to the classroom is like getting back on the bike, it’s not true.  Although it’s been decades since I’ve ridden a bike, so maybe it’s not such a great analogy.  The other day, a wise, much younger colleague shared with me that she too had gone back to teaching after being away from the classroom for a while and it took her until around Thanksgiving before she felt comfortable again.  So imagine my excitement, when six weeks into this school year I hit my stride.  Third grade, 1^st grade, 4^th grade, Kindergarten and 2^nd grade all ran without a hitch.  The lessons flowed, the transitions were smooth, the students were engaged and I was having fun.  I drove home feeling like YES, Judy has her groove back.  Then came Tuesday.

Tuesday was fine, not as smooth as Monday because some of my classes have found it difficult to get with Mrs. Bush’s groove.  I followed a young, energetic young man in this position and I’m old enough to be this person’s much, much, much older sister.  Humor me.  But Wednesday was coming and I would get back into my groove.  Unless of course a huge cold front moved through.

You know, there’s no research that says storms and full moons affect children but I’m here to tell you I have all the data you need.  While Wednesday is my long day of teaching, it’s usually fun and goes quickly.  But no, Wednesday could just as well have been the coming of the apocalypse with the way kids were behaving.  There was crying, wailing and gnashing of teeth.  Things were thrown and ripped apart.  The tattling was endless.  If I said “take care of yourself please” once, I said it a hundred times.  At least half the kinders asked to go to the bathroom during a 50 minute class – one at a time.  And you don’t play that game with kinders.  I’ve had bodily fluids end up on my carpet before and it causes all kinds of crazy.

As you can imagine, the high that was Monday became great disappointment in myself and my ego being taken down a notch.  How am I, as a “teacher leader” supposed to help other teachers when I am struggling to do the job myself?  Going back to what that wise young colleague said, was that she discovered that she knew exactly what she was supposed to be doing, she just couldn’t physically or mentally do it.  That’s exactly how I have been feeling!  I know in my head exactly what I should be doing.  I see it when I visit teachers and I appreciate the great artistry of their teaching or I can make suggestions as to how they can make things better for themselves and their students. And yet I cannot physically make it happen in my own classroom.  At least not yet.

Monday was a glimpse of what had been in my previous years of teaching.  I had student charts filled out at the end of class and kids lined up in time for their teachers.  I had enough time to switch out my Quaver plans and set up other instruments and materials.  I could tie shoes and teach the lesson without blinking an eye. By Wednesday I was lucky if I could find time for a bathroom break and one time I had a class waiting for me when I returned.  I literally broke a sweat with those kinders trying to get them to play a couple of games and play new instruments.  It was exhausting.  I went home and crashed on the couch.  I’m so grateful for the other half of my job, sitting in that cubicle, planning visits to those teachers….

Maybe it’s a good thing to experience this as the real world, slap in the face experience rather than a theoretical one.  The theories are good as long as they can be executed with real kids, which are of course, the unknown factor here.  It causes me to pause and think that if I’M having issues, a brand new teacher may be really discouraged. Giving them unattainable goals (at least for now) is certainly not going to help in the retention department.  It is developing a type of empathy that I don’t think I had before and maybe it will help me find new ways to help my colleagues and keep me humble enough to ask for help when I need it.

So, I’ll get back into the classroom next week and keep working on those techniques and theories that I know so well and maybe I’ll get back to my real groove around Thanksgiving.  Just in time for the holidays.  Whose idea was this?

The blue dots on their hands had escaped my notice until the 1^st graders were standing in line to leave and one of the girls thrust her hand to my nose and demanded, “smell this!”.  As with anything a kinder or 1^stgrader does, immediately six or seven other little hands were pushing towards my nose demanding “smell this!”.  Being slightly afraid of all the dirty little hands (you know they are), I backed up a bit and responded “hmmm, smells good!”.  I hope they did.  It didn’t smell bad, but I didn’t really get close enough to get more than a faint whiff of something slightly fruity, which I guess is good.

