Learn.

I don't always get a chance to simmer in my own learning as a teacher.
Perhaps because the majority of our learning as adults is done OTF.

We learn about the human experience as we are experiencing it.
The best part of being a teacher is learning.

The best thing we can do as humans is to be open to new adventures.

---

I started this post around this time last year.
I don't know where I was going with it, exactly
What I thought about learning.
And wanted to share with you?

But it seemed to fit right here in April 2020.
The post right below this - is about taking a new job.
Leaving Newton.

It shouldn't shock ANYone from that post, that after a few months, it was time to come home to Newton School.

I learned A LOT while I was away and was BEYOND thrilled to return to my 2nd - now 3rd graders in January.

We learned a lot together for three months.
And then, on Friday, March 13th.
We said, "Goodbye," for the very last time.

I learned that learning online is a lot of work.
And it pulls at my heartstrings.
But I'm so grateful they are mine for the next few weeks.

---

I came home -to Newton - to be safe.
It's challenging to talk about learning about safety as an adult.
But in the setting of a school - I learned that safety - is something to regard highly.
I learned that sitting idly by watching prejudice, injustice, and inhumane treatment of students of color - is just - not my thing.

I remember one of the last "conversations" I had with an adult at my former school, "Let me say what you just said to me, back to you, you want these all to be different? But not MY kind of different."

"Yes," she nodded, "exactly."
I knew then, as she left my room, it was time to go.

Because I knew a place where MY kind of different WAS valued.
Accepted.
No - embraced.
It was night and day packing up my 5th-grade classroom and leaving.
And returning, in the dark to Newton.
Ms. Goodwin in comfy clothes, awaiting my arrival.
Welcoming me home.
Showing little concern for the amount of stuff being unloaded.

I learned in that moment - that my safety as an educator of color, and that of my students - is more important than a paycheck.

---

Virtually learning continues to broaden my horizons as an educator.
It is challenging in new ways.
Rewarding in new ways.
Painful in new ways.
There are parts of this time in our world that the inequity it stifling.
STIFLING.
In a way that I can't really articulate.
Inequity - not of technology - but of a poverty level most in our world can not comprehend.

I learned that we can ALL do hard things. We must continue to put our minds to work - together. We must continue to see our students, even if we can't see our students.

I also learned, something I already knew, is more true than every before.
Love.
Love is the answer.
I love my students more than I can articulate right now.
Old and New.
And I will be here - no matter what.

Saying Farewell, and Saying Hello.

I am the literal worst at saying goodbyes.
As in.
The worst.

Avoid it at all costs.
If I could go quietly into the setting afternoon sun.
And leave no footprint,
I would.

As a child of trauma, it's safer.
Goodbyes are scary.
Unknowns are scary.
As an adoptee, I spent my entire childhood trying to be "enough" so I'd never have to say goodbye again.

Saying goodbye is scary.
What will it mean?

Will there be a hello?

The last six years as a teacher at my little Disney World of Elementary Schools, Newton School, in Greenfield, MA, have truly been some of the greatest years of teaching - ever.

The.
Best.

When I interviewed with Ms. Goodwin - there was a feeling in the air.
Something Electric.

These were my kind of kids.
This was where I was meant to be.
And that feeling was how on October 28th, 2013, I started in a tiny room at the end of the hall.
Two classrooms later.
And so many life changes later.
I find I need to be closer to home.

I grew up in Westfield, and for the first few years, the hour commute was not a problem.

This past May, one of my crazy incredible Mamas was diagnosed with Breast Cancer.
A few days later my Matriarch Nana Ruth, celebrated her 97th birthday - still living on her own.

And the days of traveling over an hour to get there seemed to be leaving less and less time.
Of which there was less and less.

It became imperative to work and live closer to home.
And be available for dinner nights with Nan and appointments with Mama Lin.

When a position in my dream grade opened in West Springfield, I was reticent.
I wasn't sure it was for me.
Sure, the school building was familiar; my Mama Lin had been the secretary when the building held West Springfield's Middle School,
But.
To leave Newton.
I'd have to find something.
That gave me that Electric Feeling.

As I sat in the hallway before my interview.
A tardy Dad and kindergartener looking son took the corner.
He smiled wide, "Hola! Tu hablas espanol!?"
I smiled and explained, in my best broken Spanish, that I had been adopted, from Chile.
And my Spanish was Spanglish at best.

