This year, I was prepared for bad news. I was prepared for being transferred from my current school to another school because enrollment was down. Even though I was slightly worried I could be pink-slipped again, I was reassured by my principal and a board member that I *should* be safe.
They were wrong.
On Monday, March 7th, my principal told me I’d be involuntarily transferred. On Friday, March 11th, she called me into her office to give me the bad news that I don’t have a job next year.
I’ve been through this twice before. The first time, over 100 teachers got the notice, but 40 teachers took the “Golden Handshake” and retired. Last time it was around the same number as this time (25), but because of the pandemic, we didn’t get called back til August (or later) of the same year.
This time, 13 people with less seniority than me were spared because they meet “skipping criteria”… in other words, they work at a school that has some special program the district deems “worth it.” I am not one of those people. I work at a school that doesn’t have a magnet grant, or another program designed to pull students from the pool of families leaning toward private school.
My classroom 2017-20182018My classroom 2018-2020My classroom 2020-2022
So, where does that leave me?
Right now? It leaves me in limbo. I’ve been given a “preliminary” layoff notice and they there was a hearing. The judge has til May 20th to decide if the layoffs are valid. Then the district has til the 31st to give us final notice. The last day of school is June 2nd.
As of right now, there are 27 jobs “available” in my district. There are also about 24 teachers needing to be involuntarily transferred. There are also 2 teachers on a leave of absence who need to be placed. That’s 26 spots taken. That means the last job can be taken by the most senior teacher on the layoff list.
I am the 6th most senior teacher on the list, which means in order for me to get my job back (well, any job in the district), 5 elementary or multiple subject teachers need to resign or retire.
So, right now I need to finish out my year with my wonderful firsties, and pack up my classroom, yet again. It means I should probably start looking in other districts just in case, but I’ve been looking and see nothing as of yet. It means I won’t get to teach the siblings of kids I’ve taught the last 2 years, or have lunch with my friend, or laugh with my coworkers at carline. It means I don’t have talks with my teacher friends during recess or after school. It means I have to start over again.
I don’t know what needs to happen for this cycle to stop, but boy am I ready for some stability.
I’m always sad to leave a school, and friends, and families I’ve gotten to know, but this time it seems worse. My coworkers and I were in the shit together. We learned how to teach online, then hybrid, then come back to get tested weekly, then almost back-to-normal. We trouble-shot tech together, learned new platforms, and lamented all kinds of never-before-seen teaching challenges. The kids and I last year got to know each other entirely through a computer screen, and I got to know their parents, as many of them were right there with their kids every single day. In first grade, for many of my students I was their FIRST in-person teacher. EVER.
We did a lot of learning. We did a lot of growing. We all had to be flexible. We all had to change the way we do things. We bonded.
Each day when my class does the calendar, we count how many days we’ve been in school and how many we have left. As the numbers get smaller, the groans from the students get louder. A few of them have even said, “Can’t we just stay in your class next year?!”
Well, it’s been a minute since I last wrote about my ever-changing career in teaching. Since August of 2015, I’ve taught at 4 schools. I’ve had 7 principals, 13 teaching partners, and 2 grades. I’ve taught over 230 students in that short time. I’ve had one involuntary transfer and 2 pink slips. I’ve always landed somewhere, thankfully, but in such a short amount of time, I’ve had to move all my teaching supplies and furniture back and forth from home to classroom, back to home, back to classroom, and I’m looking at having to do that yet again.
The crazy thing is that if I were in a different time or a different place, it wouldn’t be this hard.
I’m currently teaching at a school where families used to camp out overnight to get their children enrolled. Just a handful of years ago, there were 4-5 full classes per grade level. Now, there are 3 for most. Our numbers are down, and it’s not looking good for next year’s enrollment.
The problem? Enrollment is down for a lot of schools in our district. So, what’s going on? Why are we losing students?
Well, first, let’s look at how many schools we have in the area.
Looking at “Greatschools” I found (not including preschools):
23 public schools
Over 10 charter schools
and 79 private schools (SEVENTY-NINE?!?!)
