The unseen…

I’ve been pondering this thematic idea of the ‘unseen.’  Have you ever been to Disney World?  Disney lives and dies by creating an experience that will last a lifetime.  When you work for Disney, you are always ‘on a stage.’  Backstage is the areas of the parks that no guests see.  I only know this because my brother, Bill, worked for Disney for a summer.

As teachers, there are a lot of moving parts in our days.  There is a lot unseen by students, parents, and admin during a school year.  We must hide apart of ourselves and always be ‘on.’ Heaven forbid we become the emotional, complex beings that we are, and that our kids are.  What else is ‘unseen’ in education?  The extensive amounts of grading, lesson planning, professional development attending, and researching the most cutting edge innovation in education.  But, what is often hiding under the surface of every teacher I know is the fact that doing this job is far more physically, emotionally, and financially draining than anyone can guess at unless you are, in fact, a teacher.

It is a fact in this calling of ours that we will leave the building with a heavy heart sometimes; that is just the nature of it.   This is messy, human work, and it will never look like the perfect, color-coded spreadsheet of an accountant.  Do you know what else can be unseen: kids.  Think of your students; you spend most of your time engaging, and trying to reengage those ‘big’ personalities, but have you taken the time to see the unseen.  The quiet one, the one who might be humiliated if you call on her?  The one who you may forget in five years when you’ve had over 500 students since she sat in your class.

One of my most magical years as a teacher was when I got to loop with a special group of 7th graders into their 8th grade year.  I didn’t have to spend nine weeks training them or going over procedures, learning their names, or learning where each child was on the academic scale.  I knew them, so we got right to it.  My students made huge gains that year in writing, in grammar, in life lessons.  Last weekend, they graduated from high school c/o 2022!  They invited their old 8th grade English teacher, and I was there!  I knew they would be held in the gym or some other large area of the school before the pomp and circumstance began, so I came early, and made my way in there first.  As kid/young adult after young adult ran at me and burst into tears, I remembered my why.  Sometimes your why seems unseen many times.  One boy, who was quiet, who was studious, who I had for two years in a row, could not stop sobbing.  I promised him I hadn’t died; I was right here, and if he needed me, I would help!

They were the blessings to me, and as I drove away from graduation that night a little misty eyed, I remembered the life lessons they taught me.  Teachers, although you are on stage, and rarely let anyone backstage, and most times you feel unseen, frustrated, or sad, remember your huge impact on kids who you may never even realize until years later that you made a difference in their lives.

Still, lets listen to teachers.  Pass legislation that will help retain our teachers who are feeling unseen.  Give them wrap around services in their buildings.  We need trauma informed specialists, more counselors, psychiatrists, smaller class sizes, and better working conditions.  Our kids deserve it.  Our teachers deserve it.

Teach On, Warriors.  I’m rooting for you!

Katie

#katiekinderfromokc  #untoldteachingtruths  #oklaed #hallwayleadership #thespringshift

Little Bitty Kid; Great Big Body…

My son, Luke, is 13 years old.  He is in 7th grade, and he is learning to become a man, but still sometimes reverts back to the little, shy boy I remember from his bitty years.  He’s becoming tall and angular, and he works out, and he is proud of his new, teenage muscles.  He’s an athlete, and he loves soccer, basketball, and boxing on his new punching bag outside.  I can see the man he is becoming, and I’m proud of him.  But, he’s thirteen, prone to attacks on the frontal cortex that isn’t developed.  He is always telling me he knows all the things about every thing.  He swears he is mature beyond his years, but also loves batman with a ferocity of a five year old.  He is the age of my students.  Middle school at school and middle school at home is a new venture in my life.  The hormones, the body odor, there is no escaping it.

As we scurry through the mornings of a school day, Luke is the first one up after me.  Demands of breakfast, backpack, ‘don’t forget deodorant’ reminders fill the space.  Last week, I was eating a bowl of cereal, going through our morning routine, my mind on something.  His mind on the ferocious appetite and hunger that only comes from a little boy in full blown puberty.  Why can’t we keep these boys full?!  All of a sudden, I sucked a mini wheat into my lung pipe and started choking.  You’ve been there.  “This is it,” you think to yourself.  I was literally choking, tears streaming down my face, trying to get it out.  He is looking at me, pleading, “What am I supposed to do?”  After some heaving, I will spare you the details. I was finally breathing again.  In our family, we joke, a lot.  Maybe too much.  I looked at him and said, “I hope your Fortnite battle is going well.”  As he was still holding his phone whilst staring at me.  You know what he did next?  He started crying.

“Luke,” I comforted, “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” he pleaded.  “It’s not funny!”  The few times he allows me to hold onto him these days, I do.  I scratched his head while I comforted my little boy, and he let me.  Reminiscent of the toddler who used to crawl up into my lap.  So, my point is to all my educator friends is: whether they are 6 feet tall or 5’9, they are little bitty kids trapped in great big bodies trying to find their way.  To find belonging.  To find out who they are.

After a few days had passed, I looked at Luke and said, “Remember this 40 year old lady that almost choked to death?!”

“Still not funny,” he answered.

I was all, “When will it be funny?  What do you need?  A week?  A month?  Tell me!”

He said, “NEVER!”

God love him.  Don’t blink.  Soon I will be writing a blog about his High School Graduation, College, jobs, kids, you name it.  Love you, Lukey!

And if ANYONE shows him this blog, I will deny having written it.  #13yearsold

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