He was, in short, so excited.
"Please, stay here, I will be right back."

Of course, I couldn't, I hustled into the interview room packed with incredible women.
And had an Electric interview.
As I sat in my car later I thought back to the Dad, and his son.
These are my people...too.
I thought.
These are my people, too.

When the offer came through, I gave it a lot of thought.
My dear friend Ms. Warren told me to make a pros and cons list.

Family, I told her, will always trump the cons side.
And so, I accepted a position.
In fifth grade.
At the Coburn School.
In West Springfield.

I'm nervous.
And excited.
SO very excited.
And heartsick to say goodbye.
And grateful to say hello.

This sixth year at Newton has been THE ABSOLUTE BEST.
2nd grade is my jam.
These 19 kiddos have been the greatest.
We had SO MUCH FUN.
Learned a ton.
And they are SO READY to go hang with Mrs. Lagoy and Mr. Stone.
And I will miss them TERRIBLY.
But.
As I preach, so I practice:
Dream big.
Follow those dreams.
Look over the precipice.
Leap.
Make the jump.
Trust.
It's going to be great.

Back when I was in 2nd grade, Mrs. Jean Carrigan, may she be resting in peace, read aloud Miss Rumphius and I remember so deeply the words that were shared in the message of the book:

Now, I know I'm no Lupine Lady.
But.
I like to think the little pieces of me I'm leaving behind continue to make the world of Newton a little more beautiful:
A little lending library on the playground.
A blow-up movie screen for movie nights.
12 Chromebooks and a Chromebook cart.
A whiteboard.
A bulletin board.
Tables.
Stools.
Benches.
A day with Jaime from Cosmic Kids.
Sweatshirts.
T-shirts.
Books.
And so much love are all being left behind to be shared.
And used by my forever school family.

When I became a teacher, a school as incredible as Newton, was just a dream.
Six years later, I'm glad it continues to be a place of magic and a real hidden gem in the gorgeous town of Greenfield.

I'm thrilled to be returning to the Westfield Area, though not as a Bomber, but a Terrier. :) <3

#ISeeMe.

I posted this in September of 2018:

You'd think it's just a picture using the markers we received from Donorschoose.org for our thank you package.

You'd think that.
It's cute, right?
But.

It wrecked me today.
In the best way, a teacher can be wrecked.

Zoey is 7.
And drew this beautiful picture during free draw.

It's me.
It's her.
It's us.

And we're clearly LOVE-ing life.

It's her beautiful hair, and my straight, short new hairdo.

And it's two people of color.
One 7.
One 35.

I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.
I had to wait until I was 18.

To have a teacher, who looked like me, stand at the front of a lecture hall.

In third grade, I scrubbed my skin every night hoping I'd be just a little lighter.

I chopped off all my kinky hair hoping I'd somehow fit more.

I yearned to be seen.
By someone.
As worthy.
And yet no teacher could see through their whiteness and privilege long enough to see...

Me.

I often talk about that first day of Women's Studies 187, the day Alex Deschamps took to the stage, in her high heels, and beautiful hair, and Dominica accent, and I realized, for the first time, that I wanted to do THAT.

Because I saw myself for the first time that day.

I am honored to be a teacher of color for the Greenfield Public Schools.

#wecandobetter

#wehavetodobetter
#latinaandproud
#brownandproud
#thisskinIwear

And to think, you thought it was just a thank you for a box of thin line markers. <3

*Edited to add: Contrary to what is pictured, in no way, was I wearing a see-through dress...to school. I mean, yes, it was over 100 degrees, but, my skirt was appropriately covered in flowers. 

---

Today, Google, Some AMAZING INFLUENCERS, and Donorschoose.org launched the #ISeeMe Initiative.

And I don't really know what else to say.

I know Michael Jackson's YOU ARE NOT ALONE is blaring in my mind, with mind movies of Lavar Burton bursting into our room, lol.

I know my kids are proud to be a part of an incredible movement.

And I know 2nd grade me.

The one desperate to be enough, heard, in the timbre of Stephen's incredible film: You. Are.

#ISeeMe

To:)

Teacher Appreciation.

I am so sorry this post is landing so close to actual Teacher Appreciation Week.
We've been busy.
I've been busy.