But those aren’t the only smells wafting around my classroom.  At the other end of the spectrum (no pun intended), I can always tell when some 5^th grade boy decides to be free and let loose when I observe all the heads that begin to disappear within their t-shirts in the hopes of avoiding the not so fragrant odor. All the uncontrollable giggles follow soon thereafter.  Sometimes there is a look of pride coming from the offending person, sometimes they try to look away as if to say, “no, it wasn’t me!”.  In the meantime, every girl in the vicinity has rolled their eyes, made faces that say, “oh no you didn’t” and begin scooting away from the direction of the societal infraction.  

Once and I can forgive – after all, accidents happen.  But when it happens a couple more times, we have the talk I had with my sons when they were at that stage.  For heaven’s sake, please don’t subject us all to that odor, just go to the restroom.  Of course, that would mean they would have to admit to it, and they’re not about to do that.  Oh the joys.

Sometimes they walk in and say, “I smell cookies or cake”.  That’s because I buy hand lotion that smells like that.  Makes them crazy because they want to know where the goodies are.  I’m not telling them.  There are so many things that distract kids through their senses.  In a room full of things they can touch and hear and vocalize with, why not add things you can smell and see?

Like last week, when I looked at the end of my line of students getting ready to leave my class and I saw and heard a little ruckus going on.  Questioning their choice of behavior, they all say at once, “Mrs. Bush, there’s a raccoon outside!”  I should have walked down there, to check out the excitement that is a raccoon out on a sunny afternoon in front of the school, but I kicked into teacher mode and asked them something like, can you be in control, or do I need to close the blinds?  “No, no!” and they immediately face forward.  I kicked myself later for kicking into teacher mode and forgetting how exciting it is to see a raccoon at school.  If it WAS a raccoon….

Then, with the sensory overload and bodily function noises and smells, come bodily fluids and other things.  Like the kid who decided to wipe his nose on a handout on purpose (I was actually glad when the other kids tattled on him) or the kids who get nosebleeds or pick their scabs, squeeze them like crazy and demand the band-aid.  I tell them to get a tissue and hold it on it until the bleeding stops.  Saves on band-aids.  Or the kids playing with the band-aids they already have to see the scraped-up knee, over and over again.  (It’s always knees).  I told them initially that no band-aids unless there’s blood or guts, so they’re producing blood to get them. Never challenge an elementary kid.

Despite the focus on bodily function and fluids, it’s part of what makes kids fun.  No, not the actual bodily functions and fluids, but the honesty of it all.  A kid, no matter where they’re from, is just a kid.   They’re excited about the mundane, fascinated with all things gross and socially unacceptable, sometimes getting their little hands right in your face to share and experience it all with them.  It’s also why not everyone is suited to teach elementary school.

I find myself on a lazy Sunday afternoon, sitting with a friend in the same adirondack chairs I sat in this time last year, watching the fish jump out of the water, eagles soaring through the sky, and yet another log floating back and forth in the calm waters next to the boat.  Just about a year ago at this time, I sat alone, attempting, in my own words to “find myself”.  Watching a log drift around and around, going nowhere, exactly the way I was feeling, realizing that without a big “push” neither it nor I was going to make the needed change in our lives.

A year later, I’m enjoying time with my friend, laughing and relaxing, taking time to enjoy the flora and fauna.  This new log showing up has made me think about the difference between this year and last and what progress has been made in my journey.  I’ve re-read my blog entry “The Log”, curious to see if my thoughts then still make sense today.  

First of all, I was right in that there was not a life changing epiphany last year, but the rays of light and clarity have grown over this past year.  Working on not being so tied to my perceived expectations of others resulted in me resigning from a position that did not bring me joy.  The title, the work, the love for the organization and my own expectations for myself could not negate my lack of skills and ultimately my disinterest in learning some essential parts of the job in a way that could be a greater help to others.  At this stage in my life, I also needed something that filled my bucket, rather than drain it.

