Category: Teacher Tales

Laugh and cry along with me as I spin true tales from room 8.

LOVE

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Writing Project6 Comments

 

The famous LOVE statue in Philadelphia was not what I’d expected.  The fountain was dried up and the corners of its mouth overflowed with wads of garbage.  I went to see the love piece three different times during my stay in Philadelphia, hoping each time to glimpse the fountain fanning cool sheets of water behind the crimson letters, hoping my meager photographic skills would capture just the right angle, just the right light.

Each click of the camera left me struck by the clusters of homeless men and the occasional homeless woman living in the park so known for its proclamation of love.  They were huddled in masses of faded grays and browns on the park benches and against the corners of statues of somebody historic, I’m sure.  It was not the background I’d hoped for my storybook photo of love.  Some men zipped themselves into sleeping bag cocoons and others flung their words at each other, their anger knifing the air and making me quicken my pace as I walked by.

Writing those words I’m ashamed because that’s what I did.

I just walked by.

I, the pious seeker of the perfect picture of love, just walked by, sometimes with a prickle of fear shimmying down my spine and a look of pity angling down my nose.  Not once did I stop to offer my gloves, or the few dollars wrinkled in my wallet, or the coat that usually hangs stuffed amongst many in my closet.  I went looking for love and I missed it.  I missed it completely.

I dream about the LOVE statue and in my dreams I am the kinder, more compassionate version of myself, the version I wish I was in my waking hours.  In my dreams I cock my head at the same angle as the crooked O atop the E.  I tilt my head and ponder the statue, ponder what it means to really love.  I wake and my neck twinges with pain from all my dreaming.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and desperately hope I don’t miss the opportunity to love again today.

This I Believe: 1-100

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Alicia Writes, The Junk Drawer, Writing Project6 Comments

My husband is the  consummate list maker.  He leaves himself a ‘To Do List’ each day before leaving work.  He delights in listing the best songs, best athletes, best movies, etc.

Me?

I’ve never been a list maker.  I write a grocery list and that’s it.  Even then I always manage to forget to buy at least one thing.

That is until last July when I became aware of a little boy who wrote his 100 beliefs for the 100th day of school.  I don’t agree with all of his beliefs, nor do I expect you to agree with all of mine.  What I do agree with is thinking hard about what I believe.  So I began tapping away at the keyboard, writing my own beliefs one line at a time.

The first thirty or so were easy, jumbling out in a quick rush.  The next thirty took some time, appearing in handfuls and pairs.  The last forty took, well, months.  I’d write one every once in a while, sometimes stopping at the words ‘I believe’ followed by bouts of blank staring.

I found myself deleting beliefs if my actions did not align with the words.  If I wasn’t living something, how could I claim to believe it?  On days when I was the better version of myself, instead of deleting the belief, I’d delete the action that didn’t fit.

I typed and then erased duplicates, relieved to know that I believed something at least enough to think of it on more than one occasion.

I carried this project with me and found my beliefs in the most unexpected places.  In the car, in the shower, on airplanes, on the couch, in my classroom, in the grocery store, in bathrooms, in dreams, in waiting rooms, and even on the playground.  I’d scavenge the depths of my purse for an old receipt and a pen, scratching out my beliefs at stoplights and checkstands.  I’d leave them on my answering machine and scrawl fragments in my bedside notebook.

Four months and 100 beliefs later, I’m surprised and content in the knowledge that there is so much to believe in.

Here is my list.

Read it.  Curse it.  Applaud it.

Whatever your reaction, when you reach the end, sit down and start a list of your own.  Discover yourself in the most unexpected places.  Discover unexpected parts of you in the most regular of places.  It will impact your life in compelling ways.  This I believe.

This I Believe

1) I believe God is good.

2) I believe my husband’s love is real.

3) I believe the written word is a living, powerful thing.

4) I believe truth is truth and it cannot be manipulated or changed.

5) I believe all people have the capacity to love.

6) I believe all people can learn.

7) I believe in the sanctity of marriage.

8. I believe in being a good steward of the planet.

9) I believe people should read every day.

10) I believe riding my bike helps me see beauty.

11) I believe I am responsible for helping the sick.

12) I believe in protecting children.

13) I believe in honesty.

14) I believe that time is my most valuable resource.

15) I believe I am a writer.

16) I believe in actively seeking peace.

17) I believe in thinking before speaking.

18) I believe in healing.

19) I believe people should smile at each other more often.

20) I believe in equality.

21) I believe that each day is precious.

22) I believe people should own fewer things.

23) I believe in buying books.

24) I believe people should go outside more.

25) I believe there are a lot of good books waiting to be written.

26) I believe in miracles.

27) I believe in Heaven and Hell.

28) I believe giving is better than receiving.

29) I believe that a drink of clean water helps almost everything.