But I want to stop here to tell you that all I ever wanted for Teacher Appreciation Week was given to me during our last day with Miss Hendershott, our amazing student teacher.

It didn't come in a gift bag.
Or in a gift card for all the energy drinks I could ever want, lol.

Or even in the beautiful crayon gift, Miss Hendershott made me.

It came.
Out of the mouth of one of the members of our 2nd-grade family.

Let me set the scene.

We were filling out Miss Hendershott's eval, known as a 3-2-1. Three things she did amazing, two things she should take from our room and use in her own, and one area she could improve on.

We were brainstorming all the possibilities and were working on things she could take from our room to hers.

Our fam suggested yoga, and mindfulness, and zearn, and flexible seating. Gosh I love them.

But it was Julian.
Who gave me the gift.

"Maybe," he said, "She could take all the love we have here in our classhome, and bring it with her to her own room."

And I thought, as I wrote his idea on the board, that will do.

If my class fam notices the love.
Feels the comfort.
And ease of learning together.

Then.
I am appreciated beyond measure.

#bestgiftever
#loved
#seen
#blessed

Vacation.

Rarely am I able to stay away from my classroom over a vacation.

I know.

I hear all the teachers like, "STOP. GO HOME NOW."

And there are a million reasons I can't.

Or don't want to...like...where else can I blast broadway show tunes and scream-sing along to Anastasia? Nowhere, but an empty school with two incredible custodians wearing noise-canceling headphones.

But.
There is another reason.

Sure, I am also currently embracing the Marie Kondo life and purging things I've held onto because I MIGHT use them. And it's a big draw to come in and cleanse this room of clutter.

It's a thing of beauty. I also had a dear teacher friend who said I'm #teachergoals...and I was like, "y'all know I just found a Red Bull, beside a rotten apple, underneath a pile of tshirts in my room, right?" #realteacherlife

I mean, if that's your goal?  <3 #winning.

But.
There is another reason.

And it's two-fold.

I am a worrier.
Always have been, always will be.
And vacations induce worry.

Are they sleeping?
Are they eating?
Are they happy?
Has anyone taken their sweet cheeks in their hands today and said, "I LOVE YOU!"
Did they have breakfast?
A snack?
Have they sat in front of their computer, tablet, or TV for hours on end?
Are they safe?
Are they safe?

Are.
THEY.
SAFE?

And that worry, that larger than life worry sits in the pit of my stomach.
Even when I'm not in my classhome.

I made it home to NYC for a few days.
Washed the kitchen floor.
Made some kosher food shtuffs.
Saw KING KONG - 10 out of 10 recommendation for a puppet that will bring you to tears.
Spent some time with my favorite people outside of school.
Fell in love with Adam Pascal's eyelashes all over again, hey Pretty Woman!
Went to rehearsal for Avenue Q, my name Christmas Eve.

And all the while, I worried.
There is one place that quells that worry.


Room 125.
My classhome.

Getting it ready for my family to come back means we're almost back.
Getting it cleaned is getting ready to share my excitement with them.
It takes some of the worries and turns it into a fervor.

Joy rumbles inside me when I think about how they'll love this one part I cleaned.
Or one part I've changed.

Or they won't believe the closet is this clean - hahahaha - okay, I can't believe it.

This isn't just a room.
It's a safe space.
It's home.
It's happy.
It's my familyroom.

They aren't just 2nd graders, they are world changers, future leaders, comedians, joy makers, and part of my crew.

So.

Judge me if you must.
But I'll be home working in this little room for the next few days.

Chances are, I won't hear you judging anyway, I'll be scream-singing, "In My Dreams" from Anastasia.

Who's That Baby? And Why it's NOT a Game.

You know when you can see a picture and suddenly you are so clearly transported back to the last time you saw something like that? There's a picture of my first class beside my desk and I often think back to who they are. And can remember their small voices and how lucky I was to know them.

And then, there are pictures like this.

And suddenly.

I'm eight.

In third grade.

At Southampton Road School.

In Westfield, MA.

Staring at a very similar display on the back of Mrs. M's door.

Several boys are chuckling.

My face is hot.

I'm horrified.

Desperate to not start crying.

"I guess we don't really have to guess who that one is?"

"Don't you have any real baby pictures?"

