Tag: first grade

Lucky Number Seven

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Teacher Tales12 Comments

I got a new little boy in class a few days ago.  Correction, I got my seventh new little boy a few days ago.

First grade boys can sometimes be rubber bands of energy and they don’t always know the appropriate way to release all that energy.  So, seven new boys this year is a lot.  But to my surprise, the first six settled in nicely, fairly easily in fact.  Sure there were a few minor hiccups here and there, but overall they’re pretty great little guys.

So when I found out my seventh new boy was coming, I crossed my fingers and said a prayer.  After all, how long could my string of sweet little guys hold out?  Surely, I’d pressed my luck and was due for a tough one.

On his first day in our class, my new little boy walked into the room with his mother, his siblings and an interpreter.  His mother is deaf and my lucky number seven’s primary language is American Sign Language, followed closely by English.  The interpreter and I talked with the mother, the mother patiently put up with my finger spelling and minimal signs.  And then it was time for the mother to say goodbye to her son.

Let me tell you, my heart stopped watching that mother and son sign “I love you” to each other.  I get goosebumps just thinking about it.

I love words.  I love learning new words.  I love finding the perfect word to express a particular sentiment.  I love the way words feel in my mouth.  I love discovering unusual pairings of words.  I love the way people string words together to create a stunning turn of phrase.

In my teaching career, I’ve had two other little boys who signed.  And when they’d sign, a rush of love filled my heart as they opened their hands and released their words into our classroom.

And when Lucky Number Seven signed goodbye to his mom, I knew, I just knew, that I’d somehow managed to get another great little boy.

What I did not know is that my little ones would feel the same way, that they would be completely smitten with sign language.  Sure, we sing and sign every day.  Songs about the days of the week, the months of the year, and counting.  Rudimentary signs, at best.

But now we had an expert in our midst and at one point on his first day in our class, a crowd of children clustered around Lucky Seven’s desk.  I walked over fully expecting to have to “deal with something”, but when I got closer I heard my little ones talking to Lucky Seven saying things like, “My name is ______.  Can you teach me to sign my name?” and “How do I sign ‘brother’?  I want to say ‘I love you, brother.’  Can you show me?”

Later when we gathered on the carpet to sing and sign, all eyes were on Lucky Seven as he gracefully signed with hands blistered from too many trips across the monkey bars.  My little ones were rapt.  Their mouths hung open.  Their brows furrowed.  And to my delight, their hands mimicked his.  My little ones filled up the spaces between us with their signs.  Their words floated unseen in the very air we breathed.

In that moment, I stood still in my tracks, not wanting to miss a motion, not wanting to miss a single one of their words.

Lucky Seven thinks that I know how to sign.  My fumbling signs have fooled him enough that when we are across the room from each other, he signs to me.  Sometimes I can understand, but most of the time I have to ask him to sign more slowly or ask him to speak aloud and sign at the same time.

He’s patient and I’m learning.

I’m learning to savor the silent beauty of passing our words back and forth.  I’m learning to sign things like, “I’m glad to see you.” and “I’m proud of you.”

I imagine I’ll always think of him as my Lucky Seven, but each day he’s in our class I’m learning that I’m truly the lucky one.

Thankful Thursday #7

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Thankful Thursdays5 Comments

This week I’m thankful for…

  • the beautiful notebook a friend made for me.
  • the little boy in my classroom who was so excited about a card I’d put in his mailbox that he hugged my leg extra tight
  • Ruby Bridges for inspiring my kids to be brave
  • Martin Luther King, Jr. for giving me goosebumps every time I hear his speech
  • sheets fresh from the dryer
  • cold Saturday mornings perfect for writing in bed
  • my Words With Friends friends
  • frigid bike rides followed by scalding hot showers
  • one of my little girls, who on finding out we were getting yet another new student, said “We are the luckiest class-we always get new friends!”,  I’ve welcomed three new kids into our class within a week.  I’m going to try hard to have the same perspective as the little girl and think about how lucky I am to spend time with these new little ones.
  • the little girl in my class who, after writing pages and pages of a story, proclaimed, “Mrs. McCauley, I wrote lots of Golden Lines.”  Yes you did, little one, yes you did.
  • Terry, always Terry.

Three Wise Boys

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Teacher Tales5 Comments

Teaching is hard for me this year.

I have a wonderful bunch of kids, but the reality of increased class sizes paired with decreased aide support leaves me feeling like I’m stretched impossibly thin.  I’m not giving my students all they need, all they deserve.  Many days I go home feeling defeated, feeling like I hardly even got to talk to some of my kids, let alone teach them.

At night I lay awake thinking of all the holes I need to fill in their understanding of words and numbers.  But the holes are numerous and I am only one.

I’m giving my all this year and it’s not enough.

That is the searing truth that rumbles in the pit of my stomach and snaps my eyelids up like window shades at 2:13 in the morning.

Today was one of those days.   I woke in the small hours of the morning, trying to solve this puzzle, to put the pieces together in a new way that creates a better picture.  The solution eluded me, slipped away as the moon and sun changed guard.

I went to work exhausted.  I had a good day with my kids, they all put forth their best effort and so did I.  We are loving the nearness of Christmas and simultaneously feeling the pangs of being away from each other for two and a half weeks.