There are more than twice as many private schools in our area than there are public schools. And, considering these are the home prices for sale right now, what on earth do we expect? Home prices are so outrageous right now, that families moving to the area have to be of a certain wealth. A lot (not all, but a lot) of families of a certain wealth send their kids to private school.
So, how on earth are we supposed to get new students? So many people have an idealized version of private school, and assume that tuition = better school. When public schools were online last year, a few of the private schools decided to open their doors for in person learning, so we lost students whose parents needed them to be at a school building instead of at home.
And, sadly, we just haven’t gotten them back.
So, unless something drastically changes in this area, I don’t know how we’re going to lure more families to choose public education over private, or even charter schools. Add to that, it’s so expensive that many families are moving OUT of the area, and we are dwindling.
Our district has closed 11 schools since 2006. 4 elementary schools were closed in 2006, 2 in 2011, 2 in 2018, and 2 more elementary and 1 middle school closed in 2020. In 2005, there were approximately 21,000 students in our district. In 2022, there are 13,513. That means we’ve lost almost 7500 students in the last 17 years. That is devastating. If there’s approximately 25 students to a teacher, that means over 300 teachers have been displaced, retired, or laid off.
At this time, the numbers don’t look good. This year, my school is operating with 2 less teachers than last year, and yet we have several classes with only 16 or 18 students. We’re down to 2 kindergarten classes. Each of our teachers at this school has a MINIMUM of 17 years in the district. Except me. I’ve got 7. So, when we lose a teacher, it will 100% be me. The next questions to ask are 1) how many more teachers will be displaced and 2) where do I end up?
It’s depressing. I make connections with students and teachers, and make real friends, and then have to leave and start all over again. And even though I still keep in touch with my former colleagues, it’s not the same. And starting over every 2 years and trying to fit in and meet people and make friends gets harder the older I get.
So, my head is once again filled to the brim with “What ifs” and “What nows”… should I try a new district? Should I try a new career? What am I qualified for?
Why don’t I retire, you ask? I mean, after all, I’m 52. Well, I was out of the classroom for 14 years, raising kids. So, even though I got my credential and started teaching in 1992, I’ve only got 15 years of experience, and that’s not enough.
I hate to sound whiny. I know things could be much worse for me, and the other teachers with less seniority than me who may be facing lay-offs. It would just be nice to know where I’m going to be next year. For a change. Especially considering how difficult the last two years of Pandemic teaching have been.
A friend of mine who is setting up a site where teachers help each other has asked me to write an article about something I do in the classroom that would be considered “best practices,” that I can back up with evidence in professional journals or educational theories.
I’ve thought a lot about this. I’ve thought a lot about how every few years, education seems to morph itself into something else. There’s more “eduspeak” and catch phrases every few years. There are more theories, more nicknames, and more assumed shared experience. I will say that the term “best practices” was never used when I entered the teaching profession in 1992. And, after stepping away for 14 years, returning to the classroom brought a lot of new eduspeak I’d somehow missed those years at home with my children.
So, at first, I thought I had nothing to share. I don’t have a book of “best practices” to peruse and choose something really ground-breaking. I don’t read educational journals. I don’t brush up on the latest theories on education on a regular basis. Maybe I should. Maybe this is what my goal should be in the next few years. I’ll keep you posted.
What I will say is that this last year was something that no journal was ready for. The last year of teaching in a pandemic had no best practices nor theories. Each one of us was working every day at doing our best for our students, no matter what the situation. The only thing I can speak to is what I went through and did, and the “best practices” I put in place and strove for each and every day with my students.
My calendar and classroom were frozen in time.
When the pandemic hit, and we all were sent home, everyone was a little panicked about what our new roles would be. How would we reach our students? How would we deliver content and keep relationships when we wouldn’t be in the classroom with our students? At my school, many of the students were unable to log into a synchronous class at the same time every day, because they didn’t have reliable internet, were going to family’s houses while parents worked, or even went to work WITH their parents. So, we did everything A-synchronously. This meant we all got some last-minute PD on how to use online platforms to post assignments. We learned how to use a program to record our screens to walk students through a certain program, or show them how to use a specific online tool.
