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September, the Other January?

September 10, 2018 By Kathie Z

Everywhere I’ve looked in the past week or so, I seem to encounter this idea: September, the other January. A time to reset, start anew. Do better, be better. The second “New Year.”

This concept is not new for those of us who teach. September literally is the beginning of a new year. And each brand-new year is full of endless possibilities. It’s a time to refine what’s worked in our practice and try something new to replace the things that haven’t. September is our annual do-over. That’s why September is so great. For us.

In spite of our excitement, we know September and all of its unknowns can be a tricky, stressful, challenging time for our kids. And the gift of experience heightens our awareness for spotting worry and unease which we work to minimize with a treasure trove of get-to-know-you and community building activities. During September, we take our time settling in, establishing routines to foster an environment of encouragement and student success.

One of the ways we build our students’ confidence is by building a classroom community through whole group activities that allow us to become a “we.” Tour any elementary school in September and you’re likely to see different examples of students’ hopes and wishes displayed, my classroom included. Each September as I open another school new year with a new group of students, I read Happy School Year! by Susan Milord aloud. In the book, every student in the school makes a wish for a happy school year. Just like last year and the year before and the year before that, I invite my students to make a wish for the new school year. My students think about the things they want to learn, skills they want to develop, friendships they hope to make. After making a wish, students write their wishes for a great year on paper cupcake cut outs that they decorate with crayon. By putting pencil to paper, my students make their wishes for a happy year real, their goals visible.

For years, I’ve embraced the idea of September being the marker of a new year, a time when anything is possible, a month of optimism. Then I thought of my daughter who had recently graduated from college. And the rest of the “big kids” who had not landed where they wanted to be yet. September is here anyway. And for the first time in nearly two decades, they are no longer part of a school community, following academic calendars, working towards graduation requirements. They’ve crossed the goal line. Sort of.

This made me think of the flip side of the September coin. Where I find September rejuvenating, a return to structure, routine, my calling; there are scores of young people feeling the opposite. The infinite possibilities of “the rest of your life” can be mind-boggling and the prospect of finding work that both sustains and fulfills overwhelming. Statistics tell us that it takes college graduates on average three to six months post-graduation to find work in their chosen fields. That means that scores of young people are currently unemployed or underemployed. It’s no wonder these kids find themselves feeling untethered; like balloons whose strings have been let go, floating to places unknown.

And then it occurred to me. Why is it that we encourage our younger students to reflect each September on the things that would make them happy in the coming months? Then help them to set personal goals, which we help them to attain? But we discontinue this practice once our kids grow older, become “big”? What if we parents and mentors asked these big kids to take a moment, reflect on what they hope to accomplish in the coming months? Visualize, articulate the things that would make them happy in the next year? Guide them in the direction of following their dreams, remind them that we struggled, too, many years ago? What if rather than the month to figure out the rest of their lives, September became the month of hopes and dreams, the month to make wishes and devise plans? A time to take a breath and figure things out. For now.

Then September could be the start of a happy new year.

©Kathie Z.

Parting Words

September 3, 2018 By Kathie Z

I stood at the dismissal door waving, a smile on my face. “Have a great weekend! See you Tuesday!” I was exhausted, yet exhilarated. Like always, the first few days had flown by and life had shifted into high gear. I knew my students were tired, too. Because the first few days of school are hard. Adjusting to a new grade, new expectations, and a new teacher takes a lot of energy. As I sent my students home for the long weekend, I wanted my them to leave feeling happy, cared for, excited for what’s yet to come. And I wanted them to know they would be welcomed enthusiastically when they returned.

Educators and parents alike know how important the start of each new school year is. The first few days are critical. We have a few days to get things right, set the stage for what’s to come. That’s why huge chunks of time are dedicated to creating a classroom community and establishing routines. Routines, we know, not only maximize student learning, but they promote feelings of safety and security as our students learn what to expect at various times, while learning what is expected of them.

In and out of the classroom I embrace routine. Because there are so many “have tos” and “want tos” in life but a finite number of hours. Established routines help us use the precious commodity time efficiently, allocate minutes and hours, use them mindfully. And one of the most precious of minutes in our school day, in my opinion, is dismissal.

As adults, we’re all familiar with the phrase, “famous last words.” Many of us can quote final lines from favorite movies and books. Likewise, lots of us can conjure memories of parting words from people who mattered; a special neighbor, a dear school friend, a family member who really understood us, a parent. Their words left an imprint. Most of us can name a teacher who made a lasting impression on us too, because of something they said in parting.

