I feel like I need to get this off my chest before I can really write another post celebrating and reflecting.
Around this time of year, there is no shortage of social media posts encouraging people to look back at the last year for proof of their value. Like somehow life is expected to be on this ever upward trend of accomplishments and happiness, or worse, that only the positive and uplifting moments of our life should be celebrated. Only this year, there is the added pressure of leaving a decade behind. There are posts celebrating "then versus now" and "the top nine." It feels like a lot of pressure to look back a decade or even a year and judge yourself based on your accomplishments or lack thereof, doesn't it? A decade ago I was married with kids living at home. I was a student and new teacher. I was a different person for sure, but how do I compare who I was with who I am. Because let's be real, sometimes, I am thrilled I survive a Wednesday. There are Fridays after a particularly rough week that I crawl in bed after work with cookies and Netflix. If I took an honest inventory, I could say there are weeks and months when I simply, exist. There are wide open spaces in my life filled with routine and nothing spectacular or noteworthy. There are times I feel like I don't make a difference. There are times when I fail, flounder, lose my temper, make counterproductive decisions, and lose sight of my goals and even myself. I even get caught up in the miserable let's compare lives dance that social media can pull you into. And there are times when I feel my best is crawling and clawing for every move forward. More than anything with this post, I want those who struggle to find their worth and see their value to be able to peer through my window. I hope it helps you keep perspective in assigning worth. I hope you see that life isn't measured in how life looks now or by how many positive images you can find on social media. It isn't as clean as a balance sheet of positives and negatives. It isn't about making promises to start the new year and condemning the "old you." You aren't in a race or competition with those around you. Some years you end in a better place, and some years you don't see it's better (or on the path to better) until much later. Further, you are the one who assigns the values to the attributes of mother, student, daughter, traveler, homebody, and roles in your life. Your journey is uniquely yours while being delicately intertwined in countless stories. Keep sharing the golden moments and painting that masterpiece that is your life because we are optimistic creatures. Keep shining in all your moments, and finding the right place for all those moments in your story. Just remember that optimism means we can keep the negative moments and characteristics in their place as learning tools, goal material, and springboards instead of letting them serve as an overarching definition of who we are. You are amazing. You are enough. You inspire others. You in any decade is a win for all of us.
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This season has been incredibly busy, and honestly, I have enjoyed most of it. From connecting with classrooms in my old district to watching the wonder on children's faces as I first read The Polar Express and then handed them their own silver bell, my heart has delighted in the moments of joy and happiness. Yesterday I was supposed to travel to Gävle, Sweden, to see Gävlebocken, an enormous Christmas goat that is erected every year and left on display for the entire season. Instead I am sipping ramen and fighting a fever. For teachers, it is like your brain, through sheer force of will, holds your body in check until it is sure winter break has started. I envision a Wall Street ticker type device then sending the message...permission granted for full system shutdown, I repeat, full system shutdown. And in true teacher thinking, I'll take being sick on a break to writing sub plans. Our last day of school before break was Friday, and really it was three hours, not a full day, but it was magical. First, I let the kids wear pajamas or comfy clothes to school. You would think I was giving them the moon on a string. They talked about it the whole week! When they arrived in my classroom, I told them that I was going to share a favorite book of mine, but first we had to open our presents. The present had a pair of socks, a candy cane, a bag of golden coins, and a golden ticket to The Polar Express inside. When I said they could go shoe-less and wear just their new socks, the squeals started. When I told them the golden ticket meant they could get a cup of hot cocoa and pepperkake, they were hugging each other and running, giggling, to line up. They munched contentedly on cookies and sipped cocoa that left little mustaches on their lips as I read. Our kindness elf, who had been on a secret mission to the North Pole, was sitting on my desk with tiny silver bells on strings hanging from his arm. They wondered aloud if Alex had