I'm always scouring blogs, articles, etc. for ideas of how to make life easier for my special education students in their regular ed classes. They struggle, oh how they struggle. Even when they are motivated and want to learn and excel, the content is often difficult for them to comprehend, the course moves at a pace too quickly for their processing speed, and they simply cannot keep up.

When I read Response: Celebrating our Students' Good Writing today, I was excited about the ideas tossed around by Mary Tedrow, one of my favorite writing teacher gurus.  Her WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW idea struck me as a YES WE CAN WRITE opportunity for my kids, as well as other struggling students.

Now to pitch it to their 'regular teachers' in a package they will buy.

The idea is painfully simple:

• Lecture for a short time (Tedrow suggests 5-9 minutes. I would go with the number of minutes per grade level - 7 minutes for 7th graders, 8 for 8th, etc..Research shows that is a fair indication of how long students should be able to sustain attention without needing a transition.)
• Now, students write what they just learned. (WOW! Instead of trying to write while someone is talking, you LISTEN?? What a powerful thought!)
• After allowing time to write the new information, students share with partner. (I would love to see my kids partnered with strong students who would have great note-taking skills to share.)
• Then, come together as a whole group to clear up misconceptions, and have one more reinforcement of ideas.

It sounds a bit time consuming, but imagine... in reality, you have taught, students have had independent processing time, collaboration time, and review time, all in one quick activity.

Would it work? I can see some potential drawbacks:

• Some students  may not be able to remember what they heard, so they will be contributing little to their partner in the pair/share time. (hmmm.... I guess it will be a learning process, and hopefully, as time goes by, and the process becomes more automatic for them, they will be able to contribute at least something. Perhaps with an adult guiding the individual sharing time, allowing the struggling student to share first?)
• Some students may think - well, I will just get the info from my partner and write it then. (To this, I would suggest close teacher monitoring during writing time could help this.)

It comes back to the theory of intentional teaching, teaching students to learn. We expect them to TAKE NOTES, but do we ever give them strategies for learning to take notes?

This activity serves a dual purpose. 1.Writing, writing, writing - writing what you know.. 2. Intentional teaching of note-taking strategies.

The swearer and I had another.. well, make that ANOTHER... little heart to heart today. He admitted he lets the F-bomb fly just to get to go home.

Then...... he wrote his paper for language arts class. The assignment was to write about a problem you've had and how you solved it. He wrote about his swearing, and how is teacher (ME!! 'mrs goerge') is helping him with him.

*sigh*

Somedays it DOES pay to get out of bed and plod my way here.

Once in a while.... they remind me why I love them.

So there's this kid.....

He swears. The F-bomb. Anytime he gets frustrated.

F-bomb = suspension.

Perfect solution for him.

I am tired of him getting suspended, but not sure how to solve the problem.

Today, the wireless on his netbook wouldn't work. NO biggie, really. He had a paper due that did NOT require him to be online, but the lack of wireless was a huge stresser for him. I tried to fix it, I did. But no luck. He is not the only student I have, and certainly not the only student I have who needs attention, immediate attention, constant attention.

So... after giving it my all to fix his un-needed internet connection, I told him he would just have to turn in his netbook to be checked, and that for now, he could just type his paper. BAM! F-$%^&*(

The frustrations I have are....

    #1 I cannot just choose to ignore. That opens the door for ALL of them to swear at will.
    #2 He knows F-$%^&*( = a suspension so when something doesn't go his way, swearing gets him out of doing the task at hand.
     #3 Suspension leads to more frustration on his part. He misses classes, doesn't do the work he misses, so he gets further behind, and becomes more frustrated with school.
    #4 He comes back apologetic, contrite, and promising not to do it again. He admits his responsibility. He seems to want to be more responsible. He seems to want to try. But as soon as the road gets rocky. BAM. F-$%^&*(
 #5 With no alternative to out of school detention, the school is in a corner, with few options. The parents say all the right things, seem supportive, are always upset with the boy for his words. But nothing changes. Suspension is NOT working. WE NEED AN ALTERNATE PLAN!

