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The 100th Day, A Day to Reflect

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Goalposts. They’re everywhere. Lines painted on turf, items crossed off a to do list.

They’re the physical and metaphorical end zones guiding us in the direction of goals.

In sports, the goalposts are clearly defined, outlined in brightly colored paint. Athletes make their way down the field in bursts of energy, progressing towards the goal line. Sometimes they cross the line, sometimes their progress is deterred. All the while, time is ticking away and every moment counts. Because the game has a finite amount of minutes. There is little time to celebrate when players cross the goal line, score points for their team. Taking time to celebrate during the game is not an option. Game time is too precious, the stakes too high.

In so many of our real lives we, too set goals and get to work making our way down the field, mindful not to run down the clock. We achieve one goal and quickly set another, keep moving forward towards the next goalpost. Over and over again we repeat this process. Set goal. Work towards goal. Achieve goal. Repeat.

This week while so many are focused on football’s Super Bowl, I’m preparing for the primary grade big event, the 100thday of school. In the primary grades, the 100thday is a. Big. Deal. It is a major goalpost.

100 means so much to small children. It represents an understanding of math concepts. 100 equals 100 ones, 10 tens and 1 100! 100 days is also a big deal because it signifies such a huge chunk of time passed in the eyes of a young child.

Historically, the 100thday has been a fun-filled day in my classroom, centered around the theme of the number 100. My students complete a number of 100 themed math and writing activities. Laughter fills the classroom as children ponder what life will be like in their far, far away future.

Year after year as the 100thday came to a close, I struggled with remaining present. Rather than basking in the joy of the day, I couldn’t help but think about the looming June goal post. After 100th day, time seems to magically speed up, the remaining days pass at an accelerated pace. Rather than marvel at all the good learning that had occurred, I thought about all that still  remained to be done!

This year I’m choosing to view the 100thday through a different lens. This 100thday, my students and I will take time to reflect and we will celebrate. Because they have invested a lot of effort into their learning. They’ve done hard work, pushed through challenges, made great progress.

And what a powerful lesson for all of us; parents, educators, children. To take time to reflect on our efforts, make note of progress we’ve made, and be proud of how far we’ve come.

There will always be goalposts. And time will always be precious. But there’s always enough time for acknowledging, appreciating and celebrating where we are now.

©Kathie Z.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Progress

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My word of the year is PROGRESS. Photo by @alizilahy

For the past few years rather than craft New Year’s resolutions, my sister and I have chosen theme words. Inspired by the Rubin sisters, Gretchen the O.G. happiness expert and her younger sister Elizabeth, my sister and I have chosen our words and shared them with one another. The word is meant to serve multiple purposes: inspire, encourage and motivate. And in our case, provide accountability.

Most years, I choose a word hastily. There are so many words and in the panic of the January 1 deadline, I choose a good enough word, then forget it or replace it before January is even done.

On Christmas, my sister asked me if I had given my word for 2019 any thought. “Nope,” I said. She was excited. She had chosen hers. She was already practicing utilizing hers. My closest accountability partner, I knew she’d be checking up on me, encouraging me to make 2019 the year. So, I started thinking about the year and the different things I want to accomplish personally and professionally.

I had a week’s notice. And then our mother got sick. My siblings and I turned our focus to our mother. Standing in the coffee line in the hospital lobby café on New Year’s Day, my sister asked, “So what’s your word?”

“Dunno,” I said.

As the days passed, our mother was getting better. Bit by bit. She was making progress.

And then it hit me. Progress. That is my word of this year.

Embracing progress as my word of the year is a huge deal. It’s an acknowledgement of small, incremental forward movement. It is honoring the process, rather than putting all of the value on the finished product. Progress encourages acknowledgement which encourages perseverance which ultimately leads to accomplishment.

Which is what we primary educators do every day. We note the progress our students make daily. It’s why we collect work samples, portfolio assess. Then we provide verbal feedback, tailor instruction and encourage our students to keep going. Remind them, “you’ve got this.” Progress is at the root of the growth model we primary teachers know so well.

And when our students look at the work they did at the onset of the year and compare it to the work they are currently doing? Well, the joy in the room is contagious, the energy electric. Because our students are proud of how far they’ve come.

But we adults who tended towards perfectionism fail to recognize the progress we make in teeny, tiny incremental steps. Instead, we put an inflated value on the end product; dishonoring the effort, failure, and learning we’ve experienced. How ridiculous is that?

So I encourage you to choose your word for the year. And while you’re at it, encourage your kids to choose one, too.

©Kathie Z.

The Power to Choose Our Feelings

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A few years back, I heard this quote, “Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt, I thought, wow. That’s some powerful stuff. You go, Eleanor. I loved the idea of holding one’s own space. I was at a point in my life where I’d become comfortable with my adult self and I found this quote inspiring.

But lately, this quote has been bothering me. As a mother and educator of small children, I’ve been thinking, now wait a minute, Eleanor. Were you suggesting what I think you were? That each of us is solely responsible for our self-esteem? Maybe grown people, adults. What about the children?