The burning hot tears are poking the back of my eyeballs.

But I turn to laugh with them, "Nope. Guess I'll be the easiest one of all."

"Wait, you really don't have any baby pictures?"

"She's adopted," my sweet friend responded.

I was doing my best to disappear at the moment.

So I returned to the yellow sheet of paper where we were all guessing who was who.

"I'm number 12. In case anyone didn't know," I said writing my own name down.

That night, I'd go home, as so many nights before, and scrub my skin.

Until it was red, and the bath water dark.

I'd brush my hair until it was matted and stuck down.

And I'd wish more than anything in the entire world that I could just disappear.

Into some void.

And never be known again.

I know you, yes, you, sweet teacher, did not intend to make me feel this way.

I doubt you considered that among my 24 white peers, this wasn't much of a game for me.

Or that not having any baby photos - not existing in anyone's memory before 2 and 1/2 was, until meeting my birth mother in my 30's, one of my single greatest triggers and deepest sadnesses I'd ever know.

The earliest photos of my brown earthy skin and curly locks has me in blue overalls and almost three.

We do, as students, spend far too much time trying to fit in.

Long hair.

Straight hair.

The perfect bun.

The right clothes.

Most of it out of our control. 

When I began teaching in my own classroom, I knew I'd never put ANY of my students in this situation - simply - by not creating it.

My goal in my classroom is to create a family.

A beautiful, colorful, unique family.

Valuing each piece of all us.

Not pointing out differences.

Not highlighting it.

Embracing it.

Celebrating it.

Loving it.

Skip the Who's that Baby?

I don't know that you need a substitute. Something else to do.

Choose to see your students for who they are now.

Not what baby photo they can find.

I have a dear colleague who asked a very honest, and serious question, "Genuinely, if all my students are of the same ethnicity, does this still apply?" 

"If you have to ask," I offered, "that's your gut answering YES."

When I was 30, I traveled to Santiago, Chile, my birth country and met my mother and sister. In the depths of healing for both of us, she offered this photo. And I thought then, as I do now, I wouldn't have wanted to share this with my class either. This is Macarena Del Pilar, before she was adopted - before she was Jami Lyn. 

This is me.

Who's that baby?

A teacher.

A partner.

A friend.

A learner.

A leader.

Loved.

"Like A Dream"

I keep thinking I'll figure out the right way to start this blog post.
Like it will somehow come to me.

When I let my mind simmer in the past week, I often come back to this song from Shrek the Musical, "When Words Fail"

'When words fail

What will I do'

When words fail

How will she know how I feel'

When words fail

Will I fail too'

If you've never enjoyed Brian Darcy James as Shrek and this beautiful song about being awkward and awesome, I implore the reader to do just that (and google Freak Flag - chillbumps!)

It was in thinking about words, that I thought - well - my partner said, "Just tell the story of the day."

So.

Here we go.

If you need to get caught up on where the story began: Oh Ma' Yoga!!

On Wednesday June 6th, I waited anxiously ALL morning.

Would there flight take off okay?

Delays?

Would they get out of Boston okay?

Delays?

Was this going to actually happen?

I was reminded that EVEN if it were delayed, since it was an entire school surprise, it's not like anyone would be totally disappointed, lol, just me.

My partner and I chatted a little about being nervous that someone you've never actually met would be able to live up to the expectation you've built in your own brain, my response,

"Something tells, they'll be even MORE incredible than I've imagined."

My phone buzzed with an international number, and a few hours later, Jaime and her husband Martin were on the walkway to Newton School.

All my anxiety melted away and we picked up like old friends I guess, even though we were just meeting! A couple of hours later, they were sufficiently tired, ha, had a tour of our school, met some excited teachers and were on their way to dinner with their Agent, Elan.

And I knotted up my anxiety again with the surprise of tomorrow morning.

I should add - June 7th, their scheduled visit day was...
My Birthday!
Hooray!
AND...the scheduled visit of DESE to evaluate our Extended Learning Time program.

Pack it in.

The morning of June 7th was to play out something like this:

I'd pick my kiddos up outside at 7:50am - we'd rush inside for breakfast in the classroom and then I'd announce we were getting the ONCE in a lifetime opportunity to SKYPE with Jaime in England. She'd sent us a short video of not being able to hear us. 