Secondly, I felt like I needed to focus more, to decide on something I needed or wanted, to get rid of the hummingbird mentality and stop flitting from one thing to another.  Today I’m not sure I agree with that, as after I resigned from that position, several other opportunities presented themselves to me, some familiar, some not so familiar but all that intrigue me and will bring new skills to my wheelhouse.  Perhaps trying to be like everyone else and not listening to my own heart is not the way to go, and being true to my hummingbird self is.  Searching for security by deciding to stick with the practical just because it’s practical can keep you from finding new adventures.  I have no doubt that fear was keeping me from taking the hard step and once I did, life began to improve.

My friend and I went for a drive this morning and I shared with her the park that made such an impact on me last year.  I didn’t share the details with her, but last year, everything I saw there took me to the edge and caused my tears to flow. This year the beauty of the flowers, the trees and the little chapel made me smile.  “As he thinketh in his heart, so is he”.  My heart, while not completely healed, is thinking a different way this year and I hope it shows. I wasn’t at all sure last year that anything had enough energy to push that floating log out of the placid water back into the current, but step by step and decision by decision, life is changing.

I haven’t found one particular mentor, but over the past year have made a conscious effort to learn from as many people as possible and try to look at life from different lenses.  My weekend with my friend has taught me to work harder to be grateful for the blessings I have, as I have many. It’s teaching me that I need to seek out friends that I’ve perhaps ignored over the past year or more and work on renewing or rebuilding relationships with them, to listen and learn more about them, to see things from different perspectives. It’s bit out of my comfort zone but I’ll try and if some of my extroverted friends would like to help out, it would be most appreciated : ).  

Why share this with you?  Because a year ago I was feeling pretty hopeless, certain I could never get myself out of the position/lifestyle I had gotten myself into, feeling completely trapped in my past decisions. Giving myself permission to walk away and take time for myself, as uncomfortable as it was, was the best first step I could have taken.  Learning to listen to my inner hummingbird and not being afraid to make necessary changes, while not easy, is the goal.  Perhaps I’m reading too much into all this, but it’s amazing what you can learn from a floating log.

At the end of the day tomorrow, I will have met all my kids.  My school kids, not MY kids.  They understand that.  Today I taught five grade levels, assisted in the Student Support Center, helped supervise lunch for 2^ndand 3^rd grade, had lunch, did a little planning and attended a meeting at the end of the day.  I fell asleep in my chair after dinner.  It’s only Tuesday.  Oh, and I really enjoyed myself today and so far, all I’ve taught are procedures.  Don’t laugh – I’m serious.

One of our wonderful custodians walked in my room to take care of my trash cans and asked how my day was.  I said, 2 down, 187 to go.  He groaned and said he didn’t need to hear that. Not that I’m counting.  It’s obviously easier to count from the beginning.  I lose track if you ask me in the middle of the year.  Except for when we celebrate the 100^th day of school, which isn’t really the middle, but you get my drift.  I usually start counting about 30 days from the end because that’s when I’m feeling I really need that summer break.  Not that I didn’t work some this past break, but it is a break from the usual routine.  The nice thing about my schedule this year is that not only do I have 3 days at school and then 3 days at the office, but my 3 days at school are completely different.  My plan time falls at different times each day, so things are never the same.  The hummingbird in me likes that.

So far what I’ve discovered about these kids is that they’re just kids.  The names are different – in some cases VERY different as we have a large ELL population, but otherwise they’re the same as any child I’ve ever taught.  The same excitement, hopes and fears, likes and dislikes, gifts and talents as any other kid. To my delight, the majority of my students have been kind, extremely polite and well behaved.  I’ve been teaching long enough that I know this is the honeymoon period, but I’m highly encouraged.  These students are surrounded by caring adults who want only the best for them.  These are my kind of people.

