Animate.

This is pretty amazing... what do you think about it?

Parents?

Oh the conversations we have at bus time. Usually it’s a pleasant opportunity for Mrs. D. and I to learn more about our students, but today, they learned a little more about us.

“How about I call you Mrs. A. and you Mr. D.?” Suggested Penny.

She thought this switch in the gender of our titles was quite clever.

“Well, Mr. D. is my husband,” Mrs. D. replied.

“Mrs. A. is my mom,” I replied.

“You have a mom?” Evelyn asked, sincerely shocked.

“Of course I have a mom, where do you think I came from?” I asked.

All the sprouts in line looked at me. They looked at Mrs. D. They’d never thought about this before… did teachers have parents?

“I have a mom and dad,” Ricky chimed in.

“We all do,” Mrs. D. added.

With that, the bus line was called and off they went... with their teachers a little more human then when they arrived.

Rooster.

Apparently, being a male kindergarten teacher is a bit of an anomaly. I know, I know… men don’t usually work with the little ones. In my school, I’m the only man in kindergarten. There are no males in first or second grade either. You have to reach the realms of third grade before getting a teacher with a little testosterone. One of the unique aspects of working with young children is, by default, I work almost exclusively with women.

One of the questions I get asked most is, just how is it working with only ladies all day long? To be fair, before I began teaming with Mrs. D. this year, I really worked with myself all day long. Teaching, no matter your gender, is a profession usually void of a lot of adult contact… something I’m fine with.

As for the rest of the ladies I’m surrounded by, I’d say for the most part, they are respectful and supportive. There are always those that appear to be less than friendly and helpful, but I don’t think being a man has anything to do with it… they don’t discriminate in their impoliteness. I’m lucky to have a small group of friends who have literally lifted me up at times. I try and remember to tell them all how wonderful they are, but I’m sure I don’t do it enough.

The teacher’s room can be a dangerous place for a man at lunchtime. I’ve heard and learned more about pregnancy and birth than I ever cared to know. I’ve seen more ultra-sound photographs than an ultrasonographer (for the record, no I can’t see the baby, they all like a cross between a peanut and a squirrel to me).

I’ve been to enough wedding and baby showers to make a small dent in my bank account. Apparently you are not supposed to dig into the food until the guest of honor arrives, something I learned the hard way. The good news is there’s almost always cake and enough frosting can make almost anything bearable… even the sight of twenty women ‘oooohing’ and ‘aaaaahing’ over tiny baby clothes.

Being a rooster among hens isn’t as glorious as it sounds. Thankfully, most of the ladies I’m surrounded by help make my job easier (Mrs. D., Ms. R., Miss M., Mrs. F. – you all make coming to work a joy). And let’s not forget the kids. The little smiles and hugs can sometimes literally propel me through a bad day. When a small sprout looks up at me and says, “I love school and I love you!” it puts it all into perspective.

Exposure.

“I can’t wait to tell your mom how smart you are at your conference Andy,” I said after Andy read his writing to me.

I meant it too. Andy is what I like to call an ‘exposure sprout’ – meaning when he started kindergarten, he feel into the basket of students who knew very little. No letters, no numbers, no name recognition, and no handwriting skills… you get the idea.

Unlike some of his counterparts though, Andy has taken off. And not like an airplane, but more like a rocket. For whatever reason, he’d simply never been exposed to the information in a way that allowed him to access and retain it. Within days he knew his name. A few days later, he could write it. Now he knows almost all the sounds and is writing words and sentences that are easily read.

I’d like to take all the credit. I suppose Mrs. D. deserves some too. The reality is Andy deserves most of the recognition. From the first day, he’s worn a smile and shown a genuine enthusiasm for learning. He’s become a learning junkie. Each morning he arrives awaiting his knowledge fix.

I meant what I told Andy about expressing my joy at his progress to his mother in a few weeks at his conference. I don’t know her very well, but I’m sure she’s going to be as ecstatic at his growth as I am. It just took a little exposure.

Please stand by...

With all the changes to the blog lately, I've been in a little bit of a funk with the 'feed' - I'm not exactly sure what the feed is, how it works, or how to change it, but after finally figuring out how to point it to the new blog address, I think I may have dropped all the subscribers (sorry!). The NEW feed is UP and working, so please feel free to resubscribe and enjoy the new feed. Thanks again for everyone's support and patience.

Fight.

A few days ago, at bus time, I had walked over to my computer to put my keys down from recess and saw an email that annoyed me. Without going into details, I wasn’t happy. As I walked over to the last group of kids lined up to head home, I let Mrs. D. know how angry I was.

To be clear, I didn’t use any profanity. I didn’t use any names. I didn't raise my voice. She knew who sent the email and what the issue was. I was venting quietly and she, like the good friend she is, was listening.

Well, Audra, one of our brighter little sprouts, overheard me.

“Mr. A., are you and Mrs. D. having a fight?” She asked with sincere concern in her voice.

“Oh no, not at all. Mrs. D. and I don’t fight. We may not always agree, but we respect each other and always talk to each other in a kind way,” I told her.

“What are you so upset about?” She inquired.

“Just some grown up stuff, but nothing to do with Mrs. D.,” I reassured her.

Sometimes I forget that in addition to teaching our class how to read and write, Mrs. D. and I are modeling a caring and respectful relationship between a man and a woman, something new to some children. Although we don’t live together (yes, we’ve been asked), we’re friends and friends are kind… always.

Ratio.

Yesterday, during a lesson, Lenny raised his hand. He didn’t shout out and so, even though I wasn't looking for an answer, I called on him.

“Lenny, do you have a question?” I asked.

“Yesterday, I went to the doctor and got TWO shots,” he began.

Clearly he didn’t have a question, but he was also speaking quickly, on a roll, and had a sweet smirk, like the punch line to a joke was coming.

“BUT, even though I got two shots, I got THREE stickers!” He finished.

I glanced over at Mrs. D. and she smiled at me. The ball was in my court.

“Well, that’s a pretty good ratio,” I replied.

Lenny smiled and we continued with our lesson.