been on a mission to get bells from the North Pole. Watching their faces as we talked about bells from Santa's sleigh becoming their own was all I had been missing in teaching bundled into one small moment in time. There were plenty of moments of craziness and silliness, especially when the moms came with snacks and gift exchanges, but everyone left smiling. They even got to see how their teacher reacted to hot cocoa spilled on the rug. This was among the most powerful of moments in the short day. Maybe some of you are wondering why this matters, but trust me, kids need to see an adult's reaction to events like this to solidify their opinion of you. After the first spill, I explained that I had expected that maybe an accident would happen and that it was just fine. I cleaned the rug and said, "See, you can barely tell." I then hugged the 'spiller' and checked if they had enough cocoa left. The second spill was huge and went all over three desks. I quickly jumped to action and asked a student to throw me a towel. I handed items to students with instructions to clean or put it to a safe place. One student was tapping me on my hip, and I calmly said, "As soon as I have the cocoa under control I can help you, but right now I need you to wait for me." When I declared the mess officially "all cleaned up" and shrugged my shoulders to say accidents happen while smiling, you could see the breath of relaxation escape the tight grip of the student that knocked the cup over. When I made a new cup of cocoa for the child whose cup had been tipped, she knew her value to me. THAT, those moments, is why it is important. In those moments some students will decide your trustworthiness, your importance, their importance, and your reaction can set the course of the relationship. My own mother was quick to scream and punish, and I grew up learning to hide mistakes and to seek perfection at all cost. I learned from her that mistakes were not learning experiences, and that if I did make a mistake, I could not seek help or advice from her. Most importantly, I learned from her that I did not want any child to feel that way about me. Often in my classes I speak to the power of mistakes, celebrate mistakes as learning, claim my own mistakes openly, and try to never overreact to situations that impact how a child will handle mistakes around me. I don't always succeed in this, but I hope that over the years, I've been on the right side more often than the wrong side. I apply this thinking to student hugs, pictures, and fresh picked "flowers" as well. These expressive gifts from them are something they can give at any time, without needing parental help, to express love and gratitude. I fawn over pictures and flowers, and I let those clinging hugs linger until the child pulls away. I never know if that hug is the only one the student will get that day. I never know if that hug might change their attitude that day. I always know that it is full of love. There were surprises left for me that day too. A few students brought me the cute handmade items that all teachers secretly look forward to. One of my middle school students gave me a pair of handmade wool gloves. A mom that had really been struggling with the system told me her child felt safe in my class and that she was so happy they had been given me as her first teacher. One mother and student that I have been pouring a lot of energy into gave me a beautiful necklace with a note that said, "Thank you for everything you are doing for our children. I understand my child is not an easy kid, but I already see the difference your effort made on him." (I'm not crying, you're crying.) All of the parents in my class put together a gift for me that they called "Norwegian Christmas in a Box." It is a fantastic collection of Norwegian treats that I cannot wait to share with Brad. Choosing a favorite gift of the day would be impossible, but one that really stands out to me is a drawing from a student who started the year scribbling circles on ANY paper I would put in front of him. He is a bundle of energy and curiosity that reminds me of my own son. He plays hard and loves harder. You and me, Benjamin. You and me.
Find your joy, give the 20 second hugs, and find your Benjamin. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone. When I teach middle school English, this is my view. Since it is late fall, I can watch the sunrise over the city. On Wednesdays, I can hear the excited squeals and watch the frantic energy of my first graders racing around the playground. Today I simply had to lean out and take a panoramic photo. (Yes, I said lean out. The windows open fully, and there are no screens like in the states.) Sometimes I feel a bit pollyanna-ish when I speak about my experiences here because I claim joy in the little things. I've made a concerted effort to search out the positive in this experience because I arrived with a struggling teacher heart. I'm determined to fall in love with teaching again, and I'm finding it easier than I thought.