Truthfully, the procedure thing gets a little old by the third day.  While the classroom teacher tends to have just their students to introduce the procedures to and then practice, I teach the same procedures (with some modifications for grade levels) about 15 times without additional practice.  So far, they’ve been terribly impressed with the picture I have with Mr. Quaver and that this is my 32^nd year of teaching.  The Kinders, who of course are experiencing school for the first time are little whack-a-moles, so tactile in wanting to learn about the room and all its treasures, the exact opposite of what I’m trying to teach in the procedures.  As I was talking to my colleagues today, Kindergarten is that grade level where we have to figure out if they’re just really young or if they just don’t get it.  Or a little of both.  For those of you who have young children (“why?”, “can I touch that?”, “can I tell you about my dog?”, “I have two sisters!”), multiply that by 20.  No wonder I’m tired.  Thank goodness I only have them for 50 minutes.  Kindergarten teachers are a combination of saint and superhero.

I’m already getting high fives, fist bumps and hugs, especially from the younger kids, with the occasional “Hi Mrs. Bush” from down the hall.  The older students are still checking me out, especially the 5^th graders who are already thinking they’re all that.  5^th graders tend to do that because, after all, they’re almost in middle school!  As mentioned in a previous blog, I’m the person who has taken over for the teacher they’ve had since Kindergarten.  They’re not going to accept me after one day.  I would expect nothing less.

There have been some incidents and mistakes in the past two days.  I left my room to use the restroom and check my mailbox, thinking I had a break.  I was wrong.  Someone had to get me to let me know that 4^thgraders were sitting in my room.  Oops.  One of my younger students decided to try and eat my hourglass timer today.  It has been sanitized. One student decided to just walk out my door to use the bathroom without telling me.  Thank goodness for the para.  A young man in 1^st grade, after hearing a song I wanted them to sing, shared out loud, “please don’t ever play that song again”.  So, I played it again.  They will learn who is in charge in my classroom. That’s the 31 years talking.

The last time I taught children in a classroom was March 13, 2020.  882 days ago, if my math is correct.  I’m looking at what I do through fresh eyes and It makes 187 days seem like nothing.  Looking forward to day 3 tomorrow!

The young girl began walking across the yard from the car, carrying a bag of potatoes almost half her size.  Wearing a summer dress and sandals, she must have hit a little hole in the yard which caused her to trip and fall, dropping the bag.  I stopped on the sidewalk beside her and asked if she was ok, but almost before it was out of my mouth, the girl said “I’m fine”.  She picked up the bag and continued into the house.  I barely noticed the little boy following her from the car until he looked up with a big smile and said “Hi Mrs. Bush!”.  I stopped and looked at him, not remembering his name but remembering his face from the school open house the night before.  “Hi!  Are you excited about school next week?”.  “Yes!” he said with an even bigger smile.  “Well, I’ll see you then!”.  I’m not sure who felt better about the encounter, me or my new student.

The open house was a ball, little ones coming to the music room as part of a scavenger hunt, checking out the instruments, sometimes running over to touch them.  Sometimes I took the nervous ones to check out all the cool stuff in my cabinets, listening for that little excited intake of breath, my job to get them excited about coming to class next week.  A week full of never ending meetings all made worth it by seeing the excited five year old faces.  Older students walked in, checking out the changes that had been made, some of them bewildered, some of them not sure, checking me out as well and obviously wondering if I would be as good as their previous teacher.  Replacing a beloved teacher is tough – I know that.  I would have felt the same way if one of my favorite teachers left and some old lady replaced them.  I will remember that and hope they give me a chance. 

It seems there are a lot of people discouraged about education today.  This isn’t limited to those outside of education, some within the profession are discouraged as well.  We’re trying to take an idea from the industrial revolution and adapt it to today without making too many big changes that would disturb the status quo. Change is hard, but forgive me, that’s a half assed way to do things.  It’s like so many things we do today – what is the cheapest, least intrusive way to make a little change instead of starting from scratch and doing things right? There are all kinds of stakeholders who want a say as to what and how students learn, from parents to educators to higher education, corporate America and politicians.  What and how, but never WHY.  Those who know me are probably doing the big sigh right now, but the WHY is always the most important.  Why kids should learn and how I get them excited about learning.  You see, if I get them excited about learning, the goal is to get to the point where they don’t need me in order to learn.  Their curiosity and thirst for learning will help them to be more independent, a better person and more productive citizen.