After school, I sat in my room overwhelmed by all the little tasks that had to be accomplished before I could even think about big things like lesson plans for January.

And then a familiar face poked his head in my door.

I knew this face when he was a first grader in my class a few years ago.  This face, this little boy, will have my heart forever.  This was the face of the boy who belted out his solo in our class musical and brought the house down.  He peeked in and I hugged him tight, noticing how he comes up to my armpits, remembering how he used to barely come up to my waist.  Time is such a quick bird, flying away with little children and returning them to me as adolescents.

I asked him if he’d come by to help.  Many are the children who pop in after school wanting to help, wanting a little extra time to talk.  He said he’d be happy to help and I sent him with a note to his after school care teacher.  He returned a minute later with the okay from his teacher and with another boy in tow.  This boy has the most expressive eyes.  The second boy asked if he could help, too.  Suddenly all those little tasks that were stacked up against me didn’t seem so daunting.  The second boy returned with the okay from his after school care teacher and when he returned, he brought with him a third boy.  The third boy was another former student, a boy with a sensitive spirit and impish dimples.  These three boys set about sharpening pencils, filing, cleaning my boards, washing dishes, and while they worked, they talked.

They talked about all the things we did when they were in first grade.  About the Mr. Bear Crime Scene Investigation unit.  About the leprechaun who left tiny green footprints all over our desks and turned our milk green.  About the pleasure of choosing a book out of the Santa sack.  About our 100th day Olympics.  About the piles and piles of books we’d written.

“We really had some great times together, didn’t we?”  I smiled at them.  “I’d forgotten about a lot of those things.”

And then the boy who will always have my heart said “Maybe we should write you a list of all the fun things we did so you’ll remember them and remember to do them with your class.”

“I’d like that.  I’d like that a lot.”  And that’s the truth.  Because somewhere this year I’ve let myself only see my failures.  I’d lost sight of some of the magic, some of the sparkle of teaching young children.

Half an hour later, all the little jobs were finished.  As were my lesson plans for the next month.  I hugged these three angel boys and told them that their help had been the best Christmas gift.  Then the boy who’d belted out a solo so many years ago told me he’d see me tomorrow at the school sing-a-long because he was in the choir.

“I always knew you were a singer.”  I grinned.

“I remember you telling me that.”  he replied.  And in that moment, we were both so full, so content with memories of our year together.

Before they left, one boy asked if he could have one of the pencils they’d sharpened.  And so I paid them each with a brand new pencil, such a small price to pay for the important lessons they taught me today.

Image from beaktweets.blogspot.com

Five Golden Rings

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Christmas, Letters to GrammaLeave a comment

Dear Gramma,

The other day when my little ones were lining up to go to lunch, I asked if they wanted to sing a Christmas song on the way to the cafeteria.  We sang Jingle Bells and then one of my little ones asked if we could sing “that one about the 12 things”.

My voice caught in my throat and not a single word cracked out.

I stood thinking about singing The 12 Days of Christmas at your house and always hoping, wishing, crossing my fingers that I would get the card that said “Five Golden Rings”.  It was my favorite line.  I could only imagine enough golden rings to slide on all the fingers of one hand.  I remember you singing that line in your best warbling Baptist church vibrato.  Your singing voice always made me giggle.

As I stood there watching my little ones pull their jackets on and grab their lunch boxes, I spun the gold ring on my right hand, the one my mom gave me from your trip to Greece together.  It is carved with the Greek symbol for eternity.  We walked to lunch singing and when we got to the part about the golden rings, I sang through the lump in my throat my voice trembling each time until I got to those four calling birds.

Christmas is a hard time to be apart from you.  The tree, the music, the decorations, the food-it all reminds me of you.  Those memories are so sweet.  And I’m thankful for all of them.  I just wish you were here to make more.

But then I turn the ring on my finger and remember that this season, when I am singing of the Christ come to Earth, you are singing with Him for eternity, singing in your best Baptist church vibrato.

I can’t think of a sound I’d like to hear more.

Come sing to me in my dreams, Gramma.  Come sing to me about the Christ come to Earth.  Sing to me about eternity.  Sing to me about Heaven where five golden rings are a mere drop in the bucket.

Love,

Alicia

Little Star Girl

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Letters, Teacher TalesLeave a comment

Dear Little One,

You are amazing.

Today you told the class a story of a little boy and a little girl who put on magical star-shaped glasses.  When they put the glasses on, they became twinkle stars in the sky.  Their mothers spent the day looking for them everywhere, but their children were nowhere to be found.  That night the mothers looked into the sky and wished on a star that their children would return home.  When the mothers made the wish, the little boy and girl became shooting stars.  The fell back to Earth and landed in the arms of their mothers.

Little one, I am amazed at your ability to invent such a creative, magical, poignant story.  As I click away at my own story this month, I am inspired by you.

I hope you heard me, really heard me, when I told you what an amazing storyteller you are.  Just in case you didn’t, I’m going to tell you again tomorrow.  And the next day.  And the next day.  And all the days after that.

And tonight when I look up at the stars and think about things I’m thankful for, you are going to be at the top of my list, Little Star Girl.

Love you bunches,

Mrs. McCauley