My last teaching position provided me amazing experiences and fantastic colleagues. The learning and teacher professional development was like none I had experienced. Honestly, I felt like I might have found a forever home in Andover. But teaching is hard work in the best of places, and if there is a piece of support missing, it is usually the teacher that absorbs the extra pressure and weight of that missing piece. In the last year of teaching in that district, my class population faced huge issues for ten year olds. There was a physically and mentally abused child finding comfort in forcing that pain onto their classmates. Two students facing issues that left them crying for comfort by cutting and calling the suicide hotline. A student whose forced maturity meant they were wading unmonitored into social media resulting in receiving nude photos from an adult. The conversations with parents, and students on my sacrificed lunch breaks, were heartrending and lacking traction to effect change. These worries can't just be packed neatly in a briefcase to await the next board meeting. I was carrying this reality everywhere. Daily I worried what I would face in class that would strip away our chance at addressing academic standards. The life raft I was clinging to, teacher led school redesign, was hijacked by leadership leaving teachers confused, unappreciated, and divided. The view of the playground I had enjoyed from my window was replaced by a brick wall on the new addition that mirrored the view from my heart of isolation and unrelenting pressure to be a bastion of strength. I was subsidizing this job with my mental health, and it became a cost I was unwilling to continue to pay. I set down the mantle because I needed a new view. To some it might seem like running away or rushing into an experience I know nothing about, but I took the leap to teach internationally hoping a change of scenery would help me gain perspective in my view. All this isn't to say I don't grapple with issues here because I do. There are some universal truths in teaching; students struggle; behavior issues steal instructional time; documentation is a quagmire; and there is no tired like teacher tired. There is never enough planning time, but that view comes with an office outside of my classroom which mentally and physically separates teaching from planning. Right now, a new student is struggling to match his peers' English levels, but the view includes another teacher on my team to help advocate and intervene. The behaviors I have been correcting and documenting have left me so overwhelmed that I emailed the head of school to tell him I was feeling exhausted, but that view includes a supportive email from the head of school telling me how well I was doing and offering to personally handle the behaviors until Christmas. The set of reports I just finished included sixteen pages of comments plus learning outcomes for my first graders, and the results of 38 end of term tests that included reading comprehension, grammar, and essay sections. I feel busier than a broom sweeping a dirt floor, but the view includes two curriculum supervisors who guide the process and double check my work. On a weekly basis, I collaborate with grade level colleagues for my first grade class and middle school English. Once a month the grade level teachers of all three schools in our group hold a video conference. All elementary teachers gather on Tuesdays, and all middle school teachers meet on Mondays. The entire staff assembles on Wednesdays. I mention these meetings because I know that my view will never include isolation. I won't sugar coat this and say teaching in this school is a perfect experience free of stress and frustrations. There are issues that remain unresolved due to being a startup school with a new staff, but that view comes with hope and a shared vision from the other schools. My view has changed dramatically. Rather than experiencing the educational process from the foundation and carrying the weight of the system on my shoulders, I'm a keystone in the school structure providing stability but completely supported by the structure of the educational process. The reflective side of me wants to know how I share this with other teachers. Without a doubt, there are many teachers feeling the strain, weight, and pressure of teaching. Teaching is one of those professions that appears simple to those that have never faced the challenges that come with stepping into a classroom. The existence of heightened challenges is even reflected in my contract. As a homeroom teacher I receive a bonus simply for filling the position. This simplistic view of teaching breaks my heart because teachers are some of the strongest, fiercest members of society. The ownership and responsibility they assume for students and duty is boundless and inspiring. I am proud to be part of that tribe of warriors. Still...Is it the new country? New curriculum and grade level? A renewed effort to gain perspective? My best estimation is a combination of all of it. I guess I don't have answers today, but I know I want this new view feeling for every teacher I care about. The one truth secure in my mind and heart is that I feel more valued than ever, and in my view, that is priceless. Today was a great day to explore the Sarpsborg Julemarked (Christmas Market). Don't let the sun fool you, it was 2:30 when I went. The best way to describe it is part craft show, part carnival, all family fun. Trees in bright red barrels lined the sidewalk leading to the park. When I arrived, I watched a team of huskies pull a boy in a cart down a hill and out of sight just as a wagon pulled by a beautiful black horse rounded the corner sounding of jingle bells and children's laughter. The air smelled of firewood and sausages, and the atmosphere crackled with excitement. Small wooden buildings housed merchants selling wares that ranged from fresh laid eggs to lovingly crafted Christmas decorations. My first thought was how these are the same people that stand meters apart at the bus stop, but it was quickly replaced with awe and curiosity. I mingled in the crowds and slogged through mud and pine branches soaking in the sights, sounds, and smells. Wool blankets lined benches pulled close to fire pits giving a cozy feel to the open air market. Santa, complete with a bag bulging with gifts, pushed his way through the crowd followed closely by a throng of chattering children reaching and grabbing at his coat and bag. As I wandered through the maze of people and shops, I noticed a small petting zoo with llamas and a miniature horse. There were shops selling handcrafted sweaters, gloves, and hats and some selling handcrafted wood items. There was one stand selling nativity scenes made with olive branches from Jerusalem. Candle holders, stained glass, and wool boots enticed shoppers to linger. The sight of cotton candy surprised me, but was like a small glimpse of home. A bright spot was finding this year's ornaments for my boys. I have been looking for an ornament for the yearly tradition and landed on a blue Christmas globe that says, "Stolt Sarpsborg". In the end, I was able to resist the hand crafted, pine tree nisse that were silently begging for a new home. All in all, it was a beautiful slice of Norwegian culture. Who knows I might even go back tomorrow.
