SLICE #9: The Rooney Run

For almost three years now, I have been raising Rooney, a yellow lab who is ultimately destined to be a mobility or autism dog for Canine Partners of the Rockies. He was supposed to be placed in service about sixth months ago, but COVID has slowed down the process, and Rooney is still with me. Two days a week he goes to advanced training, where he works with the CAPR trainers, but the other three, he comes to school with me. My sixth graders adore him and ask first thing every morning if this is a "Rooney Day." The school psychologist uses him as a therapy dog, when someone needs a little extra TLC.  Teachers regularly stop by to visit or bring him treats and toys. He is a very-loved member of our school community.

Rooney's favorite guy in the whole world his Uncle Craig, the technology teacher, whose room is at the end of the hall, about five rooms down from me. Rooney loves, loves, loves Uncle Craig. The two of them play pretty much every day. Rooney knows where Uncle Craig keeps his supply of milk bones. If I don't keep my door closed, Rooney takes off to go visit Uncle Craig. 

And every morning about 9:45, when we have specials, Rooney does the doggie dash. He forgets all his training, and all his manners. I stand at my room, and Craig stands at his. The fifth and sixth graders stand against the walls. Rooney stands, muscles tensed, waiting for me to release him. When I give the signal, he takes off at full speed, in his own doggie version of the 50-yard dash. When he gets to Craig, he slides to a stop, occasionally sliding past Craig, as 75 sixth graders and random adults cheer him on. He then trots into his classroom, tail wagging, and sits in front of the milk bone cabinet. One of my sixth graders heads down the hall with the leash and brings him back to our classroom. 

Most of the time, Rooney is a really good dog. But then there is the doggie dash...

SLICE #8: I meant to get my reports written....

 

I am a literacy coach at a K-8 school. As such, I spend a lot of time in classrooms, which I love. I am really good about visiting their classrooms often. I am really good about jumping in and co-teaching or modeling or cleaning up or stapling or whatever they need. I am really good about sending teachers encouraging emails about the great things I saw in their classrooms. One thing I am really NOT good about doing is filling out the endless reports that my district seems to require. No matter how hard I try, I seem to always be more than a little behind. 

This week, we started the third trimester of the school year. And I told myself, after a grueling week of trying to catch up, that I was absolutely going to keep on my observations and reports. And so this afternoon, I went into kindergarten, with absolutely great intentions. 

Only it didn't go so well. 

First there was the pencil incident. I usually sit in approximately the same place in the classroom, next to a little guy who is a selective mute. We are great friends, and we communicate well, but I have never actually heard him say a word. Not one. Until today that is. 

We were sitting on the rug, doing a writing activity. He had a pencil in his hand. And then another little friend came up, insisting that he had her pencil. NO! He declared loudly. And I was more than surprised to hear words come out of his mouth. Usually it's just gestures. I decided I had better help resolve the issue. 

I guess it's entirely possible that he did have her pencil. They were both yellow #2 pencils, with no distinguishing features. They even both had erasers. She was insistent though, that he had hers. It turns out hers was longer, by at least half an inch. And, according to her, it had more words inside of it. I am not one to argue with the logic of a five-year-old, so I found another long pencil, put the shorter pencil in the can, and went back to my observation. 

But then there was the hair-cutting incident. Just after I had resolved the pencil problem, another little girl came up to me. One of her table mates was cutting hair. "His hair?" I asked. "Or yours?" 

"No his, it's black," said my little tow-headed friend. 

And sure enough, when I went to the table, there was someone with a big hunk of hair in his hand. And it was black. 

"Are you cutting your hair?" I asked, pretty sure, given the chunk of hair in his hand and the chunk that appearing missing from his bangs, that he had in fact, been cutting hair. 

I hadn't even quite resolved that one when the next excitement came up. 

One of the little girls rushed up behind me. "Dr. Carol, you have to come. C. had an accident. In the bathroom." I rush across the room thinking there might be blood, but there was no blood. Just a big puddle. C had wet her pants.  I got her dried off as best as I could and took her to the office. On the way down there, almost a city block away, I got the scoop. This was her second time wetting her pants. It kind of feels funny to walk in wet pants. Did I think the office would have any dry shoes in her size?

And so, I really meant to do my observation, but kindergarten life just kind of got in the way. 

SLICE #7- A Hamster Wheel Kind of Day

 Today was a hamster wheel kind of day. You know one of those days where you go and go and go and go and go and go and go and never quite get anywhere? This morning I got up and I read some essays I was too tired to finish last night and I took my son to work and I drove to work on really icy roads and I taught and I went to a meeting that was cancelled and I taught some more and I ate an orange and I went to a meeting that wasn't cancelled and I worked with a teacher and then she had to go to a meeting that she forgot about and I answered a bunch of those 'miss there are two days left in the trimester and what can I do to raise my grade' and I taught a parent how to shelve books in the library and I came home and dropped Rooney off and fed the dogs and changed into jeans and I went to King Soopers to buy a cake for a friend's fiftieth birthday tomorrow and I went to Bible Study and now I'm home trying to get my slice published before 10:00 when slicing closes and then I will do Duolingo so I don't break my 75 day streak and then I will try to do a little school work and then I will go to bed so I can get up in five hours and do it all again. Definitely a hamster wheel kind of day. 

