My new showring

For the second year in a row, I missed it. The Nebraska State Fair came and went, while I stayed in South Carolina surviving in 90 degree heat that was reminiscent of those hot days at the end of a halter. Sitting here in my classroom, I realized that I didn't have to feel homesick for the showring at all, my classroom is a lot like it.


1. The day starts early. Although I don't roll into school at 5:00 am like we did on show days, I do still get up at 6, like I did on school days during my show career. Instead of doing chores, I am off to clean chalkboards, sort papers, and straighten desks before those kids come in the door.




2. Stains don't matter. Every show girl knows that a stained shirt is never an embarrassment, but a badge of honor. The same goes for a teacher. Though black paint has been replaced by black pen, I still come home and find strange marks from a hard day's work. Just like show shirts stain fighter only works about 60% of the time.




3. How you (or they) enter makes a big difference. I remember my older brother giving me this advice about showing pigs: How you enter the showring matters. If you don't do it right, it will be the last time the judge ever looks at you. How my kids come into the classroom often determines how the day goes. If they come in rowdy, I know I'm going to spend a lot of effort getting them focused. That's why my bell ringer includes directions to "Work Silently."




4. Use your "look". Sometimes the difference between the showmanship buckle and just another ribbon is your "look" in the showring. Every showman uses some kind of inner mantra to get that right air of confidence and intensity. These days that look isn't sent towards the judge, but rather directed at distracted students who need a little reminder to get back on task.




5. It's really just organized chaos. In the showring you are watching a million things at once: The judge, your heifer, where you are going, the other showman, and the ring man. In my classroom it's about 2 million things: My clipboard, each student (doubling back for the ones who need checked twice), where I'm going, my lesson on the board, and the window at my door. Thank goodness I learned to answer questions while keeping control of a calf!




6. Tired feet are meant to be ignored. It doesn't matter how many times you've walked around the showring or across the fair in a day, when you have work to do...you do it. As a teacher, I've found Sperry's to be just as effective as they were at the fair, though it's worth the investment to buy a separate pair for the classroom, and leave the barn ones at home.




7. Know what's at stake. At the end of a day that didn't go my way in the ring, my mother would always say, "It's just one man's opinion on one day." The results in the ring were not how I determined my own worth. That's different from teaching. What's at stake isn't an award or some recognition, but rather the future. My passion for teaching grew from "A faith born not of words, but of deeds, achievements won by the present and past generations." I teach not for myself, but because I need the assurance that the future will be strong. Each day in the classroom is an investment in the most precious commodity...people.

'till the cows come home,
Ellie

Expectations

Today was the 3rd day of state testing, which meant it was the third day in a row I heard this phrase uttered in class:

"We already finished the reading PASS (state test), so why are we doing work."

Oh if I had a dollar for each groan I heard from students, who walked into my classroom when they saw my smart board, not turned to a movie, but to a bell ringer assignment, I would be a 3 day millionaire. Of course that's an exaggeration, but that is what it felt like.

The first day I heard their groans I was so frustrated. I wondered where they got the idea that my class would just end after they had taken the test. I very firmly explained that during the next 4 weeks I would be taking grades and that those grades would go on report cards. It felt like a battle with my students, one I didn't have enough coffee to fight.

Then I realized that this was based on expectations. Perhaps a teacher or parent in the past had put so much emphasis on the state test, that the students missed the point of the classroom. So today I backtracked over the notes about the parts of poetry and instead shared this poignant piece by Malcolm London.


I then did the dreaded English teacher "what does he really mean" conversation. I could see my students sit up. Here was a guy being honest about school, and their teacher was standing at the front of the room talking about how bubble answers aren't the most important thing. Why? Suddenly they forgot that they were mad that a movie wasn't being shown and were diving into their own poems centered around two small words...I Am.

This past week has been one of the hardest for me, but it wasn't just a lesson my students learned. As one student told a young man who had been absent..."It's not worth complaining, I guess we are still gonna work in her class." That's a lesson that holds true for me too, I've gotta do the work at the front of my classroom too. I can't just sit back and coast through these last weeks. I care too much for those young faces to let them down.

'till the cows come home,
Ellie

If Only

"'If only, if only,' the woodpecker sighs,

'The bark on the tree was as soft as the skies.'

While the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely,

Crying to the moo-oo-oon,

'If only, If only.'"

From the book Holes by Louis Sachar

I've been feeling a lot like the woodpecker recently.  If only I had more copies available, fewer students in my class, or my students didn't have to take 2 state tests in my subject area. It wasn't until this weekend that I realized how dangerous the "If only"'s are. 