We were given very little guidelines. As teachers, we looked to each other for ideas, because none of us knew quite what to do. I started making videos of my math, spelling, and writing lessons to post for the students, knowing that only 1/4 of my students were really accessing the material. I had no way to assess what they were doing if they weren’t logging in. I started to schedule 2 Google Meets per week to at least check in with the kids, and only 2 students showed up the first time. The biggest group I had all year was the last day of school, when 12/22 kids logged in to say, “Good-bye.” (To add insult to injury, I’d been pink-slipped and told there would be no re-hiring til the fall, so after logging off, I had to clear out my personal belongings and take it all home to sit in my living room indefinitely. I sobbed after ending the meeting.)
Over the summer, things started to get better in our county and then they tanked. Despite our district’s leadership spending a good chunk of their time on planning a hybrid approach to return to school in the fall, the county hit an all-time high number of cases in July, so plans had to change quickly. The school year would start remotely, with a combination of daily synchronous classes and a-synchronous work time. I was fortunate enough to get re-hired 4 days before school started, and was going to be at my 4th school in 6 years. And, unlike every other year I’ve taught, I wouldn’t see my kids in person at all.
The first time I met the students, over google meet
Here are what became my own “best practices” during this extraordinary year.
Build Relationships
Despite not being in the same room with my students, I learned that I could still build relationships with them through the screen. I quickly learned their names and got to know them. Seeing them at home gave me a unique peek into their personalities and home life. Allowing a few minutes of connection while everyone logs into the meeting helped me get to know the kids, their lives, and what was important to them.
Connect with Parents
Teaching first graders in a remote setting meant that I had parents “in the classroom” with their kids. While it felt really odd at first, I ended up building relationships with parents as well as their children. There were times when my technology failed, like when my internet kicked me out of the meeting, or something I tried to share didn’t work, and being able to message the parents during that time was immensely helpful. And while at first I was worried that they’d be sitting at home judging me and my competence as a teacher, I was met with mostly support and respect.
Utilize Any and All Platforms You Can
When you can’t meet in person with your students, you need to have other options for assignments. I learned how to use several platforms for them to show me what they know. Sometimes they made videos, filled out papers online, shared pictures of their art, or messaged me their work. My students got to be experts at recording their responses in multiple ways. At a certain point, I was able to get physical papers to the students, but I still had one student doing his work out of state, so I’d scan and send all the work to his family so he could do everything we were doing. A few times, when I had specific materials we’d use for a project, I’d put them in the mail and hope they’d get there in time for him to participate.
Be Flexible
Sometimes when you’re teaching remotely, your tech fails and you have to change plans mid-stream. (Truth be told, it can happen with in-person teaching as well.) It’s times like this where you just have to be flexible and open to other ideas. It’s also necessary to find new ways to teach in small groups when the students aren’t in the same room as you, or when half are and half aren’t. Teachers need to find new ways to assess students, and evaluate their own efficacy at delivering content.
Additionally, you have to be flexible with what the district leadership expects from you, and how everything can change in a short amount of time. Last year, we taught remotely, a-synchronously. In the fall, we taught 100% remotely. Last winter, we were told we had to get ready to teach a hybrid model and had to take some a-synchronous days to clear our classrooms out and move the furniture for the appropriate spacing of desks. Then the numbers spiked and we were in the PURPLE tier, so those plans were scrapped. It took til March to get to the RED tier, so plans were made to open in April. We teachers had to change the way we taught yet again. Going from 100% online to simultaneous online and in-person was uncharted territory and seemed absolutely daunting. We had to reframe the way we did things for the third time in a year. This new phase of teaching also brought new technology we were being asked to use. Teachers need to be open to learning new skills at all times – programs, websites, techniques, technology, cameras, and computers.