I was really hoping that today I would be singing the praises of a wonderful American Thanksgiving dinner. The third grade teacher and I took a little trek to Fredrikstad to see the opening of the Christmas market and to have dinner. We missed the official tree lighting, but we got to see some cute little stands set up to sell wares. Definitely going back to see more. The cafe we went to advertised a traditional American Thanksgiving meal. Really, I was just hoping for a piece of pumpkin pie, the rest was bonus. The food wasn't bad, but it made me miss cooking a big dinner. Plus, my food was ..gasp..TOUCHING. A highlight of last week was going to a store called Plantasjen. I ordered some items through an online store, and when it arrived it was delivered to the post office for my address. The post offices here are inside stores, and it is really convenient. Letters are mailed directly to a home, but you have to pick up your own packages. Plantasjen displays Christmas like a male bird looking for a mate. Poinsettias are glittered, Christmas trees are lit, and arrangements of all sizes are ready to go home. Unlike in the states, Mariah Carey is not wailing in the background. There is no background music in the shops at any time. I find this relaxing, and I might just end up enjoying some Christmas music this year since it isn't being crammed in my ears everywhere. Anyway, that is how I ended up with my "Christmas tree" and the extra little nisse. This past week, I worked the first Thanksgiving I have ever worked. It was weird to think about all of my friends back home spending the day cooking and enjoying the day with family while I was teaching. At the end of the day, one of my student's grandfathers came to my classroom and gave me pumpkin bread. He told me he thought I might be missing home and hoped that the treat would help. I ended up having a salmon dinner for Thanksgiving. Meanwhile, winter weather and early sunsets have indeed arrived. One night on my walk home, I ended up taking one of those cartoon-ish, feet-out-from-under-you falls in the middle of the street. So I found myself some boot spikes, and now I feel much safer on my walks. I walk to school nearly everyday, and I even take walks in the evenings to keep myself from holing up in my apartment. I'm attempting to embrace the celebration of the outdoors that is the Norwegian way of life. A friend once asked what Norwegians do to combat the depressing feel of early sunsets, and the answer is they go outside and they celebrate light. On several of these walks I have seen light celebrations from art displays to a Christmas parade where children and adults were marching down the main street with burning sticks. Even houseplants have a light to help them flourish. There is no doubt that Kansas sunsets are some of the most gorgeous anywhere, but I would say some of these Norwegian sunsets are giving them a run for their money. The deep, dark oranges and the rosy, light reds are amazing and they seem to engulf the entire horizon. Unfortunately, I have not been able to get a picture that really does the sunset justice. Now that December has started in first grade, I am remembering how much you do with the little folks that you don't with the big ones. I've already downloaded the Holidays around the World resources! There is a golden lining in all of this, I am teaching a six week unit called How We Express Ourselves, specifically through play. Let me say that again...for six weeks, we will be playing, imagining, and pondering how creative thinking and imagination help us learn. We are going to invent games and toys. We are going to play for homework. We are going to play to learn math and English. We will create art from 'trash' and re-imagine regular items as something new. I might even be giddy. Today I told my students that the Head of School had decided that students really don't learn when they play, so he is thinking about doing away with play unless PYP1 can prove that we do learn while we play. They are determined to keep play in school! But Ms. Hill we played a clock game to learn to tell time! But Ms. Hill we learn taking turns and manners when we play games! But Ms. Hill we learned to spell from singing! So. many. Buts. I also broke down and got..sigh..an elf on the shelf. However, this elf will be a kindness elf. He is going to give a daily kindness challenge and report to Santa and Ms. Hill. He is not going to be doing naughty things because lord knows we have enough antics in this classroom! Bring on December. I've got this. |
Nellie HillJust a woman leaping outside her comfort zone and telling the tale. Archives
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