Some days I feel like the keeper of the keys instead of a teacher. We are such a small school our entire middle school staff consists of only 4 full time middle school teachers. There are several other peripheral teachers who also teach high school part of the day, but the 4 of us make up the core of our staff. Today was a day where the other 3 were in a RTI meeting all morning. That seems innocent enough, shouldn't impact me. RIGHT? Wrong...

Kids who need to get into a locked classroom - knock, knock, can I borrow your keys? 
Kids who need the admin login to take an AR test - knock, knock, can you log me in?
Kids who need an adult to troubleshoot a tech issue, whether logging in their computer, wiki or some other weird issue - knock, knock, can you help me?
The printer jams - knock, knock, can you help me?

Couple all that with the kids KNOWING most of the teaching staff is gone, so they are pushing buttons with the subs, wandering the halls, testing the limits more than usual.. (OH, and it is HALLOWEEN!!)..

It's been quite the morning already at 10:25.

Girl drama. Middle School Girl DRAMA. *sigh*

It is like this chronic epidemic with no cure, no vaccine.

She said.
He said.
He told her she said.
She told me that she said that you said. I saw her do it.
SHUT UP!
I didn't do that!
You promised me to not tell anyone else!
She said.
She said.

Somedays, I just want to take the entire lot of them and lock them in a room together until they sort it all out.

Parts of it are natural. Adolescence is a time of transition, of learning who you are, learning who you relative to others, especially how you fit into the social pecking order. Toss in a few raging hormones and the drama seems inevitable.

Other parts of the process, at least to those of us on the outside, trying to keep the peace, or at the very least, trying to keep the educational process moving along while keeping the girls from clawing each other to death.

I still remember 5th grade, getting into a fight, yes, a FIGHT, with my bestie. I have no idea what we were fighting over. Something mundane, unimportant, stupid, pointless.. but at the time, worthy of a nail clawing, scratching match that left us both bloody and scarred.

As an adult, it is easy to forget the mindless anger. It is easy to poopoo their disagreements, tell them to IGNORE each other, remind them NO boy is worth losing a good friend over....

But in the end, the girl drama rages out of control. *sigh*

OH... I try to be positive. I try to see the good in every kid. I try to be patient. I try to give the 100th 2nd chance, always.

But sometimes, some days... I really get over the top frustrated, tired, out of patience, wondering WHY I showed up for work today.

Today.. is one of those days...

From the boys flinging erasers in the hall, to the middle school girl drama, to the he said, she said tattletalers, to the "I CAN'T DO THIS. SCHOOL IS STUPID!" comments, to the constant whining, to the wanderers who won't stay in class, to the miss a day here, miss a day there, and wonder why they can't keep up, to the swearers, to the "I did it but left it at home" excusers, to the "I forgot to take my pill", to the, to the, to the....

Oh my gosh... I just want to scream REALLY??? REALLY??? SERIOUSLY??? 

It is almost 2 o'clock. I have 15 more minutes of my prep hour and then my favorite group for math class... I CAN DO THIS. I CAN DO THIS. I CAN DO THIS. I CAN DO THIS.

This year, we are experimenting with early release Wednesday's for students. The theory is giving teachers an extra hour and half a week for professional development will improve teaching and learning (i.e. test scores...).

We are in week 8 of the year. Some groups have used the time to write assessments for courses. If these are based on the curriculum, eventually, I can see these being used to provide data to drive our instruction. If they are just based on what we've always taught, well, things are changing.

I've spent my Wednesday's with other special ed personnel working on our new IEP program. Trying to overcome the many glitches we've encountered since we started using it last spring has been overwhelming, frustrating and down right ridiculous at times.

Today, we meet as a K-12 staff to listen to a presentation on the Common Core. I am hopeful it is inspiring, directional and embraced positively.

I wonder if we are gaining with our early release days? How will we determine the success of the experiment?  I do know having middle school lunch at 10:15 these days is HORRIBLE!

Week 2, Day 1 of MEAP's.