When my girls were little, there never seemed to be enough time. Our morning routine followed Swiss clock precision. The moment the alarm clock buzzed Monday through Friday, each minute was accounted for. My kids quickly learned that there was no “being late to school,” no dawdling. Each morning as I headed out the door, I called, “Be good today. Learn lots. I love you.” On good mornings, when all ran smoothly, my goodbye was sing-songy. On bumpy mornings…not so much. The words blended into one. Regardless the delivery, I wanted my girls to hear the same message: have fun, make friends, be happy, be curious, engaged, ask questions, persevere when things get hard and remember, you are loved.

Day after day, my children heard the same thing. Three simple phrases, intentionally crafted and communicated. Be good. Do good. Love you. It was our goodbye ritual. Which I believe set them up for a great day.

When they left for college, my girls each established a phone routine with my husband and me. We could look forward to Friday night phone calls from our younger daughter, Saturday morning from our elder. They filled us in on highlights from their weeks, successes and struggles. As each conversation came to a close, I made sure to end with an encouraging word, an acknowledgement of effort, an I love you. With my children hours away, I rediscovered the incredible power of our parting words.

This made me rethink classroom dismissal. Dismissal was my least favorite time of the day. It was often rushed, hectic. But understanding the power of parting words, I knew there was room for improvement in my dismissal process. Didn’t I want my students to leave feeling positive about the work they’d done? Acknowledged for the contributions they’d made? Excited to return? Of course, I did. So, I revised my farewell. “Good night. You did great work today. See you tomorrow.”

Like the ritual I’d established with my own two children, the good bye I said to each of my students at dismissal time carried meaning. I wished them fun, happiness, had noticed their efforts and let them know I was looking forward to seeing them again the next day. Simple phrases that packed a lot of meaning. And for the kids who had a not-so-great day? Well, I’ve adapted a favorite line from one of my favorite picture books, Lily’s Purple Plastic Purse, by Kevin Henkes. “I know today was difficult. Tomorrow will be better.” I love these words because of their directness; reassurance that mistakes are expected and accepted, the promise of a brand new day to try again.

I realized that it took seconds to wish every child a good night, provide personalized encouragement, share a smile as they filed past. The parting words let my students know that I’d noticed, that they mattered. These positive feelings carry over into the next day and the day after that, creating an environment of trust and risk-taking. What a gift.

©Kathie Z.

Change Happens

August 26, 2018 By Kathie Z

Fear has a place in our lives. It can tell us to pause, take a moment to pay attention, assess the situation before acting. We may move forward cautiously or we may decide to jump. Fear can also stop us in our tracks, literally, render us incapable of moving forward. Keep us stuck in place, frozen in time. I’ve been dealing with this kind of fear for the past few days. From my dog.

This month Bailey turned eleven, which technically makes him a “senior” dog. Old. But he’s still so spunky, I’ve fully embraced the “age is just a number” philosophy with him. Until this week. When he’d grown fearful of the staircase. He’d lost his footing, stumbled a few times on the way down and was now unwilling to even try to take a step forward. Fear had defeated spunk.

So I did what any empty-nester, dog lover would do. I foolishly carried him down, stair by stair. Safely on solid ground, I became fearful. My mind was flooded with what-ifs. I Googled and read. And my worry grew. Of course. Then I called the vet (which I should have done in the first place) and made an appointment to have him seen.

As my husband and I sat in the veterinarian’s examination room waiting, Bailey snuggled close. It had been a year since he’d had that tumor removed. Worry filled the room. Bailey paced between us. I pet his face, told him he was handsome, moved my hand to his back, told him what a good boy he was. Then he wiggled close to my husband, slid his head under his arm; solicited pets, reassurance from him, too. In the few minutes we sat in the familiar examination room, I looked at Bailey with laser focus. Had I missed something? A small change that had become a big deal?

I realized my good boy had become an old man. I’d barely noticed. Sure, his chocolate brown fur was flecked with gray. And his walks had gradually decreased from three to two to a single mile, which freed up precious time. He’d been changing bit by bit, right in front of my eyes but it hadn’t registered. It seems I’d been experiencing what scientists call “change blindness.” It’s the phenomena people experience when they fail to notice a friend’s haircut or a rearranged piece of furniture. It’s linked to holding on to our mental images rather than noticing what’s in front of our eyes. Hmm.