Have Grace
Teaching through a pandemic is traumatic, exhausting, and extremely challenging. Being a student during a pandemic is traumatic, exhausting, and extremely challenging. As teachers, no matter how difficult it is for us, we need to remember that it’s also difficult for the students and their families. Relax your expectations on things that are beyond their control. Extend your deadlines for homework and projects. Allow kids to meet you where they are. As a parent as well, I want my own kids’ teachers to do the same. Hopefully this will be a once-in-a-lifetime situation that won’t repeat itself for any of us. Try to be open to everyone’s situations. This doesn’t mean you aren’t delivering “rigor” in your classroom, but it does mean that you understand that some things are beyond the students’ (and parents’) control.
I’ve been back in the classroom, teaching the hybrid model for a month now. It’s challenged me in ways I’d never imagined. It’s made me more resilient as a teacher, and I think it’s done the same for my students. I look forward to next year, when we can hopefully all be back in-person full-time, and I hope I can take these new skills I’ve learned and “best practices” with me as I move forward, no matter what format I find myself in.
**Mentor When You Can
Most years, I am part of a team that plans together, shares materials and ideas, and helps each other when needed. Being at a new school where until recently I hadn’t actually “met” most of my colleagues, I somehow found myself in the position of helping other teachers. As a teacher, I’ve often found myself wondering if I’m “good enough” or knowledgeable enough, or have anything interesting or valuable to offer. (I have a feeling I’m not alone in this, especially while teaching in a bit of a vacuum when you just don’t have the same opportunities for fellowship, camaraderie, and partnership during distance learning.) However, I pick up on new tech fairly quickly, so I’ve had the opportunity to assist a fellow teacher who isn’t so tech savvy. I also had the rare privilege of mentoring my first student teacher DURING the pandemic! (Who knew. Can you imagine being a student teacher right now?) Finally, there’s a long-term substitute in the room down the hall, and he hasn’t had all the training we have. One day I was asked to help with something in his classroom, and he found his way to my room a few times asking for a few more tips. I certainly am not an expert, but if there’s something I can teach another teacher, or help with something challenging, it feels good to be able to do so, especially at a time like this.
Final thoughts
To all the teachers out there, whether you’re fully remote, fully in-person, or teaching both simultaneously, keep up the good work! Here’s hoping 2021-2022 is a little more “normal” and a lot less challenging!
~Genevieve
**I realize this doesn’t apply to everyone, but it’s a great idea, no matter who you are.
Today is May 30. On March 13, I closed my classroom to teach remotely. Thursday, May 28th, I held my last video call with my class. Yesterday, I turned in my keys and said good-bye, and now I’m sitting in my dining room with boxes piled high around me, because I have no job for the fall.
Since March 25, I have made 72 videos of lessons , morning messages, and read-alouds. I’ve had several Google Meets with my students – the smallest of which was 2 kids and the biggest was 12.
Toward the very end of the school year, I was offered the opportunity for a grant for $1000 to order materials to keep my students learning. I was able to buy lots of books, art supplies, and even some snacks. Yesterday, after I’d turned in my keys, I stood outside our school (next to the meal pick-up drive thru) and was able to see most of my students and give them their things in person. It was the perfect antidote to being apart for the last 12 weeks.
Bye-bye A107Being Socially Distant
When I started the year in August, I never imagined this is how it would end. When I returned to teaching 5 years ago, I wouldn’t have imagined it would have taken me on such a tumultuous journey.
The last time I got laid off, 2 years ago, I was hired back on the last day of school. This time, everything is up-in-the-air and uncertain. No callbacks until the fall, and before that happens, there might be more layoffs. School districts don’t know if students and teachers will be returning in the fall, or continuing remote learning, or a combination of both. Because the country has been shut down for the last 12 weeks, the economy has tanked, and schools are being hit even harder then USUAL.
Never mind that thousands of teachers across the country changed the way they teach with NO PREPARATION. We just did it. We learned new platforms, tried new things, figured out how to reach our students, and JUST DID IT. We rose to the occasion. We rocked this mother. But we’re still being punished for it. We’re not being rewarded, or even thanked. We’re being discarded.
Thankfully, I have the summer to work things out. Clear my mind. Figure out what possible next steps I can take, and hopefully spend some good quality time with my family.