So, picture me at 7:45 going to pick up my kiddos and hearing the cheeriest little kindergartner strolling past one of my students shouting, "HOORAY, today is the day we meet Jaime and do YOGA!!"

Most of the teachers stared at me devasted, but I smiled and managed to convince everyone we were just skyping.

We raced around getting our Newton Shirts on and getting ready to Skype.

At 8:20, Jaime and Martin arrived and I put them in the hands of Miss Welcome who is our building monitor and a HUGE Cosmic Kids Yoga fan!

She ushered them down to my room and waited for us to say the secret code word.

My class yelled it loud - and the door popped open!  It was tears and open mouths for the next few minutes while everyone caught their breath. Of course, since we're sassy and in 4th grade, they were all like, "I could tell that wasn't really skyping." :)

Martin filmed from their angle, and I captured ours - I hope to able to share both with you dear Donors and friends in an upcoming post.

And then, as if I had imagined it exactly right, they gathered at family meeting and asked a million and one questions.
And talked about what yoga was for them.
Camden and Zaire had been on a student panel and arrived back late, but just as excited as ever.

At 9am, my class went off to art, and I came back to help Jaime and Martin get set up in the gym for Kindergarten.
I was on a panel myself so I missed the actual kindergarten class, but I do know they were equally excited!

Jaime yoga-ed with every class.
Every student.
And to say it was a thing of beauty is an understatement.

I had a vision in asking Jaime to come and in planning the day.
What actually took place, exceeded every one of my wildest dreams.

It was a day of being seen.
Being loved.
Being Zen.

We lunched with Jaime, though I'm not sure how much she ate, considering so many of my littles were nose to nose with her the entire lunch.

They couldn't get enough.

We Q and A'd again at the end of the day and did a little more meditation.
And my gracious.
Was it ever lovely!

All day long in the halls of our little school, you heard,
"This is like a dream"
"I can't believe this is happening?!"
"Is this real?"
"She's really here?"
"I feel like I'm dreaming, I have to touch my face and I'm awake."

The lasting impact of her visit - well, it's days later, and the energy is still palpable.
My fourthies are filling out scrapbooks for the end of the year and of course, their favorite day is the one Jaime came to visit.
Mine too.

I am once again, dear donors, fellow dreamers and teachers, and framily, humbled by your support of this crazy big dream.

There are many things in our world that are hard
or are hurting,
sad,
and painful.

This.
This gift.
This dream.
Has cast such a vibrant light on love and kindness, the glow is still strong.
Thanks for sharing your kindness.

And to Jaime and Martin, who are, long before Ms. Witherell, the best sort of dreamers I've ever met, thank you both for dreaming YOUR big dreams, so that some random Thursday in the month of June, those dreams would meet the dreams of 240 students in a little school in suburban Massachusetts.

Ohm. Ma. Yoga!

When I was little,

I wrote a letter to Robert Newton Peck.

The author of the Soup series.

And I waited eagerly for a reply.

I got one.

I remember,
And felt so...seen.

---

When I was in college,

I went to hear J.M. Coetzee speak.

The Nobel Peace Prize Winning South African author visited our campus.

and I, of course, remember every vivid detail of shaking that man's hand and weeping.

---

I wrote a thank you letter to Tony DiTerlizzi,

Thanking him for writing books that inspire my students to read.

And that AMAZING man and his incredible wife...

SURPRISED ME, by visiting my students - just out of the blue.

#IsThisRealLife!

---

My 5th-grade teacher, Karen Willard, showed up at every play,

Show, Birthday, Graduation, etc, I ever invited her to.

She even surprised me this school year, visiting my classroom for community reader night.
(Special shout out for showing up 25 years after you had to)

---

All of these moments, these snippets into my childhood and adulthood - are memories of connection. A time when someone showed up for me.

Made me known.

Made me feel special.

Important.

As such, they've also stayed with me, through every step of my journey.

The good bits and the hard.

That I mattered to someone - made all the difference in my life.

---

But this is a story about something that hasn't happened yet.

And someone who lives a world away.

And about yoga.

And maybe more so - the power of the internet.

Several years ago, while teaching in inner-city Holyoke, I longed to bring yoga into my 3rd grade.
On some random weekend and not very deep into my google search, I stumbled upon Jaime and her site, Cosmic Kids Yoga.