30) I believe in saying what I mean and meaning what I say.

31) I believe life is full of humor.

32) I believe in taking naps.

33) I believe in being organized.

34) I believe joy comes in the morning.

35) I believe alcohol and tobacco are drugs.

36) I believe in examining the heart of my desires, instead of examining the desires of my heart.

37) I believe in focusing less on being right and more on doing good.

38) I believe playtime is important.

39) I believe in strength of heart.

40) I believe in eating with friends.

41) I believe age is just a number.

42) I believe God created the universe.

43) I believe home cooked is better than store-bought.

44) I believe in buying produce from the Farmers Market.

45) I believe in the underdog.

46) I believe the taking of life is the responsibility of God, not of man.

47) I believe people should not own guns.

48) I believe the Bible is the Word of God.

49) I believe in living drug free.

50) I believe “Thank you.” is a valid response to “I love you.”

51) I believe everyone has a story.

52) I believe love is a choice.

53) I believe the Holy Spirit lives in me.

54) I believe prayer is a conversation with God.

55) I believe some weeds are more beautiful than flowers.

56) I believe death is not the end.

57) I believe I am called to teach.

58) I believe breast milk is baby’s best first food.

59) I believe in laughing often.

60) I believe the book is usually better than the movie.

61) I believe in right and wrong.

62) I believe yelling never helps reach a resolution.

63) I believe anger can be a catalyst for change.

64) I believe a fetus is a baby and a baby is a life.

65) I believe in singing every day.

66) I believe joy is independent of circumstance.

67) I believe in staying up late and sleeping in during the summer.

68) I believe cuddling under a blanket is better than turning on the heater.

69) I believe in angels.

70) I believe in sharing ideas.

71) I believe I have a lot to learn.

72) I believe people should focus less on looking for the right person and more on being the right person.

73) I believe parenting is the most difficult and most important job.

74) I believe in asking questions.

75) I believe grief has many faces.

76) I believe my actions can help or harm and the choice is mine.

77) I believe ability is the most important part of ‘disability’.

78) I believe I have not been given a spirit of fear,

79) I believe in delegating.

80) I believe I am an important part of my community.

81) I believe in daily quiet time.

82) I believe children should be taught big concepts and big words.

83) I believe in voting.

84) I believe truth is stranger than fiction and also much easier to write!

85) I believe people should travel as often as possible.

86) I believe in gathering stories from previous generations.

87) I believe research is critical in pre-writing.

88) I believe taking a deep breath is good in all circumstances.

89) I believe in writing small.

90) I believe a good cry is necessary sometimes.

91) I believe in tithing.

92) I believe people who are unhappy at work should change jobs or change their attitude.

93) I believe worship is in daily life.

94) I believe my marital vows.

95) I believe healthcare is a basic human right.

96) I believe actions speak louder than words.

97) I believe God still speaks through visions and dreams.

98) I believe depression is an illness.

99) I believe great generosity begets rich blessing.

100) I believe my life is a gift.

Pouring Eyes

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Teacher TalesLeave a comment

This week I started reading “Charlotte’s Web” to my class.  Year after year I marvel at E.B. White’s word choice.  His phrasing leaves me in awe.  It’s so rich that I often stop and read sentences over again, savoring the words like a lump of dark chocolate on my tongue.

From a young age I’ve been a collector of words.  I’m constantly listening for snippets of interesting conversation.  My ears stand at attention for striking word combinations.  A plastic spelling trophy along with stacks of journals brimming with angst filled teenage poetry are evidence of my history as a wordie.

I delight in helping my students collect and add words to their budding writing arsenal.  A couple of days ago, I was discussing Charlotte’s Web with one student in particular.  She was hopping around, sheets of sunset colored hair bouncing, telling me how excited she was to read the book because the movie was so good.  I prepared to launch into my creed on why the book is always better than the movie and how if she liked the movie, then she’ll love the book, etc., when this little pixie left me speechless.

The day before a huge storm had rolled in.  It was the kind of storm with lightning that razors the sky in two, the kind of storm with raindrops that smash against windowpanes, the kind of storm that requires me to turn the lights low and read “Thundercake” by Patricia Polacco.

If you’ve ever had the pleasure of reading anything Patricia Polacco’s put on paper, then you know you are in the presence of a magician who turns letters into words into phrases that leave me begging for more.

The storm and the book inspired a torrent of weather poetry in Writers’ Workshop.  Words like poured and rumbled and struck fell out of their mouths onto the pages.  It was delicious.

So as I took a deep breath to deliver my sermon on books vs. movies, this little girl stopped bouncing and from behind her auburn tresses said

I loved the movie because it was such a good story it made my eyes pour.

And there it was.

It made my eyes pour.

My ears pricked up at her poignant pairing of words.