Side Note:
Side Note: I know this isn’t the worst thing that could happen to me. I could have been jobless this whole time. I could have gotten Covid-19. I could be a person of color being killed or threatened with violence. I could be homeless. I realize that my complaining about the situation probably makes me sound like an entitled “Karen” and I’m sorry for that. I just know that I’m not alone in this situation and hundreds of dedicated, innovative, creative teachers are finding themselves in the same situation, despite doing AMAZING things in the last 12 weeks.
I am weary. On Friday, March 13, our school district made the decision to close schools. We had a very small amount of time to prepare work for our students, and organize devices to be checked out before pick-up. That day, I only had 12 of my 22 first graders at school. I’m sure that most of my parents (and the rest of the parents of students in our school) were worried about Covid-19 and what would happen next.
All the teachers in the district reported to their school site the next Monday, ready to be trained on using the main online portal for student work and teacher communication. After training, we had to a) start working on it and b) clean up the classrooms so that all surfaces could be deep cleaned while the sites were closed.
Originally, we were told that we’ll be closed til April 6. We gave the students work for two weeks, and the district prepared work for the students for 2 weeks, and during that two weeks, we’d prepare for going to “Remote Learning” if schools were still closed April 6.
Well, this weekend, we got the message that we’re going to be closed til at least May 5. (I’ll be interested to see if it really is til May 5 or later. Some districts in other states have stated they’re closed for the rest of the year.)
My son, for example, goes to UCLA. His Freshman year will be finished from home. We’ve moved him out of the dorm. That’s it.
My daughters are in the district that employs me. They’re both in high school, and last week they were allowed on campus for a short amount of time to get their stuff out of their lockers.
We only saw one or two other families on campus when we went.
The girls are doing pretty well. They are keeping to a schedule, and keeping their own little spots on the couch for learning. When they have a test, they isolate in their own rooms. They try to get some kind of activity- my youngest does exercises and dance for her PE class, and my older daughter does yoga and skates on the driveway. My son is on “Spring Break” from UCLA, so he’s usually up in his room, talking to friends on the phone, or having a Dungeons & Dragons session with his buddies over voice chat.
Me, reading books to my students via video.
This week has been interesting. I’m learning new technology and new programs every day. I’m in online meetings and trainings regularly. And, at the same time, still unsure if I have a job next year. (Heck, everyone’s unsure what’s happening in the future. My job just has a definite expiration date.)
It’s a strange time. We don’t know the future. As I type this, I’m fighting back tears. I didn’t think it would be this hard. This hard to figure out how to connect with my students. This hard to be away from their little faces. This hard to be isolated for so long. I haven’t left my house in 5 days, and before that, it was only for absolutely essential trips – like getting books from the classroom, getting gas, or picking up a prescription from the pharmacy.
I’ve been trying to connect with my families this week, and will start making phone calls to the ones I haven’t reached. Some will need to be contacted by staff at my school who can speak Spanish, as I do not. Next week is our “Spring Break” and then after that it’s the real deal. All online teaching and learning all the time.
I marvel at the teachers who seem 100% ready for this challenge. I wish I could say I was one of them. I’m trying. I’ll get there, eventually. In the meantime, I’m just trying to keep my head up. The hardest part of my job is managing 22 kids, but the best part of my job is those 22 kids.
It’s my fifth year back to work after taking a LONG hiatus raising kids as a Stay-at-home mom. In these last 4 school years, I’ve been at 3 schools and taught 2 grades – two years in 5th grade and two years in 1st.
This year, I realized that it’s the FIRST TIME in these 4 plus years that I’ve been at the same school as my former students. How crazy is that? My first two years, I taught 5th grade, which is the last grade of elementary school (at least in our district), so my students all moved on to middle school. My third year in the district, I taught 1st grade, but I was only there for one year, so I didn’t have any former students. This year, I’m in the same grade in the same classroom at the same school, and I get to see my former firsties every day! It’s wonderful. I love seeing their faces light up and hear them call my name. Some of them give me hugs and tell me they miss being in my class. It’s a great feeling.
I’m also a lot more comfortable with first grade curriculum, and have taken some Arts training, which I’m incorporating in class. We’ve got the routines down, and really getting into the groove of first grade!
