Bright Beginnings

This isn't really a post about teaching as much as it is about life changing when you least expect that it will.

I prayed all summer that my afternoon Pre-K class would fill up.  At the end of last school year, I knew that I would either be teaching a morning and an afternoon Pre-K class, or I would teach a morning Pre-K class and then completely switch gears (and locations) to teach special education in the afternoons.  To get two Pre-K classes, I was told that I would need 30 students enrolled before the class would split.  I watched as my class started with 15 students, then went up to 18, then 23, then 25, then 26.  With each addition to my class, I started to breathe a little easier, confident that I would get the necessary 30 students and officially be able to teach one thing all day.  And then it didn't happen.  On top of this, I found out that one of the full-time special education teachers at my school got relocated at the last minute, meaning that our school essentially lost a half-time position and my caseload would be larger than expected.  I also discovered, as I was unscrewing bookshelves from the walls in my Pre-K classroom (which, I might add, was inaccessible to me all summer because it was being used for daycare), that the surface underneath was five different colors, so the entire classroom would need to be repainted...by me.  At the end of the day on Thursday, August 14th, I left the school with half-painted walls, no furniture, no assistant for my classroom, no idea who my special education students would be, lots of tears, and crushing feelings of panic and defeat because school would be starting in less than a week and I had hardly touched either of my two classrooms.

Obviously, school did start, seemingly without me.  Contrary to my normal mode of operation, I didn't feel completely prepared or in control of my own work.  Also contrary to my normal mode of operation, I somehow managed to shut off my mind and go to sleep anyway.  Through this whole experience of rapid change and a little disappointment, I've learned a few things:

1.  I've got some good people in my life.  Because my Pre-K classroom is at a daycare (even though it is public school), I could only access it for a limited number of hours in a limited number of days.  I called my mom, freaking out, and she immediately volunteered to come up with my dad to assist.  My coworker blocked out her Saturday morning to help me set up my classroom centers.  My husband and his buddies delayed their rock-climbing trip to move furniture for me.  My boss(!) even cleared her schedule and excused me from a meeting so that I had more time in my room.  I asked for support only one time, and the troops rallied immediately.  Those are fine people, y'all.

2.  Regardless of my own perception, I'm never really in control.  I had some sense of control and stability when I thought I would be teaching Pre-K all day, but ultimately nothing in this world is guaranteed.  Life can completely change in a second, and when that happens, I have to choose if I am going to let its circumstances ruin me or build me.  When texting with a friend about my particular situation, I told her that I was "trying to make lemonade," and she simply said to "make lots of it."  Attitude is the one thing that can be regulated.

3.  This year is an opportunity, not an obligation.  Yes, it is hard to completely switch gears at lunchtime.  Yes, I have twice as much preparation and paperwork to do.  Yes, I'm a little overwhelmed and a lot exhausted.  And yes, this year has tremendous potential for learning and growth.  Not only do I get to teach small children to love learning for the first time, but I am able to help struggling students believe in themselves and make strides in their education.  I can also build my own knowledge base and experiences as a professional by interacting with a wider range of age and ability levels.      

4.  "Busy" doesn't have to mean "frantic."  I often equate these words as one and the same in my mind.  Going into this year, I knew that I would need to set boundaries for myself so that I wouldn't go crazy.  I took my work email off my phone, resolved to work or read for school only after my daughter is in bed, and realized that it really is okay to leave some tasks untouched at the end of the day.  True, I do have a lot to do (I'm busy), but surprisingly, I don't feel stressed (I'm not frantic).  I do recognize that my relatively calm state of being is a gift that cannot be entirely contributed to my own formation of boundaries.  Thank you, Jesus.

As a side note about busyness, it is sometimes tempting for me to say that I am busier than most people I know and consequently to feel sorry for myself because I work full-time, am in grad school, have a family, and am training for a marathon.  This is not a correct view because, A) I chose these things so I don't get to complain, and B) Everyone is busy and overwhelmed to some extent; I'm not more or less so than anyone else.  Busyness is subjective anyway, so I don't get to compare my apples of things to do to another person's oranges.  

5.  Wherever I am at any given moment is exactly where I'm supposed to be.  I do have my thumb in several different pies at the same time, but I can choose to be "all there" for a certain experience or "not there at all."  Twenty minutes at the park with my daughter is far more valuable than two hours "with" her while she is playing with her toys and I'm responding to emails and cooking supper.