This six-year-old reached back into our weather words, grabbed one out, pitched it into another context, and encapsulated just the right emotion.

She assures me she won’t cry during the book because she already knows it’s sad.  Me?  I make no such claim.  E.B. White’s stunning writing has caused me to brush away more than a tear or two, mostly when his words slowly begin appearing in the writing of my young wordies.

Robot Teacher

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Teacher Tales2 Comments

Years ago when my little heart was all aflutter, and not in the good way, I had to wear a heart monitor to school.  I did my best to cover up all the receptors stickied to my chest, but the wires hanging down from the monitor were harder to keep tucked away.  I didn’t want to alarm my little students, so I went about the day teaching while my heart ticked away on the monitor.  A couple of kids noticed the wires and asked what they were.  I pacified them with simple answers like “wires” or “oh, nothing” and kept on teaching.  These dismissive answers did not satisfy Ethan.

Ethan was a stick of a boy with a heart of gold.  He was quiet and thought carefully before he spoke.  In a small voice he questioned what the inside of a chrysalis looked like when a caterpillar is becoming a butterfly.  Another day he asked me how much gravity weighed.  He was the kind of kid who lost a tooth and then looked at it through a magnifying glass to see what teeth were made of.  So, when he saw wires sticking out from under my shirt, our conversation went something like this:

“Mrs. McCauley, what are those?”

“Wires.”

“Wires to what?”

“Ethan, it’s really nothing.”

“Wires don’t usually go to nothing.  What do they connect to?”

“Can we talk about this later, Ethan?”

I’d hoped he’d forget all about it, but, no, not Ethan.  Later that day, as I crouched down, helping another student, Ethan sidled up next to me, fingering the wires.  He gave them a gentle tug and was shocked to discover they were attached to me.  I didn’t say a word, smiling because I could see his wheels turning.

The next morning as I prepared for the day in the quiet of the classroom Ethan arrived insistent on knowing what these wires were for.

“Mrs. McCauley, what are those wires?  Where do they go?”

Here’s where I got creative and cemented this kid’s future need for therapy.

“Well, Ethan, I’m a robot and my wires are coming loose.  I have to go in to get repaired.”

“You’re not a robot…are you?”

Leaning down so we were face to face, in my most staccato robot voice, I replied

“I am robot 413 in need of repair.  Do you have any tools?”

Ethan stared at me wide-eyed, jaw agape.  Other students filed in, ending our conversation.  As the day went on, I answered all of Ethan’s questions in a quiet robotic tone.

As the last kid hurried out the door, I dialed Ethan’s mom.  I explained the real reason for the monitor and then told her about the joke I’d played on Ethan.  Her sense of humor was as twisted as mine and, to my delight, she played along!  The rest of my conversations with Ethan that year were peppered with robot talk and more than once I saw Ethan checking for loose wires.

Today I sat in the cardiologist’s office, dismayed to be on this road again.  Dismayed to add another EKG to the stack.  Dismayed at the idea of going on heart medication again.  Dismayed at the fact that I have to wear a heart monitor for a couple of days.  Terry, always trying to make me feel better, halted my grumblings by pointing out one bright spot.

“Well, at least you might get to convince another kid you’re a robot.”

Crooked-Mouthed Kitty

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Teacher Tales2 Comments

Friday afternoon I opened my classroom to my incoming students and their parents.  I met 16 of my new families and am touched by the fact that they took time out of their day to stop in.

A few minutes into the meet and greet one of my little girls reached in her pocket and pulled out a kitty cat face made of beads.  She said “I made it for you.  Its mouth is crooked.”  I smiled and replied “I like it better that way.”

And it’s true, I do like it better that way.  The lopsided grin gives this cat a mischievous look, like it just swallowed a bird.  (And you know I like anything that eats birds!)  I put a magnet on the back of the kitty face and stuck it on my filing cabinet where the girl is sure to notice it Monday morning.

I couldn’t get this little cat face out of my mind all weekend.  I’m not really a cat person, so it took me awhile to figure out why this plastic kitty was stuck in my head.  Then it hit me-it’s not perfect.  The imperfection is what makes it interesting, quirky even.  The juxtaposition of the otherwise cheery cat with a big smirk amuses me.

The same is true for my students.  The little things that make them unique are the things I treasure the most.  The kid who accidentally cut my hair, the kid who fell out of his chair more times than either of us could count, even the kid who shouted out curse words when he was excited-all of them hold a place in my heart because they weren’t perfect.  They were delightfully unique.

Tomorrow, with a stomach of butterflies, I’ll begin a new year of teaching.  A new year of learning from my students.  A new year of learning about them, finding out what it is that makes them inimitable.  Every now and then I’ll catch a glimpse of my precious crooked-mouthed kitty and I’ll smirk right back, happy with the knowledge that imperfection is a wonderful thing.