Now that I’m getting comfortable in first grade, I’d like to add some variety to our classroom. Since last year, I’ve tried to incorporate some flexible seating options for my class. Last year, I added stools, cushions, and yoga balls (that I’ve had since I taught 5th grade).
The cushions are looking rough, and falling apart now, and the yoga balls were a bad idea for my firsties. The stools are great, but not super sturdy (one has already broken).
In all my Trauma-Informed training and research I’ve done about young children and movement, I really believe that sitting on rockers or wobble stools can help kids self-regulate. Some kids really need to move while they learn, as well. I’m hoping that by getting these materials (including soft stools and clipboards for working while sitting on the floor), my students will have more opportunities to be both comfortable and successful.
The thing is, it’s not cheap to transform your classroom into a flexible-seating environment. I’ve started a Donors Choose page to raise money for the cost. If you would like to help us out, or if you know anyone who would like to donate to a classroom, we would be forever grateful! Please click on the link to check it out. 🙂
When I started teaching in 1992 as a ripe-old 22 year old, we had fire drills. The bell would ring and we would file out of the classroom to a location on the blacktop and wait til we got the “all clear.” We had earthquake drills, where we would drop under the desks, then file out of the classroom to a location on the blacktop and wait for the all clear. When you go through these drills with your class full of kindergarteners, you never think you’re going to really need to use this skill in real life.
In 1994, a few days after the Northridge Quake, we had a 5.something aftershock. I calmly told my students to get under their desks and we waited for the shaking to stop. We proceeded to line up at the door and then exit the building to our spot on the blacktop.
My first classroom, right on the street, with big windows that actually opened up!
27 years later, I am back in the classroom having drills. Last week we had our first fire drill of the year and we exited the classroom and walked out to our location on the field. We will likely have an earthquake drill in the near future, and then, inevitably, the first of several “Lockdown” drills of the year.
I dare you to find the “perfect hiding spot” for kids in a room like this.
The first lockdown I ever experienced was teaching 4th grade in La Puente. It was a year after Columbine, and there was some police activity near our school. I closed the blinds, locked the doors, turned off the lights, and the kids and I got on the floor and stayed silent for a few minutes until we got the all clear.
Not much better in terms of hiding, but at least the windows were higher up
These days, in the wake of 22 school shootings this year alone (and over 200 mass shootings this year to date), we have lockdown drills on a regular basis. In these instances, I have to close the blinds, lock the doors, and get the kids to squeeze together out of the view of windows and doors, and keep them quiet – and at the same time calm. This is not easy. During this 5-10 minutes (or more) of drill time, someone on the staff jiggles the handles on our classroom doors with quite a bit of force. This always makes me jump, no matter how many times it happens.
I wish I could say we haven’t had a real life lockdown at school, but it’s already happened several times since I’ve re-entered the classroom in 2015. I hope to God we never have an actual shooter on campus. At the same time, I worry for my own children at their schools and hope to God there’s no shooter ever at THEIR schools. And what on earth would happen if there were? Would I be able to get a sub on such short notice to go and get my kids to safety or pick them up in the aftermath? Would someone cover my class, or would I have to wait until the bell rings, all the while wondering what’s happening to my own children, but in the meantime keeping my students safe should anything happen on our campus? (Yes, these things sometimes keep me up at night.)
Last year, we had a drill in the middle of a dance lesson led by a resident artist from the Music Center. She was not prepared for this experience, and honestly, neither was I. We weren’t in our classroom, so we were told by the principal to get into a small passageway with no windows. This is the inside of it. 22 students and 2 teachers, keeping quiet in the dark, waiting for the attempt to find us and the eventual all clear.
How would you feel locked in the dark in here, trying to keep small children safe and quiet?
This was not ideal. The kids were scared and I was uncomfortable and the visiting teacher was really shaken. She was not used to these drills and it knocked her off her game for the rest of the lesson. (We talked afterward, as I could see she was having trouble.)