A million distractions - my kiddo's get to use a CD audio version of the test. One of the players makes this loud squeaking noise. Driving him crazy. Driving those close to him crazy.

The bells are still going for high schoolers. Grrr.... Maybe that wouldn't bother me quite so much but when the high schoolers are taking ACT/MME or anything else, for that matter, no one is allowed to so much as BREATHE near their classrooms. But here these middle schoolers sit, trying to concentrate, and the bells ring. Then, the high schoolers tromp up and down the stairs, socializing with each other, as kids will do, but every comment, every swear word, every inappropriate suggestive taunt, every every every thing is heard loud and clear in my room.

Trying to keep my crew quiet and without injuring each other once they are done is a challenge. They are like overwound little toys, just NEEDING to explode as soon as they finish the last bubble (which is no where near the allotted 40-50 minutes). So, in an effort to make my life easier, I copied some cool color pages of designs for them to do when done. Backfire... and I knew better... but they were so intent on getting to COLOR (and remember... these are 7th graders...) they hurried through their tests to grab a coloring sheet.

The floors in this old school are creaky, squeaky, squawky. All you have to do is look at the beautiful hardwood floor and a cacophony of noises start and work their way across the room. Forget it someone rocks back in their chair, slides it a bit, or heaven forbid, WALKS. Then, the noise becomes almost deafening in the silence.

Even the furnace sounds loud when we are quiet. To some people, that would not be an issue, but with ADD/ADHD kiddos, this is torture. Click, click, squeak squeak, BRIIINNGGGG, click, squeak... until they are ready to explode.

No worries. I am sure they all did well. I am excited my pay will be based on their scores.

Did I mention I put my application in at McDonald's?

Yesterday started MEAP's, Michigan's high stakes assessment. It is liken to 5 days of torture. Even good students tire of filling in bubbles and formulating written responses by the end of the testing cycle. For students who struggle with school work, these tests are frustrating and overwhelming. For students who have ADD or ADHD, or a myriad of other disabilities which impact their ability to focus and sustain focus for extended periods of time, these long stretches of testing are a complete waste of time.

Most students attack the tests with an honest intention of doing well, at least the first test, the first day. But as test after test is presented, and the minutes drag into hours, the testing goes on and on and on, they start filling in bubbles, just wanting to be done.

Once one student finishes, the pressure to be done closes in, and they all want to be done. If a teacher offers some reward time - a movie, free time, etc...- when all students are done, suddenly the pressure intensifies even more. Even the most dedicated student feels the stares and the need to be finished, and begins to rush to meet the expectations.

I am all for teacher accountability for what we teach. I am all for holding me accountable for doing everything humanly possible to see that my students learn and progress. But a test like this does little to measure that accurately.

Some students fill in bubbles at random, creating a design. Others do the ABCD method. Others just do it as quickly as possible. No matter how much we try to impress upon them the importance of doing their best, they are certain their best isn't good enough anyway, so why bother.

Some students are sick; others had a terrible start to their morning at home. Others have a family member they are worried about. But this test is not what is on the forefront of their mind today.

I just see it all as a waste of instructional time and money.

Trying to get students to make the leap from concrete to abstract is often the most difficult transition in thinking. In 7th grade, we learn to write algebraic expressions and equations. Some students make the leap seamlessly, understanding that "some number" indicates to use a variable. Others struggle, wanting the actual number to write. They push buttons on calculators, bang on their heads, try to work out the problem, when in actuality, all that is expected is for them to write an expression or equation using variables to represent the unknown parts. No matter how many times I tell them, show them, give them examples, when turned loose on their own to try the process, they insist on sticking numbers in their work instead of variables.

I wonder if this is the critical point where we go wrong in math. Is this the actual turning point where we lose them?

Even working with small numbers of students in my math classes, I find it difficult to figure out ways to meet each child where they are and take them through the learning process. It is kind of like taking 5 students to the track to run a 4 minute mile. Some of them, no matter what we do, will never make the target. If I take them over to the high jump, no matter what I do, some of them will never be successful in clearing that bar.