As an adult, I was riveted by what she offered - chewable bites of kid-sized yoga that was engaging, movement-oriented and told through story.

As a teacher, I was hooked the first day I introduced it to my class.
And so were they.

I moved to Greenfield in 2013 and took a 3rd and 4th-grade looping position spending 2 years with the same class family. It has been a dream job, at the Disney World of elementary schools.

When I explained to my principal, Melodie Goodwin, that I wanted to add a 20-minute block of yoga to our daily schedule, she was on board right away.

As an extended learning school (our day begins at 7:30am and goes until almost 4pm) our students craved some "body-focused mindfulness".

Over the last five years, Cosmic Kids Yoga and Jaime who facilitates the yoga have become an integral part of our day and our class family.

This June, I will close the loop on the last two years of working with my students as they head off to middle school.

Early in the school year (our second together), a student asked a simple, but big question: Do you think Jaime will ever come visit?

Immediately, I responded that, while we've corresponded via email, sent her warm fuzzies and photos of the class doing yoga, that it was still, in fact, a long way from Manchester, UK to Western Massachusetts.

And this story could have ended here, with a class full of 4th graders who love doing yoga.

But the request itched at the back of my mind for some time.
I even drafted an email I left lingering in my drafts.

Subject: The craziest afternoon email of all time:

Jaime,

I have had - in my whirring teacher brain - this question that I've hesitated to ask...

So here I go: We'd LOVE to invite you and Martin to our cozy Newton School here in the States. I know that a price quote for that will probably be astronomical.;) But if I'm going to teach shoot for the moon, I better practice it...

Peace, laughter, and lots of namaste,

Jami

At the same time, our connection with our friends at DonorsChoose.org was starting to make dreaming big dreams possible.

DonorsChoose.org is an incredible organization that allows teachers to create projects/grants for their classroom supplies, professional development, and CLASSROOM VISITORS.

I wondered as the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation funded professional development for me to Get My Teach On in New Orleans, and the Born This Way Foundation funded materials to make our classroom trauma ready if we could write a project to bring Jaime and Cosmic Kids stateside for the surprise of a lifetime.

I sent the email.

And waited.

But not very long.

The following morning:

Dear Jami,

What a glorious idea!! I love it! We would be honoured to come and meet you and your kids who are finding so much value in what we do. We would love to make this happen. 

Can’t wait to build this idea with you and will check in once I have some figures!

Huge love and namaste to you all!

Jaime xxx

Once I was done crying and envisioning what the day would look like, we set about emailing back and forth creating a quote for DonorsChoose.org

All totaled it was a BIG project at just over $3,000.

Never having designed such a big project, we broke it up into three smaller projects and prayed.

Several Cosmic Kids Yoga enthusiasts joined our amazing cause and we were on our way to raising the first thousand.

And just when you thought that was the biggest dream, something even more incredible happened.

DonorsChoose.org and it's founder, Charles Best had been working behind the scenes to make #BestSchoolDay come to life. With new friends at Ripple, they set about donating $29 million dollars and funding all 35,000 projects that were live on the DonorsChoose.org site that #BestSchoolDay.

Including ours.

#omg

#noway

#isthisreallife

And at 2:47am, I realized, Jaime was coming to Newton School.

I emailed her (thank goodness UK time is 5 hours ahead), with delight.

We are still in the planning stages, but we look forward to her visit on June 7th.

We're planning a tremendous surprise for my homeroom and then a day full of yoga for all the students here at Newton School.

I'm pretty sure this is a story about connection.

And how one small email can set into motion something incredible.

It's about friendship.

Learning.

Yoga.

And as I end, maybe it's more about learning and teaching to dream big.

To never stop dreaming.

About asking the impossible and figuring out how to make it possible.

I look forward to June, now, not just as my 35th birthday, but as a day I know my students will remember forever. The internet is a crazy amazing place, and when used for good can connect us to worlds away and people who bring epic goodness into our lives on a daily basis.

Surprises.

I.
Hate.
Surprises.

I bet that surprises you, dear reader.
I love planning and implementing surprises, but being surprised myself - nay nay - no thanks.

I suppose - the impetus for this stems back to two of the worst surprises ever: a reality TV surprise and a surprise shower in the middle of a surprise shower I was throwing for someone else. 