If I focus only on the things I wish would change, but can't I'm not only wasting my energy, but committing a terrible sin. God hates complaining, just ask the Israelites who wasted 40 years in the desert grumbling. It's arrogance and mistrust of God. Whenever I complain I'm telling him that I know better than him. I'm saying that my comfort and happiness should be his first priority.

It also hurts my kids. Energy wasted on wishful thinking could be better spent preparing lessons and finding patience in my classroom. If I'm negative, they become negative, and my classroom becomes a den of grumbling. Learning can't happen there. 

The work I do is not easy, but no one, especially the Lord ever said it would be. I have so many blessings and positive things happen throughout each day, that I can't spend my days sighing. So here's to giving up if only, and taking action where I can instead.

'till the cows come home,

Ellie

A student hard at work on her persuasive essay. I'm so proud of my kids and their ability to argue. :)

It's Mom's Fault

If I had a dollar for every time this year a guy friend teased me for saying Louisa May Alcott was my favorite author I'd have exactly $4.

Unfortunately that windfall of cash is only hypothetical, but Ms. Alcott's characters hold a very dear place in my heart. Particularly the middle daughter with a man's name.

Yup, I loved the movie/tv versions too

I think I was in middle school when I saw my first traditional Disney Princess film.  Mulan, Maid Marian, Nala, and Pocahontas were the Disney ladies of my childhood, but they were not the characters I deeply aspired to be. My games of pretend were more literarily dominated. Laura Ingalls Wilder and Jo March were my heroines. I spent hours in a bonnet and skirt (made by Mom) pretending to roam the prairies of Kansas or the forests of New England. I adopted their methods of speech and am still the brunt of family jokes for my "Ma and Pa" and "Mother and Father" phases. My mom cracks up even today as she remembers the formality of her little girl asking, "Is Father home yet?"

Both of the ladies of my literary aspirations had close families that included more than one sister, but that was not what drew me to them. I have always been content with the selfishness and rough merriment that my place as the only girl provides. If it wasn't a sister, then what was it?

Adventure. My heart longed for their adventures. To take on a variety of challenges and live a life that was more than being rescued by a prince and living "happily ever after." Not that I didn't have the romantic ideals of falling in love, but saw didn't see it as the ending to a great story. In the stories I held dear, love was just another part of the plot.

After seeing the movie I was a little bit "Team Teddy."
Just look at Christian Bale.

Now as an adult I wonder if my mother did that on purpose. If she nudged me in the direction of ladies whose stories were not passive but active pursuits because that is what she wanted for me. I'll have to ask her when I get the chance, but my suspicions are that it was a deliberate choice she made.

Now she has to face a slightly painful reality. It turns out, if you push your daughter to admire women of adventure she will go off on one of her own. She will see injustice and do her small part to help fix it. She will follow God's call even if it takes her away from you.

Thank you mom. Thank you for sharing rich stories with me, and for showing me that strong women should never be ashamed of who they are. Jo March may have sold her hair, lived with an unbearable aunt, and written a novel, but her fictional accomplishments have nothing on your real-life passion and strength.

'till the cows come home,
Ellie

Laughing In Class

October, yes I'm sure it was October.

That's the last time I remember laughing in class with my students without fear. Since that time laughter has scared me. It was the first terrifying step of seeing my classroom management spiral out of control. So I left laughter behind.

November and December were tough months for me in the classroom. I began to feel so much pressure to conform my teaching style to match other teachers. I felt inadequate when I saw my student scores and felt so much negativity from my students in class. I wasn't myself. I was angry and short-tempered, I was melancholy and had even begun to expect the worst from my kids. For example, my mentor encouraged me to use learning stations in my classroom to help my students review for a test. Almost instantly, I mentally shot down the idea because I knew "my kids couldn't handle" moving in class. Thankfully, 4 of my 5 classes proved me wrong, but I still didn't like the negative yelling person I had become.

Over break I did a lot of soul searching and praying. What a big surprise, the same weaknesses I had in the classroom this summer had manifested themselves in the fall. I was standing at the front of my classroom as a phony and my students could see it. I'm a bounce around the classroom, stand on chairs, and make stupid faces kind of teacher. I was trying too hard to be no-nonsense and no noise.

Armed with a new plan (involving a character trait of the week) and refreshed from break I began to tackle a new year. Today I laughed freely with my students. We were sharing our fears, and the more ridiculous answers involved a round of raucous laughter. After a few seconds I shot out my teacher stare, and that was all I had to do. We were back on task and ready to learn. It's amazing how my students respond respectfully when I am genuine with them.

So here's to a new year full of laughter. Silent classrooms are overrated.

'till the cows come home,
Ellie