It isn't that they don't want to run the mile, or jump high, but for whatever reason, it is out of their ability level.

Maybe if we waited another year, they  might make the grade. Maybe not... The fish is NEVER going to climb the tree.

But the reality of my classroom is I am expected to make that fish climb that tree... make the young man who still thinks concretely, whose brain has not matured to comprehend the abstract, make him see that using a letter for an unknown number is the secret to success.

I HATE subbing on my prep hour. I know it is the 'right' thing to do, take one for the team, blah, blah, blah...

#1 I have things I NEED to do, things I want to do, and sometimes, just time to decompress from having kids all day. I NEED that hour to maintain my sanity.

#2 Lesson plans vary from good, structured and 'keep 'em busy' to non-existent.

#3 I don't always know the content and don't have time to figure it out as students are asking questions.

#4 and probably the biggest.... different teachers/different classrooms/different expectations for behaviors. While I do not believe classrooms need to be quiet for learning to occur, I do believe there needs to be some  level of peace and structure. Some classrooms run quite differently from my expectations. Trying to have students conform to MY own structure for a one hour period, is often impossible, especially on a Friday afternoon.

So here I sit.... yes, subbing on my prep, wishing I'd just said NO!

High school algebra seems to be the turning point for many students. Either they get through it on the first try, go on the be successful and graduate on time, or, algebra becomes their downfall, with them now sophmores, in both algebra and geometry, and now destined for continued struggles, and ultimately, more often than not, missing out on graduating with their peers.

As students head to college, math success also seems to be a determining factor in ultimate success. According to Harvard Graduate School of Education, in 2001, nearly 1/3 of incoming freshmen were required to take remedial classes.

Looking at these issues from a middle school teacher's perspective, I see the middle grades as the make it or break it point. If we, in middle school, do NOT get students ready for high school algebra, are we dooming them to a life of failure?

We have to look at how to strengthen math programs at this level. We have to find ways to reach all learners, and change the course of their destinies. We have to overcome math phobias, create students who are confident and comfortable with math, and encourage them to hone their missing skills.

The process isn't easy. But it is possible. Middle school math must become the change agent in education if we want students to have the opportunity to success as they move up the ladder of education.

You often see teacher quotes which say something like "The best part of my job is June, July, and August".  We all do have that sentiment at times, but in reality, no one goes into teaching for the summer off perk. Good teachers choose this profession because they love to share their enthusiasm for learning with students.

I always said I would retire when it was no longer fun to teach. Somedays, I wonder if that day is closer than I care to admit. In reality, it isn't the students themselves that usually make me question another year in the classroom. It is more often all the other STUFF that goes on that makes my job difficult.

All in all, so far, this year has gotten off to a GREAT start. Last year was a tough year, a tough group of kids, tough circumstances in many ways. But even with the move to the high school, I feel invigorated and positive about much of what is going on.

For starters, I have kids in my room, my own kids, my own room, for 3 hours of the day. That is the part of being a special ed teacher that is the hardest - sharing. Even in the best of co-teaching scenarios, it is not perfect, and it is never, ever, never your classroom, taught your way.

All my kiddos this year, I know from past years, either having had them, which is the case with most of them, or at least, they know me, I knew their names, and we didn't have that initial honeymoon adjustment period to deal with.

Another great part is teaching math. I have 8 kids for 7th grade math. Most of them have a tough wall built, certain they can't do math, certain no matter what they will fail. But brick by brick I am trying to tear down those walls, show them success, teach them independence and offer them a chance at passing high school algebra when they get there.

The discipline issues have been minimum, though existent. But again, I keep plodding along, making parent phone calls, cheering tiny successes, and finding ways to create positive relationships with students and parents to make the year smooth.

I am still frustrated that my paycheck shows a huge downward trend from last year. I am still frustrated that the state and federal government thinks every child can and will fit their perfect mold of learning. I am still frustrated that much of my time is spent on filling out busywork paperwork instead of actually helping kids. I am still frustrated that some parents teach their child that the school is out to get them, and accept failure as an option. I am still frustrated that some teachers refuse to change and grow and be role models for students.

