Hmmm. Everybody say it with me, “Easier said than done.”

Let me explain my work environment:

My district serves a small student population. It is so small that we do not receive funding to hire a teacher for every grade level. Rather, we have three multi-grade classrooms to serve grades K–8 and the general education teachers must figure out a way to teach the state standards to three or four different grade levels at the same time. Don’t forget your classroom dynamic being affected by the maturity disparity you might imagine between, say, your most immature third grader and most mature fifth grader, being taught in the same classroom. Multi-grade classrooms, in and of themselves, necessitate differentiation within the classroom for academic, social, emotional, and behavioral reasons, based on standards-based and age-based needs. Add to this differentiation the typical learning discrepancies between language learners, students with special needs, and students of varying levels of performance, and you will wind up with a classroom of students differing in age from 1–4 years who need 20 different forms of differentiation. Do you recall me mentioning that we’re rural? This means that we have a limited amount of community resource and our students come to us with a limited amount of life experience.

Is this tough? Yes. Impossible? It feels that way sometimes. But every day, my colleagues and I go in and work together as a team and somehow get it done. Some of us show up early every day, some of us stay late every day, and all of us take work home and come in on our days off. Also, once a week, someone brings in homemade snacks at lunchtime. J

This is all to say that I do not know what I would do without my team, nor do I know what they would do without me. We are a team, and only together can we help our students. It is ironic to me how often I meet other educators and learn about inner turmoil at work between general education and special education, or even between colleagues in the same department. Sure, my workplace has its share of minor complaints and times when someone says something that someone takes the wrong way and whatnot, but overall, we help each other out as needed, share ideas and advice, and above all, we have each others’ backs – and offer mutual respect. Without this, we’d be lost.

While the “I” in IEP may represent the needs of the individual, it is only through the work of a unified team that an individual’s needs will be met – yet there is no “I” in TEAM. Oh, the irony.

Don we now our blank stare faces,
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Troll this song my mind it chases,
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

What is that you ask? Those are the lyrics floating through my head all the days long as my students and I endure second trimester benchmark testing. And it really must be testing season if more than one of us are blogging about it.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not even all that against standardized testing. I think there is a lot value in these tests especially for many of my students who float back and forth between general education and my self-contained room. I firmly believe that another set of data points (despite the fact that representation of ability level is arguable) is always a good thing. More than their actual scores, I strive to look at their growth because moving on up, well, that’s all I ask.

To sum it up, this whole process was relatively painless for my first graders. My district is moving toward completely computerized benchmarks using NWEA. As students answer each question, the test responds to the student and adjusts the level of difficulty dynamically. However, the process was not completely painless for me because watching my students take the test and getting questions wrong that I knew they could do was pretty painful if you ask me.

My fifth grader didn’t have to take NWEA, but did have to sit through the district’s paper pencil benchmarks. This process was excruciatingly painful for the both of us, but he tried on most of it, so what more can I ask?

My third grader, on the other hand, had it the worst. He had to take NWEA and the paper pencil benchmarks. Poor kid. Poor proctor. Each of my students has accommodations to take standardized tests individually with a familiar proctor, which means I sit there with them the entire time no matter how long it takes and I’ve since realized that I’m just about the worst proctor on Earth. It takes everything I’ve got to stop myself from helping them, especially when my third grader says, “Let’s read together!” in the middle of his reading test entirely not understanding what a test is and looks up at me with big fawn eyes. Poor kid. Poor proctor. But these tests are the reality we’re faced with, and so it goes …

See the endless tests before us,
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Strike the wrongs and join my chorus,
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

Bubble answers, high-five smile,
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Sing this song just one more trial,
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

During the luncheon, I was awarded with one of the four mini-grants they give out each year. I am so thrilled that my proposal “Changing Perspectives: Not Disabilities, but Our Abilities” was selected! I am going to use the grant money to purchase novel sets and publishing materials for my classroom. The novels I have selected all have characters with disabilities. My students and I will read these books, and then my students will get to write their own stories, and publish their own “books.” It is my hopes that my students will be able to share their struggles and successes as a student with a disability.

The Keynote speaker, Dr. Diana Rogers-Adkinson, the president for the International Council for Children with Behavior Disorders spoke on “Teaching in Troubled Times.” She spoke about political and social issues surrounding how educators are currently perceived. She also discussed the current stressors and strategies for responding in this tough political climate. I can honestly say that hearing her speak and having so many great conversations with the attendees of the conference really sparked something in me.

