24

Eleven p.m… This is about the same time I wrote last night.  Last night was an eon ago.  I was exhausted.  I was discouraged.  I was at an utter loss as how to create an insular haven of peaceful learning in my first grade classroom.  The Magic Tree House had lost some of its enchanted qualities.  It had become more like a knotty pine than a mighty oak full of mystical adventures.  I was utterly disheartened.

But not down for the count…

As both a teacher and a mother, my philosophy has always been to enable children to solve their own problems.  Sure, I could intervene and make their life (and mine) a bit easier.  But the next time they are faced with a dilemma, I will be looked to for salvation once again.  That cycle is endless.  Instead, my favorite phrase has become over the years, “How can YOU solve it?” 

I took my own medicine last night. 

OK, Mrs. Dahl.  You had a bad day.  So what?  How can you solve it?  How can you create an environment of student self-control and motivated learning?  C’mon, brain!  Fire up and start puking some workable ideas. 

It came in meekly and lay quietly in the corner of my cortex.  Its soft breath whispered to my weary soul…

“Win their hearts…”

Hence, the predawn baking session and planned afternoon party.  I had just placed the fresh-from-the-oven cupcakes on the cooling rack and had pulled the popper from the cupboard when I noticed the quizzical look on Mr. Dahl’s face.  In answer to his unspoken question I answered, “If I cannot win the heart of a child with popcorn, then nothing in this world makes sense anymore.”  He smiled and shook his head.  He knows me so well…

I was nervous about the day.  I’ll make no bones about that.  I always have oatmeal for breakfast (except on Saturday).  I had a dozen plates spinning in the air this morning.  I cooked my oatmeal as usual and clicked a couple of items off my to-do list.  I threw a load of darks into the washer, then sat at the island to eat my breakfast.  I took a couple of bites with my mind still riding the Teacups at Disney World.  I was into my third bite before it registered that my oatmeal was wholly unsatisfying.  I stared at my bowl.  What was it missing?  I stirred the milk a little hoping answers would float to the surface.  Oh yeah.  I looked up at the stove.  I had forgotten the oatmeal.  Wow, this was a really bad omen for the rest of the day.

Arriving at school I was off my game.  I could feel it.  I was the kid who had just fallen off their bike, the teenager who had just had his first car accident, the heartbroken young woman who was afraid to date again.  I had lost my edge.  What if they had so much fun yesterday creating mayhem that they decide to double the fun today?  Be positive, Mrs. Dahl!  Don’t think that way!  I wrote the following message on a class chalkboard, “It is going to be a good day!”  I wanted my students to be bombarded with positivity from the moment they entered my domain.  I wanted to be the one to set the tone.

Smile, Vonda… Fake joy… You can do this…

Fat rain drops were hitting the sole window in my classroom as the first students trickled in.  I greeted each one with the cheeriest good morning I could muster. Backpacks were hung in the stairwell/coatroom, notes from home delivered, and the infantile makings of a regular routine were making their appearances.  I exhaled, but just a little.

I was busy at my desk when I became aware of a small body on the other.  I looked up and saw one of yesterday’s players standing there shyly – an odd look on her face.  She stood there silently, smiling sweetly.  After a moment, she raised her hands, clutching a bunch of scarlet flowers.  “For you,” she said softly.  I melted.  Apology accepted and transgressions washed away.  I covered the distance between us in a step and gathered her tiny frame into my arms.  “They are beautiful,” I said fervently.  “Did you pick them from someone’s flower garden?”  “No, from a plant at home.”  Ahhh.  “Did you ask your mom or dad?”  I asked then wished I hadn’t.  “No.  But they never look.”  Nothing says, “I’m sorry” like contraband flowers, I guess.

I was just congratulating myself on the fresh, UP mood I felt permeating the atmosphere when the first little squall hit.  Mayday!  Then another.  And finally a third, and I knew my carefully constructed ship was sinking fast.  I stepped into the hallway and spotted the custodian.  “Will you watch my class for just a moment?”  I pleaded.  I took the stairs two at a time and literally ran into my principal (I must have been light-headed from lack of oatmeal).

He followed me to The Dungeon and quickly sized the situation.  What is it about a male presence that commands attention?  Doggonit, that bugs me.  He spoke briefly, but clearly and had the full attention of all children.  Then he sat (God bless him for that) and observed while I began my reading block.  A calm descended and lingered. 

He quietly got up near the end of “Henry and the Buccaneer Bunnies” and noiselessly slipped out.  I could not believe how easily the next hour went by.  Then into math and still peace prevailed.  We sailed through lunch and reading intervention time.  I stood in the hall and watched in joyous wonderment as they walked slowly and quietly to music.  Who were these angelic cherubs??   And just like that it was time for our celebration.  Par-TAY!!