But all in all, when the last chair is upside down on the tables, the last grade recorded, I realize I still have the best job in the world. and for that, I am thankful....

The new room is taking shape and I am starting to focus on the more important aspects of the upcoming school year, instead of simply worrying about the physical aspects of where I will be.

One of the best parts of being a special ed teacher is that I get to have the same kiddos more than one year. One of the worst parts of being a special ed teacher is that I get to have the same kiddos more than one year. 

This fall, I am looking forward to having many of the same faces again. Not only will I get to see them again, but the group of 6th graders I had last year, I will have for math this year as 7th graders. I LOVE teaching 7th grade math and with this group, we will have tons of fun. I can already picture the trips outside, the experiments, the group projects and the excitement. I know they struggle in their own ways with math, with school, with learning, but I also know that each one of them comes to me with unique strengths and a willingness to work hard when they feel valued. My goal and mission will be to set the stage for that success from day one.

It is always a balance between making class so easy it is not challenging and students become bored, and making the work so difficult they become overwhelmed and give up completely. Add to those challenges the curriculum mandated by powers beyond me... and the balance becomes a teetering tottering hopeless mess. 

I am thinking about  how to best structure the learning - do I want to use interactive notebooks? These are not students who will willingly take homework home.... so I need a plan that allows maximum use of class time. Will notebooks help that? I am imagining many partner/group activities to meet their excessive social needs. How can I best utilize their netbooks to help me individualize their needs?

Mindboggling.. and exciting... and racing here faster than I care to think!

I'm at the point in packing my classroom where everything is just a mess. I've gotten over the hurdle of getting started, and the easy stuff is in boxes, stolen milkcrates (shhh... don't tell...), and just in piles. The cupboards are empty. A gazillion loads of stuff I will want  back have been hauled to the dumpsters. All that is left to pack are the weird odds and ends that won't fit into a box, I still need, or I simply can't decide whether to toss or keep.

My room is sad. The walls echo every little noise. Every year, the last days are sad, knowing the kids are leaving for the summer. But this year, it is even sadder, knowing this is the last time, THE LAST TIME, I will ever, EVER, EVER, teach in this classroom. THIS CLASSROOM. THE classroom I always wanted. The classsroom I waited for years to get a chance at. It isn't bigger than the others, just a normal size classroom. It does have a sink, and yes, a window, but it is just a basic classroom.

Why then was it special to me?? It is in the middle of the middle school. Pure and simple. My room is on the front of the building, with the middle window. The middle school was always THE best place to be, and I was in the middle of the middle. It just didn't get any better than that.

Last year, I gave it up for a year, moving into an interior room, giving a new teacher a shot at the perfect room. He didn't feel the magic in those walls though. And as I moved back in... I swore I'd never leave it again. And now... I am not only leaving it, I am abandoning it, letting it go, never to see kids again.

How sad will these walls feel when everything is removed, and fall comes, and no kids come back. I picture the sadness in the walls, their loneliness sagging them, dragging them down.... as they hear the laughter and the voices from below, realizing no kids are coming back here, ever again.

I know it is just a place. I know that the middle school can live on if WE make it work. I know that.

But the letting go is hard. The moving and leaving behind this place is hard. We spend so many hours here, year round, because this is our home in many ways. Our classrooms become an extension of who we are, what we value, what we want to share with students. Moving to different rooms, in a different building, where things smell differently, where things fit differently, where things sound differently..... It will be a long time before there becomes home.

and I am sad....

One of my duties as special ed teacher is to read tests to students. In theory, these are students who are labeled and have that as an accomodation in their IEP. In reality, most teachers encourage any struggling students to have their tests read to them, hoping that little perk will give them a boost to make success more likely or possible.

Some students use the bonus of having the test read, even asking me to repeat, slow down, clarify questions. Others, they just take up a chair, maybe filling in bubbles, maybe not. Nodding off halfway through the exam. Not bothering to even attempt the essay questions.