What is my point in all of this? This sucks. Teachers shouldn’t have to do this and children should not have to live with these kinds of drills being THE NORM. Schools should be a happy, safe, comfortable place for children – a place to feel cared about and carefree and a place to LEARN and explore. It shouldn’t be a place where anyone is scared. And drills like this should never be commonplace.
I wish it were different. I wish we weren’t living in this hellscape where we never know when a crazed gunman will open fire on a __________ (fill in the blank: school, mall, workplace, concert, club, movie theater, university, shopping center, beach, grocery store).
But it isn’t. So now what? What do we do when the people making laws don’t want to turn good gun money away? What do we do when the people in charge believe that owning high-powered automatic weapons are more of a right than living lives without worrying about being shot wherever we go? What do we do?
I’ve been reading the phrase “pinterest-worthy” lately. What on EARTH does that mean?
When I entered the teaching profession in the 90’s, the only classrooms you’d see other than your own were the few classrooms you’d see at your own school. There wasn’t the internet like it was today. You couldn’t “Google” classrooms and see what other people are doing. This kept you in a bubble to some degree … you could get inspired by other people at your own school site, but you couldn’t compare yourself to ALL THE TEACHERS IN THE UNIVERSE.
Now? Your facebook teacher-friends, your instagram teacher-friends, your colleagues, and ANY TEACHER ON PINTEREST suddenly are either inspiring you to try new things in your class or making you feel like you’re falling short by not having an absolutely amazing room (or as a school custodian once told me, “All these teachers make their classrooms look like a house!!”).
Don’t get me wrong. When I was transferred last year and went from teaching 5th grade to teaching 1st grade, I looked up “Classroom set-up” to see what I should do differently in the lower grades. It was both very helpful and also intimidating at the same time.
A lot has changed in teaching over the last 20 years.
First, teachers make their own decorations. In fact, teachers make their own units of study and worksheets for other teachers to buy. This is because most districts don’t really have curriculum for us to use. 😦
Second, many classrooms use Flexible Seating these days. This is actually something I’d love to do once my students are more independent. I tried to get a grant for it a few years ago and didn’t, but I think I might try it again.
If you’re not sure what flexible seating is, here are some examples.
I found these examples when doing a google search for “Curtains in classroom.” I must say, I’m impressed with all of these. I feel like it really brings a nice “homey” touch to a classroom, and just brightens it up. I don’t know that I have the talent (or time, or patience) to try it myself, but it really does make a classroom look special.
*Side note: I just realized that *technically* I had a “curtain” in my room last year… a curtain to hide the cluttered back room in my classroom.
The use of this curtain isn’t quite as charming as I’ve seen, especially when they’re on windows, but it’s not a bad way to hide a closet.
So, what have my classrooms looked like?
Well, my first classroom ever didn’t have a lot of bulletin board space. Sadly, I don’t have a good picture of the whole classroom, so this is the best I’ve got.
Here’s one of my kindergarten classroom from my second school. It is more decorated than usual, as it’s Halloween.
I switched from kindergarten to 4th grade the next year. I don’t know where most photos from that classroom are, however, I do have this photo of the awesome theater space I had in that class.
If you look closely, you can see the charts on the windows.
A fairly decent look at the 4th grade class before the stage went in. Fairly bare, because it was the beginning of the year.
Sadly, the above photos are the only ones I can find of my 4th grade classroom, and my memory isn’t what it used to be.
When I re-entered the teaching world, I didn’t look at Pinterest. I showed up and tried to figure it out. Toward the beginning of the year, we got new desks. This was my classroom. Pretty bare (but look at those windows!!).
Through the year, it got a bit more colorful. (I was constantly trying to figure out the best configuration for these stupid desks.
The following year, I traded my desks for tables…
but then switched to desks again.
Neither one of these classes could be on a magazine cover.
Then came first grade.
Again, not very “Pinterest-y”
This year, I’ve tried a little harder. I’ve got a couch, and a special chair, and am working on it.
I’m working on making my class a vibrant, fun, exciting space to work. I don’t know that I’ll EVER be “Pinterest-worthy,” but is that what we’re all aiming for? I think when it comes down to it, these are the questions to ask yourself:
Is your classroom inviting?