I knew Eleanor was an advocate for children. Perhaps, I thought, I’d been reading the quote wrong, attributing meaning where there was none. So, I did what I so often do when something bugs me, I go in search of information. Which means I did a quick Google search. And I found a story tied to this quote on the website, quoteinvestigator.

Mrs. Roosevelt’s original quote, it seems, had been part of a longer response to a reporter’s question about a situation where snub may or may not have occurred to a government official. When Mrs. Roosevelt was asked to weigh in on the situation, she (in my opinion) answered quite diplomatically. First, she said (and I’m paraphrasing) the snub had to have been made intentionally in order for it to have even been perceived as a snub. Mrs. Roosevelt went on to say that when we, the ones on the receiving end of a confusing, possibly offensive interaction are feeling unsure of ourselves, it is easy to feel insulted, marginalized.

In essence, she was saying we have the power to let a comment or action grow, become “a thing,” which can make us feel poorly about ourselves. But when we feel confident, know where we stand, we can laugh at remarks, brush off slights, render them powerless. A few years later, the website said, her remarks were shortened in a Reader’s Digest story, distilled into the famous quote that’s been bugging me so much lately. Hmm.

After mulling it over, I think Eleanor demonstrated kindness and empowerment. How can we ever know the intent of another without asking? But so often we jump to conclusions. Create narratives to explain our feelings away. And in the process, we choose to give our power away, we choose to feel offended.

Going further, I think what Eleanor was essentially saying was that sometimes people do or say things intentionally that make us feel bad. Other times, though, the things people say or do that make us feel crummy are completely unintended. Thoughtless comments, brain-cramps, social whoops.

And it’s up to us, completely in our control, to determine the motivation of the other. Choose how we’re going to respond. Or not respond. We can deem the other person offensive and reestablish a boundary line, disengage or we can recognize their misstep as nothing more than a mistake, choose to meet them with compassion.  It’s completely up to us. We can choose to be offended or just to let it go. Wowsa. That’s some serious empowerment! And such a great lesson to teach our kids.

Because think about it; when our kids hurt, we feel their pain just as acutely, sometimes even more. The birthday party our child wasn’t invited to, the recess when there was “nobody” to play with, the playdate our child heard happened without them. All of these things happen. None of them are pleasant. But we adults have the choice to interpret as the incident as a slight or a non-event. And teach our children that they, too, have the power to reflect, feel and choose to feel good about themselves anyway.

In the age of technology and social media, where every moment is shared, it’s so incredibly easy to feel snubbed, question ourselves. And when the icky feelings get stirred up, we need to remind our kids and ourselves of Eleanor’s impactful words. Remember each of us has the power to choose how to feel.

©Kathie Z.

 

 

The Importance of Teaching Boundary Building

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Boundaries. They’re essential to living a happy life, one in which we feel safe; physically and emotionally. We all build them. Eventually. After lots and lots of practice.

The clearly defined, non-negotiable set of rights and wrongs: work hard, tell the truth, don’t take what’s not yours, use your manners were handed to me by my parents and their friends. This set of acceptable and unacceptable behaviors were communicated well, passed to me and my peers as a set of expectations, a code of conduct.

Although we were taught to play fair, do what’s right, I don’t ever recall being taught explicitly how to either define my personal boundaries or protect them. That’s why it takes so many of us years, decades even to define our own boundary lines, protect them when others trespass.

I find it odd that the boundaries around time, space, and self-image are mentioned, hinted at, but not explicitly taught to children as self-care. I believe boundary setting is essential for all of our children and it can be taught like brushing teeth, tying shoes, and reading; bit by bit with lots of opportunities for practice provided.

So how can we do this? Well, in primary classes, we teach children to define their space bubbles and stay in them. Some of us, myself most certainly, need larger space bubbles. But defining our space bubbles, our safe amount of personal space isn’t enough. Our children need to be taught how to verbalize in an assertive, respectful way when others get too close, make them feel uncomfortable. A strategy I utilize is one I was taught decades ago during a conflict-resolution training; the I Statement. I Statements are easy for little kids and they work wonders. They empower the child delivering the message to use their voice, claiming their boundaries while maintaining the dignity of the child who has over-stepped. The structure of an I Statement is as follows: (child’s name) I feel when you (state the action) and I’d like you to (name a replacement behavior). Kinda easy, right? And incredibly empowering.

We parents can help our kids build their confidence to speak up when we reinforce this strategy at home. It separates the behavior from the person, minimizing shouting and shame while reminding our children that mistakes are expected and accepted. And although consequences will likely be given, forgiveness will be, too. Self-images are protected.

But sometimes things happen, things we have no control over and boundaries are crossed without permission, our kids are hurt by others. Their hurt becomes our hurt. And as hard as it is, we need to remember it is our job as parents to lead by example: encourage our children to use their voices, share their experience with us while we listen calmly, non-judgmentally. Console with love and acknowledge the bravery exhibited to speak rather than remaining silent. And then we help jumpstart the healing process by guiding our children to reestablish their boundaries and strengthen them.

We need to model boundary setting, too. Engage in the essential self-care of setting limits, maintaining them, especially when doing so feels “selfish.” Because our kids are watching, listening. Learning.

©Kathie Z.

 

September, the Other January?

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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.

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