I struggle with the motivation, and lack thereof, of students. At high school level, just the motivation of passing the class, earning credit, and eventually, the diploma, should be a motivator to at least give the exam an honest attempt.

The faces of some students show the defeat as they walk in the door though. They've done so little for so long, not developed study skills to allow them to be successful, given up on themselves and the school, and know failure is in their future.

I like to think deep down they DO care, they do want to succeed. I like to think we've failed them more than they've failed themselves. I like to think there is hope on their horizon.

Of the nine students I read a world history test to this morning, maybe 3 of them gave it an honest shot. One was sure he did well because he studied for an entire HOUR this morning right before the test. Another wrote and wrote and wrote, on every essay question, pouring her knowledge onto the paper fervently. The last of the 3 who looked like they really gave it a shot, at least attempted every question.

The other six.... one slept through most of the test, not even bothering to write his name on the paper. Another finished quickly and insisted she had to go somewhere, and became beligerent when I wouldn't let her leave to wander halls. Another finished quickly, attempting none of the essay questions and sat gazing into outerspace the remainder of the time. Two girls were more interested in writing notes than the test. I took a cell phone away from a student texting during the exam.

Where have we failed them? Where can we un-fail them? How can we make them care?

We've spent a lot of time this year organizing a plan to implement PBIS in the middle and high school next year. In theory, I love the idea of positive rewards for students who are doing what they need to do. I love catching kids being good. I don't think we do that nearly often enough.

On the other hand, I think we need strong, consistent consquences in place for behaviors which are inappropriate. I feel right now as if it's a shot in the dark as to the consequences which will be enforced. For a given action, some students get hammered with a suspension or a lunch detention. For the exact same infraction, another students walks away with nothing more than a scolding of 'don't do that again'. Adolencents crave consistency, insist on fairness, and expect swift and equitable punishment for classmates. They don't understand when their world exhibits inconsistencies. They want to push the limits then, trying to figure out the system. They want to test the boundaries, or lack thereof.

Teaching special ed, I do see some exceptions to the hard and fast rules. However, those exceptions need to be consistent as well. We are not doing anyone any favors by exempting them completely from the norms of our society. When they grow up and become members of the REAL WORLD, no one will care what their label it, what their disability is, or be willing to give them a free pass because of those.

I'm disheartened to see the path we've taken as a society, and as a local district, allowing the students to run rampant, wandering the halls, using profanity, disregarding the dress code, spouting disrespect towards each other and adults, not as exceptions, but as the norm. Back in the good old days, kids were kids, adults were adults, respect was respect, not just expected but enforced. Now we've gone so far the other way on the pendulum, kids think they can say and do anything, with no consequences, except to try to get an adult who does try to enforce the rules in trouble for doing their job.

We have to find a middle ground. I don't want to go back to the 'children should be seen and not heard' days, but I sure would like to see us transition back to where there is a clear distinction of authority and hierarchy in schools. Empowering students is one thing, disempowering teachers is another. Surely we can give students the rights they deserve, while still, preserving the integrity of a school that maintains a certain standard of behavior.

The home stretch of the school year is upon us. 4 days this week, 2 full days next week, 3 half days and poof, it is all over.

In some ways, it has been a great school year. I've had the pleasure of getting to know some wonderful students. I've had the pleasure of having some students again in class, students I knew as 7th graders, way back when, who are now grown up, mature 10th graders. I've seen students mature over the course of the year, learning to make more appropriate choices, learning to deal with frustration and disappointment by tackling it head-on. I've seen students learn to cope with their shortcomings by applying themselves, finding strategies to overcome their weaknesses, and by learning to ask for and accept help. I've enjoyed their journey, and being a part of that progress.

Some students were students I had already known. Others were new to me. I've met some great kids, ones I will remember for their kindness to others, their charismatic personalities, their willingness to tackle challenges head-on. I've gotten to know some personally, learning of their struggles outside of school, their unique family situations. I've learned about their dreams, their hopes, their plans. I've wiped their tears, hugged them when they needed it, and high-fived their achievements. I've seen students learn to be a part of social groups, accepting friendships offered, eating in the cafeteria for the first time, walking with a friend in the hall, joking and laughing with classmates.