Is your classroom a safe space for your students?
Is your classroom a comfortable, fairly organized space for learning to take place?
Is your classroom set up in a way that helps the students work both independently and collaboratively?
Then, I think it’s fine. Period.
(Of course, you could do everything “right” and then have several mice living in your closet and all bets are off.)
I’ve been a teacher since 1992. Yes, I took some time off to raise my kids, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t a teacher anymore – just not an “employed” teacher, I guess. One thing about me didn’t change the whole time I wasn’t working… I still cared about kids, and I was constantly volunteering in the class, on field trips, and even on the PTA board.
One truth that I know about teaching is that we teach love. We teach togetherness. We teach equality, inclusion, and empathy. We teach all students to embrace each other’s differences and treat everyone equally. We teach that EVERYONE is special in their own way, and EVERYONE deserves to be loved.
In my first grade class, these children see no inequality. African American children are best friends with Latino children. Latino children are best friends with caucasian children. They all play together. They share their snacks. They want to sit together and take each other to the nurse when they get hurt.
In first grade ALL of these beautiful children want to be INCLUDED.
Teachers work to keep it this way. We want the children to be friends with each other, no matter what color, gender, culture, or ability.
What’s going on in the United States right now hurts my heart. It goes against everything that’s good and pure and sweet about these first graders.
I wonder what some of these torch-wielding marchers were like when they were in first grade. Did they play with children of all colors? Did they share their snacks with children of color? Did they hold hands with an Asian or Latino boy or girl at circle time? Or were they taught to hate long before they took their first step into a classroom?
I have such a hard time understanding anyone who feels that they are superior to someone else based on race or culture. I don’t believe that a six-year-old could feel true hatred and superiority toward their classmates. This kind of attitude is not inherent in children. It’s learned, over time. It usually comes from an adult the child trusts and looks up to, and it usually takes several years to really change the mindset of someone. I’ve seen it in a school where I used to teach. Darling kindergartners who played with EVERYONE and had a best friend who was another race became enemies with that same friend by the time they got to 7th or 8th grade.
Love each other. We are all humans. We are all beautiful and worthy – no one more than anyone else. We are all born to love each other. Let’s keep it this way.
For the last two years, I’ve taught 5th grade. It’s been a tumultuous two years, with 4 principals and 3 teaching partners. I’ve taught 137 students, gone on 9 field trips, 2 overnight field trips, taught 4 “electives,” put together four slideshows, had two promotion ceremonies, and put together one yearbook.
Signing the Pledge of Allegiance with both classes.
Field Trip to an Art museum
Looking for pond life at Pali
Living the American Revolution at Riley’s Farm
In December, right before Christmas vacation, my principal let me know that I would probably be transferred somewhere else in the district next year. Our enrollment was down (5th grade was by FAR the biggest with 64 kids/2 classes. 4th grade was about 53 kids/2 classes. k-3 each had 1.5 classes.) and I was the last one hired by the district.
Last week, I got my assignment. I will be teaching 1st grade, 2 miles away
I will go from teaching students who tower over me or look me in the eyes to little people who will look up to me. It will be a big change.
A much younger me, on a field trip with my very first group of kindergarteners.
However, in my past life, I taught kindergarten for 6 years. I think I will like the change. I always enjoyed subbing in 1st grade classrooms, and I have all summer to get in the mindset of teaching little ones, which is a lot better than the 3 days I had to get ready to teach 5th graders for the first time.
For the last two years, I’ve taught Language Arts & Social Studies. Now, I’m off to teach all subjects, including technology and engineering, as the new school is a STEM school (Science Technology Engineering Math). This will be a big departure from what I’m used to. The last 2 schools I’ve taught at have focused on the Arts. I see it as a challenge to look forward to and embrace.
The first lockdown I ever experienced was teaching 4th grade in La Puente. It was a year after Columbine, and there was some police activity near our school. I closed the blinds, locked the doors, turned off the lights, and the kids and I got on the floor and stayed silent for a few minutes until we got the all clear.
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