::Cringe::

Though, I will say, one time time my principal surprised me with a visit from Tony DiTerlizzi - and I was totally cool with that surprise - because it was for my kids - not me.

Now.
Throwing a surprise - that's another story entirely - it's my absolute favorite.
I love planning.
I love the excitement and getting everyone ready.

So.
Around the holiday season and break time, I urge my students to go sans gifts for me.
Our families, if they celebrate, should keep the goodies for their families.

And no one should ever feel obligated to buy presents.
I celebrate Hanukkah, so the majority of my gift giving is done before our last day of school.

I make a big deal to remind students the power of a hand written note.
And leave it at that.

Well.
Imagine my surprise.
When, on the second day of Hanukkah - we had a snowday on the first - one of my littles appeared with two white bags.  On each bag read a quote.
And inside the bag was something that had to do with the quote.
And each day of Hanukkah there was always another bag.
Another quote.
Another gift.

And truly, it was such a miraculous surprise.
To be so loved.

"The influence of a good teacher, can never be erased"
A Journal and  Pen.

"By doing what you love, you inspire and awaken the hearts of others."
A love mug and some gold chocolate coins.

The list included:
Homemade apple butter.
A Candle.
A coloring book and pencils.
A dreidel and some chocolate.

And, the lasting memory of a mom and daughter who went WAY above and beyond to make this looping 4th grade teacher feel valued and loved.

It's a good thing I surprised them too:

Season's greetings, dear readers.

Born This Way.

Learn more about writing a project for this match donation here: Born This Way Match

Y'all.
I have had a...week?
A month?

1. A visit from my 5th grade teacher.
2. A surprise award from People Admin's Inpired2Teach Essay Contest!
3. An anemic episode...or two.
4. Professional Developments.
5. Bracelet making for Refugees.
6. I AM unAFRAi.d. Assembly
7. October Poetry Parade.
8. All school assembly
9. Parent Teacher Conferences
10. Tech week for Seussical the Musical (Sour Kangaroo reporting for duty!)

And we're not slowing down.
Don't get me wrong.
We're loving every minute.

There was even a day last week where I emailed Andrea Davis Pinkney to find out how much a visit cost (spoiler alert - out of our budget range) - but SHE EMAILED ME BACK?!  I died.

We also, with the help of our friends at DonorsChoose.org funded several thousand dollars worth of projects around the US.  PAYING IT FORWARD.

And welcomed, with the help of our friends at DonorsChoose.org, two new carpets, a chromebook cart, teacher materials on mindfulness, and two more chromebooks.

But.

It's been a lot.
We've been a lot.
Crabby.
Tired.
Thoughtless.
Rude.
Confused.
Careless.
Unfocused.
Unsettled.

The kids and I both.

This time of year, I wonder if it's daylight saving?
Or Halloween?
Or parent teacher conferences?
Or the moon?

Until.

I chatted with our social worker about one of my littles.
"Did she explain at all what was bothering her this morning," I asked regarding her full teary meltdown about writing her name on her paper.
"Not really, but she did express concern about the holidays and what she'd be doing.  Because she doesn't know.  I think it's difficult because her foster dad might not necessarily be getting their input..."

Her voice trailed off, and I let my thoughts wander to the two blankets I'm crocheting for her and her sister. <-That's not proper English - correct me, please :).

I don't know when they'll go up for adoption, but I want to make sure they have THEIR OWN blankets for the holidays.

Just like I want my entire classhome to be trauma ready.

With the help of our friends at donorschoose.org and the Born This Way Foundation, we're one project closer to that happening.  Creating an environment for their safety and security makes spending 8 hours together - magical.

"I love our home," they often say when we return.
"Ms. W," they'll say during breakfast, "I just want to be home, I mean here for all the grades."

And of course, as much as I wish here meant in THIS classroom or with ME, what that really means - is they want to feel safe and loved all the years they are in school.

And boy howdy, do they deserve it.
Every.
Single.
Child.
Deserves to arrive to school - feeling safe, loved, and ready to tackle the day with an enthusiasm matched only by the educator creating that space.

I think Lady Gaga and the Born This Way Foundation are SPOT on in their commitment to supporting classrooms across the country in this mission.

Have your written your project yet?
Share away, my fellow teachery type friends.  Share away.

Desk

Ok.

