Throwing Things

This week was full of sparks and triggers. I have second graders. If I could cover a canvas with colors for them, I would paint the background black, dab globs of orange mixed with a red and blow strands of that bright color all over the place with a straw so that it would look like stars.

The sparks: A boy who usually doesn't write, began to write. Actually, they are all writing more and I love it. I think I've removed what Krashen calls a "filter" that inhibits the acquisition of language.

The triggers: The angry girl in class threw a pencil at me but missed. Students ridiculing one another. Blatant rudeness.

My grandma explained it to me: of course kids are naughty, they wouldn't be kids if they weren't. As a child, I was a nightmare at home. I can relate to my students. I've been defiant, rude. I've yelled the worst things to my family. I've lied, disobeyed and there were times I challenged my ladies just for the sake of spiting them. And then I'd apologize and they'd continue loving me all the same. And they didn't deal with me perfectly, but I loved them all the same too.

My goal for next week is to be more empathetic and be more responsive to their needs and mine. To stand in their shoes and see where they're coming from and show them how they can get to where they want to go.