That had definitely been the case with me. The past few years have been years of constant change for my husband and me. From job changes, to kids going off to college to losing loved ones-we’ve been in a state of flux. The dog, though, remained a constant. As did my perception, which was solid, so dependable I’d failed to notice the small, incremental changes.

After a very thorough examination, my vet determined that Bailey’s problem with the stairs was a learned behavior; a side-effect of aging. He’d lost his footing and had become afraid it would happen again. He needed some assistance to rebuild his confidence and we needed to make some accommodations to his environment to help him succeed. We took her suggestions and he’s navigating the stairs like a champ.

That got me thinking about the experience I’d had earlier this week while visiting my daughter who is about to start her junior year of college. Now living in an off-campus apartment with a group of friends, we made our way to campus. It was move in day for freshmen. My husband and I followed as our daughter led us confidently around campus. We noticed the worried looks of parents and incoming students as they pulled Space Bagged linens from SUVs and mini-vans, then making their way into the unknown of college. The three of us commented how happy we were to have that experience behind us.

In that moment, I remembered moving her into her first dorm room, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. I remembered watching her long, blond ponytail swing back and forth as she climbed the four flights of stairs, arms full. That image was quickly replaced with another. And another. How had the years passed so quickly? In my mind’s eye, I saw her on her first day of kindergarten; tiny hand on the rail, climbing the stairs of the bus, the Clifford the Big Red Dog backpack eclipsing her torso. In that moment, walking across campus, I saw my daughter as the beautiful, confident, young woman she is, even if in my mind’s eye, I often think of her as my little girl. And that’s o.k. because I’m her mother and she’ll always be my child.

As we’re heading into the new school year, it’s important to remind ourselves; whether we’re parents or educators, our children are growing, changing, whether we notice it or not. It’s happening. And change can feel uncomfortable, sometimes really icky. Change can be scary, throw us off balance, make us stumble or even fall. And that’s o.k. Because there is always a helper around to support us, offer a guiding hand to help us find our way to solid ground.

©Kathie Z.

The Encouragement’s on the Wall

August 15, 2018 By Kathie Z

Every profession has its jargon and my field, education, has lots. One term we teachers hear used a lot is “literacy-rich environment,” sometimes referred to as “text-rich environment.” Educators invest time and energy creating literacy-rich classroom environments to promote literacy, a cornerstone of academic success and life-long learning.

So, what exactly constitutes a literacy-rich environment, you may wonder? Well, according to the experts, a literacy-rich environment is a classroom that has lots and lots of things for kids to read-ranging from calendars and schedules to books and magazines, as well as instructional posters and teaching charts, to name a few. A literacy-rich environment includes a wide variety of writing materials, as well. “Writing materials” encompasses everything from the expected classroom writing tools, paper and pencil to markers, crayons, chalk, dry-erase boards and rubber stamps. There are so many ways we teachers can cultivate our spaces to inspire and support student literacy.

The other day I prepared my daughter’s bedroom for her weekend visit home. As I dusted and tidied, I looked at her space with a critical eye. Not very surprising, her room is a text-book example of an incredibly literacy-rich environment. We’d fostered a love of reading, writing and self-expression in our home, so it was no surprise to find she’d filled her space, made it engaging, inviting the visitor to “read the room.” On one wall there are shelves filled with novels and textbooks, on another a bulletin board with handwritten notes and acceptance letters, a poster sized map of New York City. Another wall in her room is a massive chalkboard filled with doodles and some of her favorite quotes collected from books and artists. Reading my daughter’s room made me smile, appreciating the gift of the person who curated this space. I realized this is the space of an engaged learner, but more importantly, it also the private space of an inspired, brave, feeling person. The items she’s collected and displayed provide her with artistic inspiration and encouragement to put herself and her work out in the greater world.

Then it hit me, her room is what I call an “encouragement-rich environment”! Curious, I decided to take an observation walk around the house. (This is a learning activity in which teachers lead students on a walk, typically around the school, encouraging them to look closely, notice things in their environment and make discoveries.) In a matter of minutes, I found my daughter’s room was not unique in being encouragement-rich. I found evidence of inspiring, “you can do its” in just about every space. Postcards with trust your gut sayings are pinned to the kitchen bulletin board. Mugs stored in the cabinet declare, “You are my Sunshine.” Our daughters’ original art hangs on the walls, beautifying the space while validating their life choices. In our office, a sign states that “Good things come to those who create.” In the living room, a book shelf is filled with novels by authors whose stories of perseverance while navigating the publication process serves as my personal motivator. Encouragement abounds in our house.

