Heartbroken

I have three more days with my 26 children. THREE. It's not fair that the best semester of my college education is going the quickest. (American Heritage didn't fly by like this...) The good news is my class told me they were all coming to Westridge with me. The bad news is they can't. There will be tears on Thursday!

I know looking at these kids means nothing to you. But I could tell you many stories about each child. Like the day I told one girl that I liked her haircut and she instantly covered her head and said, "I hate it! I look like Christopher Columbus!"

Or the time when my hair was falling out a student said, "Mrs. Smith, your hair is messed up!"

"Why so blue?" Asked my witty student when the projector made my face look blue. And "She must have a wet sense of humor," when we read a story with the cover of a lady deep sea diving.

Along with leaving the students, I have to leave my amazing mentor teacher. I will miss her. She is the bomb.

What will happen to me next year when I have students for a whole year? How will I ever let them leave for summer vacation?!

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Shhhhhh Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh SHHHHHHHH shhhhhhh sHHHHHHHH SH

My teaching pet peeve.

Once one person starts, the whole class follows. The noise escalates. And then everyone starts saying who is talking. I know, I can hear. Plus, when you say SHHHHSHHSHH you are talking too. But I can't get too upset because the look on your face when I ask you to read instead of talk is too priceless, especially when you try to look innocent--it's not working.

How far have we come?

Last week during a 20 minute math rotation Mrs. Crane assigned partners to play integers jeopardy. I watched a boy obviously scoot as far from his partner as he could, while others snickered mockingly. Then, after the students returned to their homeroom, the girl poured hand sanitizer on her desk when she found out who was sitting there during the rotation. The girl is different, and I know she does unusual things during class, but does that deserve treatment like that?

Then it got me thinking: how far have we come since sixth grade? Of course none of us would be as obvious as pouring hand sanitizer on our desk to get rid of the germs. We've learned how to hide our dislike. Is that much better? Does that mean we haven't learned anything since sixth grade?

I know that being nice to everyone is easier said than done; however, every week I promise to act as a disciple of the Savior when I take the sacrament. I promise to act in His name. The Savior lived His life serving, loving, and being kind to others. I am ready for the challenge to be a nicer person. Want to join me?