I had many teachers who got me excited about learning over the years, and a dad who was always excited to learn himself.  He would wake me at 2:00 a.m. to check out meteor showers when I was a kid, take me for a walk in the deep snow just for the adventure of it, share books of history and science where we would discuss the “what ifs”.  To this day, there are many times I see or hear something that makes me “wonder why” and I have to figure it out. Independent learning is what allows us to change and grow for the rest of our lives. Retaining something just long enough to pass a test is not going to help us with problem solving in the future. This is not learning.

So, my job this year is to make sure my kids not only learn the curriculum they need to know, but to get them so excited about it that they want to learn even more on their own.  My job is to teach them procedures like respecting people and materials to the point it becomes habit in their daily lives.  My job is to teach them how to collaborate with one another, to critique work in a way that encourages others to go farther. My job is to expose them to music of all kinds from many different places so they know that everyone shares the love of music in their own way and that’s ok. My job is to connect my subject matter to others so they see the world as connected. All this begins with building relationships with students like the little guy who said hi to me yesterday, get him excited about learning and showing him ways to becoming all he can be. 

Next week is going to be full of brand new students saying “hi Mrs. Bush!”.  I can’t wait.

I’m in trouble.  Over the past couple of years, I have lost 40 pounds.  Before you congratulate me, you should know that I GAINED those 40 pounds while teaching and traveling over a period of years.  I was such a regular at my local Amigos (where they served Winchell’s Donuts), that the wonderful manager knew me by name and had my order bagged before I walked in the door.  They were gone by the time I got to school or soon thereafter and if (heaven forbid), there happened to be donuts at school, I would say, “it’s only one more”, and have that one more.  

I worked late enough most afternoons/evenings that I would just grab something fast food on the way home, especially if Doug had an evening rehearsal.  After all, it’s a pain to cook for just one person and I was all about instant gratification.  Traveling to conferences and meetings was wonderful, especially the food.  We joked about each of us getting different desserts so we could split and share them.  There’s nothing like all you can eat bacon at the breakfast buffet.  So, the weight piled on, the clothes got tighter and the energy waned.  I couldn’t sit on the floor with the kids anymore, mainly because I had trouble getting up, and I could no longer dance and sing at the same time.  Food was my kryptonite and my panacea and I just couldn’t say no or stay away.  Then, the pandemic.

We had to eat at home.  Doug did all the grocery shopping. We didn’t do drive thru for quite a while and even when we did, it was only once in a while.  No more donuts at school because I wasn’t in school. No more traveling to conferences and eating from expansive buffets.  And just as slowly as the weight piled on, it began to disappear.  It’s not where I would ultimately like it to be, but let’s just say I had no choice but to go clothes shopping because nothing stayed up.  It’s a good problem to have.  I changed jobs, and some of my stressors went away, so stress eating started to go away.  Water and juices became a part of my day, balancing the daily intake of Diet Coke.  Ok, I may never balance the intake of Diet Coke, but I’m trying to have more variety in my life. The energy was back, I stopped getting sick and I stopped huffing and puffing when I walked somewhere.  Today however, I felt myself go backward….

I started off well.  Breakfast at home and off to work.  A few hours into the morning, and my wonderful boss walks by my desk says the word:  Donuts.  He had extra from a meeting.  I had resisted yesterday, well, more like I didn’t have time yesterday, and I said to myself, nope, I don’t need this.  Until I walked by the box and the chocolate frosted donut looked right at me and said, “you know you want to”.  I did, so, I did.  But that was it.  No more.  I grabbed lunch through a drive thru (going from one job to another), ate it at my desk, and about 12:45, the voice of my new principal comes on the intercom and says, join us for an ice cream social at the rec center.  I was going to resist, I really was, until a small group of new colleagues stopped by my door and asked, “Judy – do you want to join us?”.  How could I say no?  After all, we were going to have to walk a block to get to the rec center and a block back.  I would get my steps in.  A half hour and a bowlful of cookies and cream with chocolate sauce later, I walked back to my room and went back to work.