I thought about the choices I’d made when decorating our house to create an environment that was safe, but promoted creativity and risk taking. I thought of the pillow I’d bought encouraging my daughter to “believe in her dreams,” pursue a career in the arts, the coffee-table book of successful, contemporary female artists that both of my daughters received one Christmas.

After walking through our house, I realized it’s nearly impossible to escape encouraging words. And this makes me so happy. I thought about when my girls were little, when I told them to “use their words,” express themselves. I see that I had been doing just that, too. Using words. Not only to bolster my daughters’ literacy skills and promote a love of learning, but to encourage and lift them up.

©Kathie Z.

Oh, August

August 9, 2018 By Kathie Z

August, the third month of summer for most people, the last hurrah. But it you’re a teacher or school-aged kid, August is not only the last month of summer, it is the month that whizzes by at hyper-speed. Kids and teachers become acutely aware of the dwindling hours of daylight, signaling back to school time.

Speaking for teachers, August is like an alarm clock buzzing. It’s our pre-season. Because there’s always so much to do before the students return: setting up classrooms, organizing materials, planning lessons. And we have to be ready. That’s why we teachers seem to morph into meteorologists in August. We use the 10 day forecast to plan classroom days while trying to squeeze in one more outside in the sunshine day with friends and family. August is like a delicious meal to be savored, shared and appreciated.

For kids, though, August can trigger feelings of aw or ahhh! The aw group of kids, the Awgust kids, would be thrilled if the carefree days of summer went on forever. They’ve adapted to summer easily-embracing fun-filled, unstructured days that extend into night. Bedtimes and homework have been forgotten. August, though, can make even the most chill child moan, “aw!” All too soon, their days will once again become structured, follow a calendar. Their days will be separated into school days and weekends, where work time and play time are clearly defined. Speaking of work time, August is like an “ahem,” time to get going on that summer reading list.

Sometimes, though, students feel worried about a new school year starting. These kids can view the last month of summer vacation as Ahgust. In many districts, the month starts with class assignment letters sent home, making the idea of a new year real. A new year means starting over in a new classroom with a new teacher, new kids and a new set of expectations. There are more unknowns than knowns. Which can be downright scary.

After more than two decades of teaching and parenting, I have found specific worries to cause August angst for lots of kids. They are:

Dislike of change and the unknown.
Fear of being alone with no friends in class.
Worry that the new grade will be too hard.
Having set their heart set on a specific teacher, getting assigned to a different class.

Here are some simple, straight-forward strategies for helping your child to navigate the feelings of disappointment and worry for the new school year ahead (without solving the problem yourself).

Some children are lovers of routine and predictability. You can help your child process their unease about starting a new school year by inviting them to express their feelings aloud. If you can tap into memories of feeling the same way, great. If not, listen while your child talks. Sometimes children just need to get the feelings out to feel validated. This is a great time to model empathy.
Lots of kids fear being alone, friendless in the classroom. This is a common worry. All kids develop friendships in the classroom. Have your child recount the names of friends made in the past years. Ask them to tell the story of how they built those friendships. This is a great time to acknowledge the bravery they showed in putting themselves out there and express confidence in their ability to branch out again. Remind your child, there’s always recess to reconnect with friends from other classes.
For many kids, the struggle is real. Learning has been a challenge and your child’s confidence is not as strong as you’d like it to be. Help bolster your child’s confidence by making a list of all of the things they can do now that they couldn’t do at the beginning of the last school year. Be specific. Did your child learn to read? Learn a bunch of math facts? Accomplishments add up quickly when given time to reflect.
Class placements happen. Sometimes students are placed with the teacher they hoped to get, sometimes they aren’t. Know that class placements are not decided arbitrarily, there was a reason your child was placed in a specific class. If your child is bummed with the name on the letter sent home, take this as a wonderful invitation to discuss disappointment. Express excitement for the adventures that lie ahead. Remind your child that life is full of twists and turns and part of growing is navigating surprises. Growth happens when we step outside of our comfort zones and tackle the unknown.

Whether you have a few days or weeks until your child starts a new school year, enjoy each and every one.

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