On the other end of the spectrum, I've dealt with students who do not want to mature, grow or learn. These are the faces that will haunt me. The unreachable's, the ones I was unable to connect with, the ones I seemed to be unable to make a difference with, academically, socially, or any other possible connection. They shut out the adults who try to help them, refusing to budge one inch towards maturity. For some, time will lead them down that path. For others, I fear the destination is set already, at the end of a path they've already charted. They will end up dropping out of school, and for many, incarceration is the destination they've set their sights on. I feel sadness for them, knowing I, or any adult here, was unable to reach them, unable to change their path, unable to find a way to make that connection that would give them another option in life.

After yesterday's emotional outpouring of support, I want to echo the sentiments expressed about the middle school staff. We..... all of us.....WILL all work together to do what is best for kids, regardless of the location of our classrooms. We WILL make it work next year, no matter our personal feelings. I have no doubt that each and every person will reach to the limits of their personal ability to make the move as easy as possible for students.

We were told today we are supposed to put on a 'unified front' for students, make it look as if we are all in agreement. While I understand the sentiment expressed by adminstration on this issue, I am not going to lie to students and tell them I think this move is a good idea. I don't lie to my students about anything. I just don't. I think that is a bad idea and I think students see through those lies and lose respect for the adults in their lives when they lie to them on such big issues. I refuse to lie about my thoughts, opinions and feelings, especially to my students.

I think we are all entitled to our grief, our processing of the loss of our comfort zone. I think we are entitled to vent and speak, share and inform.

But at the end of the day, we do have to do whatever it takes to make it work for kids. And I will. And they will. And we will survive.

That knowledge doesn't make the packing any easier. It doesn't make the loss any less. It just falls under the heading of inevitability and resignation.

I blog today with sadness, anger, resentment and disbelief. I know that budget cuts make schools and school boards make decisions that bring out a variety of emotions in teachers, students and parents. Unpopular decisions. But probably decisions that made sense to those making the decision at the time.

But this time... the decision impacts me profoundly and I am angry, I am sad, I am in denial. Our middle school is closing. We are being sucked into oblivion. Sixth grade will go to elementary and be self-contained. The good news is, the two teachers going with them are both awesome, caring, giving souls who will make this switch work for kids.

The seventh and eighth graders are being sucked over to the high school. The promise is that there will be as little mingling as possible between high schoolers and middle schoolers, but in reality, the day to day, class to class reality will be a jumble of people.

The theory is we can save $30,000 by closing off the middle school which is housed on the second floor, above the middle school. The theory is that we will just be absorbed into high school life, not causing additional costs over there. The reality is, parents and students are angry and some will pull their children to go elsewhere. If just 4 students are lost, the saving are pppffftttt... GONE. Just 4....

The high school rooms are small. They are dusty. They don't have storage space. We'll be getting the leftovers, the rooms that are now crammed with stuff, shoved there when it outlived its usefulness elsewhere.

The days of spreading out kids into groups to work on projects will be over. The days of hanging projects in the halls and on classroom walls for display will be over. The days of middle school kid getting another few years to be middle schoolers will be over. Suddenly, they will become little high schoolers, hearing the words tossed carelessly aside by high schoolers, the swear words, the sexual comments... The middle schoolers will be exposed to the public displays of affection exhibited by our high schoolers, blatant and flaunted. The middle schoolers will grow up quickly, sucked into the high school world. Our middle school girls will become prey for high school boys.

I am angry that budgets make us forget what is best for kids. I am angry that I have to pack my things, sort, get rid of, downsize years of teaching supplies, resources, stuff.... to fit into a classroom much smaller with no storage space. I am angry we are expected to do all this with a smile and a suck-it-up attitude. It always seems as if the middle school gets the short end of the stick here. It has been that way the entire 17 years I've been here. We were the ones to lose a principal, our counselor, our everything. We have to take whatever leftover hours are available in the schedule.

And now..... we've lost our building.... we're done. We are no longer middle school. We don't exist.