Change of Guardian

Today I unpacked belongings and materials in my new room at the new school that I will be at this year, teaching first grade.  After teaching third grade for eight years, these students will seem tiny; tiny I tell you!  They are coming in at five years old.  That's just five years of breathing on this earth, their bodies are not syncopated nor complete, and they spin.  I will try very hard not to scare them, even though I have been told a couple are "runners."

The old school I worked at had moved to a temporary site with all the teacher materials packed up in June; all my stuff went there, so once I found where I was placed, after a week of my name going missing, I went over and sorted out my stuff from what belonged to the school, boxes and boxes of books accumulated over the years and other materials.  Took all damn day.  Told people what side of the room the boxes were in, movers were to come and haul stuff out after I marked the new place on the boxes.

Easy.  Until I got to the school and found that the new teacher mistakenly emptied my boxes and filled her shelves with my materials.  Found a note stating that she went through the cartons to gather District Materials and left me with my personal items.  So, I had to repack all the stuff into about forty boxes, tape and label them again, these alleged 'District Materials' included purchases with my name written in them and a set of 25 Charlotte's Web books.  Find me a district that will buy your class 25 Charlotte's Web books and I will eat my hat.  And anyways, what was with this District business?  I'm still a District teacher, it's not like I was leaving the country.

Thank goodness dear Mr. Mr. got the movers to get my stuff to the new school; that plus 29 other boxed kept at a downtown storage unit made up what I did today; unpack.  The bright and shining spot was that my friend Pauline dropped in from a busy day to help me, God bless that woman.  Smart as a whip and knew where things should go without me telling her.  We got the boxes finished, a very large accomplishment, but I am still behind because of the snafu.  I'll catch up.  This is what told me a story, the unpacking; it is a cobbled story put together by many hands for whom I am forever grateful.

Many items were in small boxes, such as games or flashcards; others were books discarded because the District said the teachers shouldn't use them anymore and to throw them out.  The public would be more than upset to learn just how many educational materials we are told to throw out because they don't meet the new standards of the year, according to whichever book vendor the city purchases from.
Workbooks, instructional books, reading books, fraction games, scientific posters were all handed down to me by generous compatriots through the years.  Today I found that many had the names of the original owner.

I have a sheaf of human body posters and fossil models given to me by Barb Malcolm, her name written on the outside of the flat cardboard box containing them; workbooks and Mailbox magazines from MaryAnn, a fifth grade teacher and science mentor, her handwriting scribbled in pertinent notes throughout the text; books from Linda, paints and holiday materials from Deb; workbooks and art cards from Sue W., math games from Sue H., and storybooks from Sue C.   Dutch shoes, a conch shell, and center materials from Rich; water trays and paintbrushes from Ginny; balances, snowflake patterns from Jane; a survival kit of organizers from Lynn, organized files and  pencils from Joanne; a cactus and books from Barbara Allen; blankets and sheets from Karima so my kids could sit on the grass;  a chalkboard from  Ann;  guppies from Darlene; word wall cards from Amy; a Jeopardy game, a little wooden desk with green legs, and a basket shaped like a duck from Paula and Phil that I use for homework.

I'm sure there is more that will pop up as I unpack further, but these are names that are part of my history and wealth.  There are few people more generous than someone in the education business, especially the folks who have contact with the classroom; believe me, you do not go into this job for the money, there is very little considering the investment in time and finances that is put in, and often must be paid back.  Job security?  Summers off?  Are you kidding?  You have to work to stay afloat at a second job, and are expected to take courses over the summer in preparation for new fall mandates or technological advances.  I have been in a school everyday for the past two weeks, working without pay to get ready for the new year.  And, if you think teaching children is easy, come on in.  You are in for a shock as to what comes out of their mouths or gets thrown at you. It is not a surprise these days, to hear of a colleague being sent to the emergency room for treatment, or for the police to be called to an elementary school.   Last year was the first year that I felt unsafe in my job.  Enrollment at teaching colleges is down, the last I heard, for few want the profession that receives an unfair amount of media and public derision.

We want these jobs for other reasons; to teach the joy of knowledge and the power of critical thinking to children so that when they are adults, they are able to make choices that they have a voice in, and further the good for our community, our earth.  These names I read today as I unpacked reminded me of my friends that I have worked with, and learned from, over the years.  Thank you all for teaching me how to educate a kid, to engage them and meet them halfway.  You are ever in my heart.

I can see the Niagara River from my classroom, and Canada.   The whitecaps on the river today showed the wind coming in from the west, pushing waters high, crashing over the breakwall.  I am water, I flow, break on the surface, and find my own level again.  Good night, sleep well, crash through the wall of dreams; wait and find me, I am still here.  Sleep.