I know ahead of time.
This post.
Will likely strike a not so nice chord with some teachers.
And even some teachery type friends.

But the opinions I express here are mine.
They make sense to me.
So if you are in some way offended - I put that back on you.
I'm talking about my teaching practice and what my belief is.

It is no way a judgement of you.
Here we go.

I never had a desk.
A teacher one that is.

I read something in graduate school.
A small snippet of something or Dr. Grassetti had mentioned it.
And I decided I didn't need one.

It was a place for piles.
And it felt like it asserted power that I didn't want.
And somehow made me the most important person in the room - which I am not.

For so many new teachers and old ones for that matter,
A desk is a requirement.
You've waited your entire life for knick knack space and pen holders.
And the ever so important place to lock up your valuables since you can't trust your kids.

I decided I wanted to learn WITH my class, experience learning with them, rather than at them.
To this day I can tell a lot about a teacher by the size of their desk.
How important they feel.
How much they want their student's respect.
How little they trust their kids.

And I can also tell, when someone has given over to this believe.
And decided that their classroom will be a community, not just "theirs".

The next question becomes what do you DO with all your STUFF?!
Honestly, I try not to have too much of it.
I made myself a teacher toolbox, which I'm happy to share on another post.
And that's about it.
I also have a shelf in the library that's materialy.

And.

Last year, I built (so easy).
My own standing computer table.
Both the kids and I use it.
And man alive, do we love it.

You can make one too.
SO easy.

You'll need a table top: LINNMON Table Top IKEA
And a 4 Cube Organizer: Better Homes and Garden Walmart
And...
are you even ready for this:
Industrial strength velcro.

Yes, folks.
No glue, no nails.
Nothing.

That's it.
Velcro the bottom of the table top and the tope of the 4 Cubes and done.
I got fancy and addes casters to mine so it can also roll anywhere in the room.
But.
Also super easy.
We love our standing "desk" and I appreciate that we all have a chance to move.
Without feeling like - Ms. Witherell has a spot dedicated solely to me. :)

Love

I am working hard on completing my assignments for silver level Whole Brain Teaching certification.
I've written essays.
I've reflected.
And now, we're filming.

And ya'll.
I hate being filmed.
Which is ironic as I spent an entire year on a reality TV Show.

Suffice it to say that year was more than enough.
Anyways.
Point being.
I hate being filmed.

So I asked my class to really help me out when it came to filming.
To show their stuff.
To be awesome.

Which means.
Of Course.
The first footage is of my number 18 almost flipping over the green table at group.

Lol.

But, then.
Oh my gosh.
Then.

It's fast.
It's collaboration.
It's seeing room for improvement and things that went well.

It's seeing some of the things I missed and being able to praise it.
There is so much beauty in the break down of the film.

I love my kids.
It took awhile, like three month, but I love them.
For who they are.
Who they will become.
And for everything they let me help them with.

They are broken.
They are bruised.
Traumatized.
New.
Old.
Young.
Babies.
Leaders.
Followers.
And everything in between.

But they are perfect.

For those of you who don't know me in real life, I am NOT a hugger.
Repeat NOT.

For a host of personal reasons and because LICE is rampant in our room.
And I hate to be the teacher who is like I'll hug you but you have lice so no.

So it's a universal thing that Ms. Witherell is not a hugger.
Well, today, at the end of testing for winter MAP.
And traveling to London.
And sewing stockings and making Chrismtas Cards.

I was beat.
Buh buh beat.

I was standing near the smart board waiting for dismissal to begin. 
Miss C and her little self stood on the far side of the carpet.
Miss C who jumped in map like 17 points and made benchmark.
Miss C who asked me twice if I was having a bad day, lol, I wasn't.

You sure?
I was having a great day, I said.

Miss C stood there, arms outstretched, "Ms. Witherell, do you think today I could get a hug."

And even though our lice friend was sent home today with more lice.
And even though I don't hug on princple.
She ran up and gave me a hug.
And I let her little body melt into mine.
And I whispered loudly, "I'm really proud to call you mine."
"You are?"  She responded.
"Best day ever."
"You sure?" She said again.
"Positive," I replied.

I love them.
I choose love every day.
Because everything else in their worlds hasn't been that way.
And sometimes, love is all I have to give.
And probably all they need.