6.  Every job is important.  I often believe that, because I spend more time each day with my Pre-Kindergarteners, that job has a greater impact than my special education position in which I see small groups for only 20-30 minutes at a time.  I had an interaction with a previous student this week that reminded me otherwise.  I'll call this student Elliot.  Everyone at my school knows Elliot, and let's just say that he does not make himself known in a positive way.  I saw him for a twenty-minute fourth grade reading group every day last year.  He had zero motivation to read and always complained about coming to group, but for some reason that I can't explain or attribute to my teaching abilities, he often volunteered to read for me and engage in the activities that I wanted him to complete.  Not every day was a complete success with Elliot in my room, but there were times when the work that he did for me was the only work he finished all day. (He never pretended to be happy about it, but he did it.)  I saw Elliot when I was in the cafeteria this week, and our conversation went something like this:

E (from across the cafeteria): "Hey, Mrs. Fenrick!"
Me: "Oh hey, Elliot.  How's it going?"
E:  "Good.  Hey," (pretending to be indifferent), "are you still going to get me for reading this year?"
Me:  "No, sorry, bud."
E:  "Dang it!  Why not?"
Me:  "I'm not teaching fifth grade this year."
E:  "Aw man."
Me:  "Did you have a good summer?"
E:  "Yep," (thinks for a minute), then, "Oh yeah, how was your summer?"
Me:  "It was great.  I went to Alaska."
E:  "That's cool.  So will you be in here for lunch duty every day?"

Sure, 2.5 hours with 15 four-year-olds every day matters, but twenty minutes a day mattered to that one kid (even if he never tells me that it did).  Teaching in general matters.  Office jobs matter.  Technical jobs matter.  Machinery and construction jobs matter.  Every job is important.

Norman Public Schools calls its offsite Pre-K programs (such as the one I teach) "Bright Beginnings."  If I'm really being honest about my life this year, it's going to be a wild ride, and there are days when I wonder if I'll be able to keep my head screwed on straight.  But, just as Pre-K can be a "bright beginning" for students who have never experienced school before, I feel that this year can be a bright beginning for me.  Change is crazy, but life is good.  

After

Before

  

Daycare is not a bad place.

My daughter's last day at her childcare center was last week.  I found myself surprisingly sad on that day, even though I'm looking forward to our family's new adventures.  (For those of you who don't know, Norman Public Schools contracts some Pre-K teachers to teach at childcare centers in the city.  I have accepted a job doing this for the 2014-2015 school year.  Technically, I'll be teaching public school, but I'll be offsite, and Piper will stay next door to my classroom at the childcare center.)  So far, she has adjusted well to her new setting, but I secretly shed a few tears as we walked out the doors of the center where she has been since she was seven weeks old.

Some people see daycare as a detriment to children.  While I do not believe that every childcare center is quality or that just anyone can be trusted to care for kids who don't belong to them, I have seen first-hand that this is not the case everywhere.  Also, I am a firm believer in families carefully choosing the best, most well-informed option for their own family and realizing that their choice should not be imposed upon everyone else's family as a rule.  For our family, my daughter's daycare has been a blessing beyond what I can even describe.  Financially speaking, I need to work, and personally speaking, my work gives me a sense of fulfillment and makes me a better mom.  Our situation isn't for everyone, but having Piper just down the hall from me in trusting hands has been ideal.  She has blossomed at her center.  Her development and character are ultimately my responsibility, but her teachers have partnered with us to help her become the spunky, curious, sweet, smart, and loving one-year-old that she is.

Teaching (notice that I said teaching, not babysitting) at a childcare center requires skill.  I recently heard on the radio that the average four-year-old asks 400 questions per day.  Even though Piper doesn't ask questions (yet!), she does poop her diaper, fuss, refuse to take naps, spit her food out, destroy things, and engage in other similar sorts of mischief, as do all seven other babies in her class.  Not only are her teachers simultaneously dealing with all of this times eight, they are also teaching the children to be kind, to play with toys appropriately, and to make good choices.  At times, I am impatient with my only child.  Piper's teachers perhaps become impatient with her, too, but they do not show it to her or to any of the other babies in her class.  And people say that anyone could do their job(?!).

Though I pay for Piper's childcare, payment alone does not entitle me to quality care.  Yes, Piper's teachers are required by law to check her diaper every hour and change her when necessary.  Yes, they must make sure that their classroom never exceeds the established student-teacher ratio.  Yes, they have to feed her certain foods at given times.  They didn't have to bend over backward when Piper had a rough adjustment to my return to full-time employment in January.  They didn't have to read with her, hug her as I dropped her off the in mornings, or volunteer to babysit her outside of school hours.  They didn't have to love her.  But they did, and they did those parts for free.    

Piper will never remember Miss Barbara, Miss Sierra, Miss Shawn, Miss Kelsey, Miss Amy, Miss Ashlee, or Miss Madison, but I will.  Our family is forever indebted to these ladies who have made it possible for me to leave Piper for a few hours each day, knowing that she will be happy.  If your child attends a daycare, hug her teacher.  Daycare workers do a big job.

Piper's letter and shoes "for her new adventures" from her teacher on her last day