Fast forward through a work day, an open house and joining a zoom meeting late at school, it was 7:30 before I went through drive-thru #2 for the day to pick up dinner.  Have we talked French fries?  Having worked an extra long day, I sat with my feet up, with another Diet Coke (I lost count) and thought, I need a goodie.  Ooo, I have Oreos! So, yes, I had a donut with ice cream and an Oreo chaser.  

I know what it takes to lose the weight and when the opportunities were taken away to grab junk anytime I wanted it, it happened.  Going back to “normal” presents all kinds of trouble for me.  I know school communities speak love through food, something I appreciate as a Southerner, but I really like the new smaller clothing I’ve gotten to buy.  I like being able to sit on the floor again AND be able to get up.  I like being able to climb a flight or two of stairs and not have to stop halfway to breathe.  But is it enough to stop the temptation to drop everything to walk a block for ice cream with my colleagues?  

I’m in trouble my friends.  Pray for me.

Tomorrow begins year 32. This will be my 10th school in those 32 years, two high schools (disasters), three K-8 parochial schools and five K-5 elementary schools. Yes, I’ve taught K-12, but my favorite is elementary. A week from tomorrow, I’ll meet a completely new batch of kids which is both exciting and nerve wracking. The consequences of being a hummingbird I’m afraid, flitting from job to job because I always want to try something new and see what it’s like.

This year presents one particular challenge in that I’ll be teaching half time AND working at the district office the other half. Three days on and three days off. Needless to say EVERYthing will be written on multiple calendars. That also means three days with kids and three days with adults, a balance I’ve not ever had before. This could be very interesting. Not that I don’t love kids, but if you’ve taught before, you know taking a break once in a while is a good thing. For me, it will be a regular thing.

So I traded a brand new classroom big enough to land a plane in for a square room with high ceilings built sometime in the 1960’s. The great thing is this new room has windows where my last room was the only room in the building that didn’t. It makes a difference. I have strategically placed my desk next to the window for the morning light and will soon have plants on the windowsill.

Why the change? Well, you never know what life is going to throw at you. First there was this pandemic, which somehow led to a brand new job at the board office while I was playing executive director (another disaster). The great thing about getting older is that you begin to realize life is too short to hang out doing something you either hate or have no skills for, so I ditched the airplane hangar and the executive director gig and have chosen to hang out with some new kids again. You see, kids can be a lot of work, but I expect them to be a lot of work. They can also be a LOT of fun. I’m looking forward to the fun.

The thing I’m not always great with is meeting new people. Adult type people. I can work with kids all day, but ice breakers and meetings all day with adults are not always easy, especially when they’re new. Seriously, just throw me in a room with 20 Kindergarteners and I’ll have them eating out of my hand in 5 minutes. I’m grateful that over the last decade or so, I’ve had to travel, meet new people and step out of my comfort zone many times, so there are strategies now to having conversations with people I’ve never met. Still not my favorite, but I can manage now. And I have a girl space at home where I can hide at the end of the day to re-energize for the next day. I can do this.

The questions always remain, however. Can I just walk into a room and teach anyone? Will my new staff like me? Will the community like what I do with and for the kids? I’m not looking for reassurance here, but there’s always that fear that sometime, someone is going to figure out I have no idea what I’m doing. I think they call that imposter syndrome. Probably not a real syndrome, but people have to label everything nowadays. Compound this feeling with the fact that I’ve had the opportunity to walk into many classrooms over the last couple of years and seen teachers doing some amazing things. Things that I don’t do in my classroom. Things that I could LEARN to do in my classroom, if it fits my personality. Maybe you CAN teach an old dog new tricks. (Am I supposed to be the dog in this scenario?). Or maybe as my friend Tom told me, I’m modeling life-long learning. Sounds better than the old dog thing.

Tomorrow steps over the line of doing this teaching thing slightly more than half my life. At some point, I should have some mastery, right? In my observations by administrators, they say we want to pursue the Distinguished category of the rubric, but nobody ever lives there. Maybe that eliminates some of the pressure I place on myself. And in the years to come, perhaps during one of those observations, someone will kindly tell me when it’s time for me to flit to the next adventure.