I have been feeling so frustrated lately with how I am being treated as a teacher. I feel like my hands are tied so much of the time. I am a third year teacher without tenure and I do fear that speaking up could get me into a lot of trouble. I try my best to share what really happens as a teacher to as many people as will listen. My dentist was recently shocked to find out that I purchase winter coats for my students who can’t afford them. He said that he realized that teachers buy pencils and notebooks for their students, but never imagined that teachers are out there buying coats so their students will be warm during the winter.

So what are my next steps? I am going to keep on talking to everyone that I can. I’m going to keep reading great blogs. I’m going to attend as many conferences as I can. I’m going to have great conversations on Twitter. I’m going to keep spreading the truth about what teachers are actually experiencing knowing little by little things will start to change. I may only be one person, but I know that I can make a difference as long as I’m not afraid to get out there and try.

When he was absent on Monday, I called home to make sure he was OK. When his mom reported that he would be back the next day, all was well. A few hours later, she sent me an e-mail saying he will be out for the week, with no explanation. I assumed he was sick and went to the doctor. The next day I get a note from our lead counselor telling me to pack his things and post his grades as he has been withdrawn on behalf of the Georgia Department of Juvenile Justice. That day after work, I got a call from his mother letting me know that he may be out longer than a week, but was not sure how long. During our conversation I discovered that she was unaware that he had been withdrawn from school and the emotional saga that ensued was heartbreaking. I have talked to her every day this week to provide a shoulder to lean on. I feel as though even though he is not technically my student, he is still my student.

I went to visit him on Saturday and was met with walls and walls of fencing, razor wire, guards, and an eerie vibe of fear and submissiveness. It took three trips to my car before I was allowed into the first gate to gain access to the front door of the lobby. Everything from my cell phone to my chap stick had to be left in my car. I was only allowed to bring in my wallet (no cash) and my car keys. I was immediately nervous and felt as though I was the one that was in trouble. As I nervously approached the front window to consent for a search, I was watched by every other adult in the waiting room. I was quickly told that only immediate family is allowed to visit inmates and that I could write a letter or call him on Monday. 

I left feeling more worried about my student than before I came. I left wondering if he knew I was concerned about him, if he felt alone, and did he think I turned my back on him? David has a disorder which causes him to not trust others and I am one of the chosen few that he trusts. I worry this experience will cost our trust. On a brighter note, he is expected to be released in about a month and I am already developing a support plan for him upon his return. 

Have you ever had a student that has served time in a youth detention facility? How would you have reacted in this situation?

One of Andreas’ prints is called Deep Roots. The story says this: When I die, she said, I’m coming back as a tree with deep roots and I’ll wave my leaves at the children every morning on their way to school and whisper tree songs at night in their dreams. Trees with deep roots know about the things children need.

Last weekend, I went to Arizona State University’s 42nd Annual Language and Literacy Conference. I had reservations about going because while it sounded interesting, I wasn’t sure how applicable the ideas would be to my classroom, I had to pay for the conference out of pocket, and it was on a Friday night! Leaving the conference, I was blown away.

The theme for the conference was 21st Century Literacies: Honoring What We Know, Envisioning Where We Can Go. The visual they chose was a picture of an enormous tree with deep roots. The keynote speakers went on to explain how the roots represent what we know and our roots need to be deep. As schools, we need to be secure in our vision and mission. We need to have high standards and a deep understanding of our community and students.

The rest of the tree is all the places our students are headed. Yet, even if a tree has high branches and lofty goals, if it does not develop deep roots, a wind of new standards and a breeze of new research will topple it.

This got me thinking about my own beliefs about teaching. The keynote speakers talked about how a school should represent a healthy, deeply rooted tree, and I completely agree. However, I feel as educators, we also need to consider Andreas’ Deep Roots and think about the fact that each of us should also be a tree with deep roots, who knows about the things children need. This certainly doesn’t mean we’re so set in our ways that we can’t adapt, but it does mean we have a foundation to support where we and our students are headed.

While my students are only in elementary school, the decisions I make on a daily basis affect their lives in ways I can never imagine. And I wonder if sometimes I get so caught up in them learning dialogue conventions, multiplication facts, and certain phonograms that I’m missing the big picture. Where do I, where does the school, where do their parents, where do my students envision themselves going? How deep, in fact, are their roots?

As you can tell, this conference has got my brain going a hundred miles an hour and I hope you’ll take some time to consider these same questions and even share what you come up with!