Slice #6- When Your School Doesn't Have a Librarian (A Photo Essay)

I spent a good part of today (which happens to my birthday) working in our school library. Our school (and probably 90% of the libraries in our district) doesn't have a school librarian. We have managed to keep the library open, but just barely. I go in a couple of weekends every month. One of our teacher's sons, who is working on his GED, helps a little bit every day. Teachers do a lot of their own check out. Some of our teachers, and some of our kids, also try to help.  It's definitely not an optimal situation. 

When you don't have a school librarian, there are piles everywhere. 

When you don't have a school librarian, books only kind of get put away. (These are graphic novels that were checked in and put back in the right general area, but were never actually re-shelved). 

When you don't have a school librarian, kids don't put books back on the shelves correctly.  

Or take care of books very well.

When you don't have a  school librarian, people leave junk laying around. 

Maybe most importantly, when you don't have a school librarian, beautiful books don't get displayed and advertised. One of the things I did today was put books out across the top of all of the shelves. I do that every time I go into the library.

We haven't had a school librarian for ten years. 

We haven't had a library para for the past two, and aren't slated to have one next year. 

When you don't have a school librarian, kids suffer...

SLICE #5: I really miss my mom...

 

I'm going to the theater tonight. 

Hamilton.

Need I say more?

Actually I do want to say a little more. 

I'm going to the theater tonight.

It's the first time I have gone since COVID.

Even more than that, 

it's the first time I have gone since my mom died in December.

My mom, who was 87, loved the theater. 

For many years, she and I bought season tickets. 

About once every six weeks, I would drive to Colorado Springs and pick her up.

We'd come back to Denver, 

have lunch at a little restaurant close to the theater, 

go to the show,

and then drive back to Colorado Springs. 

Or sometimes we'd go to the theater at night. 

Those times I would drive down and get her,

we'd check into a hotel (my house has too many stairs),

go to dinner, and go to the theater,  

spend the night in Denver, 

eat breakfast the next morning,

and head back to Colorado Springs. 

The trips were pretty exhausting. 

getting the wheelchair in and out of the car a zillion times, 

pushing her through the parking garage, 

in and out of crowded elevators,

and helping her transfer to regular chairs in restaurants and at the theater,

(she never wanted anyone to think she needed a wheelchair)

but I loved, loved, loved 

going to the theater with my mom

and now she's gone.

Tonight, I'm going to the theater by myself.

I'm looking forward to seeing Hamilton again

(my mom and I saw it four or five years ago)

but I think it's going to be a little hard.

I really miss my mom...

SLICE #4: JUST ANOTHER ORDINARY DAY IN SIXTH GRADE?

11:48

Two minutes until class is over. 

About ten sixth graders

cluster around the back table, 

working on an evidence paragraph.

We finish up and I send them back to their seats 

to pack up for lunch.

And then it happens.

Four or five military planes

 zoom over the school.

In formation.

A flyover.

This is not uncommon. 

I live near an airfield.

Planes fly over our school 

pretty regularly

They are always loud.

But today 

the noise feels deafening.

For a minute 

minor hysteria ensues.

Furniture tips over.

Kids dive under their desks.

There are screams. 

Comments about World War Three.

I restore order.

Turn furniture upright.

Remind kids that 

We hear flyovers

pretty regularly.

Tell my twelve-year-olds

that we are fine.

Dismiss for lunch.

M 

Class jokester

Fashion statement

In one white croc

And one black Nike

lingers 

uncharacteristically. 

Miss, he says.

I don't like those.

With everything 

that's happening

They scare me.

I think World War Three

Is coming. 

Honestly 

I don't know what to say. 

They scare me too. 

And like M

I wonder 

If World War Three

Is coming.

I give him a hug.

Rub his back. 

Because that is all

I know to do. 

DAY #3- A Bold Political Statement

 

I teach at a ECE-8 school. 

The seventh and eighth graders take care of the bulletin boards in the hall. 

The boards often have a holiday-ish theme, so I wasn't surprised when this one appeared about ten days ago.

Presidents' Day.

Forty-six Presidents' faces printed in ornate Baroque frames. 

Carefully cut out, around a million tiny curves. 

And stapled to the board. 

A little crooked, ok actually a lot crooked. 

But the effort was definitely there. 

The pictures had been there for a few days, when I happened to be standing in that hall waiting for my students to get out of specials. 

And I noticed that there was a hole in the bottom row. 

One of the presidents was missing.

Perhaps you can guess which one. 

The next day, there wasn't a hole.

Presidents Obama and Biden had been pushed together. 

Making the row appear complete.

But the next day, another hole in the bottom row.

And so it goes, every few days. 

One day the row appears complete.

But if you look closely, 

you know who won't be there. 

The next the hole is back;

I have never actually seen anyone moving the pictures.

But I can't help but wonder who is making such a bold political statement.