I set out our feast and popped in Alvin and the Chipmunks.  The kids were perfect -- and hungry!  When it was over and nearly time to board the buses to go home, I sat them on the very rug I had commanded them to just a day before and opened the floor for discussion.  Which day had they like better, yesterday or today?  You already know the answer.  We were ALL smiling as they raced to the buses.

What had changed?  I have pondered that all evening.  I thought about it as we meandered around the plant nursery looking for colorful fall shrubbery.  My mind flitted to it occasionally during our steak dinner at the Peacock Alley.  And I tried to sort it out later as we inhaled a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Coffee Heathbar Crunch ice cream and watched Papillon with Steve McQueen and Dustin Hoffman. 

Here’s what I think:

I think I allowed myself to accept responsibility for a day of chaos.  In doing that, I placed the ball squarely back into my court.  The question then becomes, if it is my issue, how can I fix it?  Secondly, I reached out to the right people.  Wise counsel is essential to gaining some perspective back.  Third, I practiced a little flexibility in the schedule in order to proactively get my students’ attention.  I chose to focus on the broader picture vs. losing a full day of hammering away at instruction.  I was teaching alright, but I was also trying to build some bridges of trust that might come in good stead down the road. 

Having said all of that, I understand fully that Monday may be an entirely different beast.  I am mentally preparing myself for that.  I am hoping for marginal improvement.  That’s it.  Nothing earth shattering, just BETTER.  AND, I am hoping that God hurries up with that extra patience I have been asking for (“… like Monday or Tuesday would be awesome timing, God…”)

It is amazing the difference twenty-four hours can make, one day despondent and the next hopeful. 

Last night my husband of twenty-nine years took me out for dinner.  Our lone child at home yet, my precious Rosie, spent the night with her volleyball team, so it was just he and I.  I left school as quickly as I could extricate myself and turned my face eagerly to a night of relaxing and unwinding.  I needed it.  And he needed me to find my happy place again.

We decided to head to the plant nursery to stroll around and look for something to add to our yard.  As I wandered around in sublime enjoyment, reading tags and trying to visualize things in my own yard, a man strode in purposefully with a dolly and began loading potted shrubs.  He spoke with authority and I soon surmised him to be the owner. 

He quickly addressed us, “Were we being helped yet?”  He disappeared and sent an employee scuttling to us straight-away.  As we asked questions and discussed price, he wandered in and out of our orbit several times.  When we had made our choices and while John paid for our purchases, I found him once again with a hose near the main building busily watering the numerous plants and flowers that graced the stunning landscaping.  He pulled me into conversation easily and began to point out various flowering perennials and their needs.  “Aren’t they gorgeous?!” he would gush over each one.  “Here’s how I keep them looking so good…” I learned more about gardening in that ten-minute conversation than I had in years.  This man loved what he did and it showed in every word and movement. 

I had seen a faded newspaper clipping framed on the wall near the cashier’s station.  It showed a much younger version of this same man standing in a field of perennials that were growing like row crops.  I didn’t read the entire article, but I caught the date; 1960-something.  This man had been doing the same thing for decades and yet he appeared to love it as much as ever.  He had built a thriving, iconic business over many years.  Maybe it is because he is a very smart business man and maybe because he caught his niche market at just the right time.  I am sure all of that is true and that a good many things came together to bring about his success.  But I think it is more than that.  I think when you have passion for something, it is infectious to those around you, and on some level, it makes your own soul happy.

I want to be that kind of teacher.  I have nightmares of going stale as an educator.  Somebody please fire me if that day ever comes.  I cannot imagine hating what I do daily, or worse yet, feeling dead to it and simply ceasing to care. 

So here’s where you can help me, my Readers.  Please pray for me and my precious, priceless darlings often.  We need to walk out the door on the last day of school having learned the required, mandated things for first grade, yes indeed.  But we also need to learn some vital life skills.   

And I need wisdom.  I also need patience, a soft and gentle spirit, and I will need an Olympic swimming pool sized amount of perspective.  Feel free to shower me with great advice.  My students and I will get through this school year “by hook or by crook” as my Grandma Miller used to say (I was never quite sure what that meant, but it seems to flow here…).  I want to do more than survive.  I want so much more than that. 

Minutes before the last bell of the day rang, one of my girl students wrapped impossibly thin arms around my waist.  I smiled and gave her a quick squeeze.  She dropped those petite appendages and leaned against me, then sighed deeply.  “I’m happy,” she said dreamily.

THAT is what I want.  I want happy children.   

Dear Lord, make it so…