Orchestration

My life is good.  I am blessed.  My life is good.  I am blessed.  If I repeat myself enough, I'll be able to pull myself up by my bootstraps and buck up a little bit.  Again, I find myself avoiding my blog.  I'm afraid to dig too deeply into my thoughts.  If I even begin to scratch the surface the wall that I have been so carefully constructing may crumble and then poor Doug will be left with a blubbering mess of me.

Thanksgiving was wonderful and awful.  Awful because I had to work.  National Day is coming up and celebrations have already begun.  Our morning tabour assembly has turned into quite a production filled with skits, speeches, competitions, dances and demonstrations.  The boys show up in the morning with scarves, hats, waving flags and balloons.  Their faces are painted with the UAE colors of red, black, white and green. Our normal 15 minute tabour has turned into a 45 minute production. 

Yesterday morning after making my rounds and wishing my fellow Americans a Happy Thanksgiving, I found myself volunteering to be on one end of a tug-o-war rope.  When I volunteered and swished out in my long flouncy skirt to yank on a thick rope, I thought I was headed toward the winning side.  I was wrong.  I didn't pay close attention and while I was flexing my muscles at my boys, I missed the Arabic version of, "Ready, set, GO!"  Next thing I knew I was trying to dig in with my Birkenstocks on a slick brick courtyard floor.  I didn't even have time to kick off my shoes and coach my team mates with a rhythmic, "PULL!  PULL! PULL!"  We lost.  I was sad.  Personally, I think the sides were stacked against us.  Oh well.

It was hard to watch the celebration with all of the red, green, white and black and not see one single turkey feather, Indian headress, or Pilgrim collar and buckles.   This morning, though, after church, Doug and I made some stops in the city.  We ended up literally, going to three, yes, three, different grocery stores to get the things we needed.  At our second stop, I saw Christmas trees.  A store here called, Carrefore, had a good sized display set up near the entrance to the store.

I can't help but think of all the times at home when I have walked into Meijers, or K-Mart, or the mall and have felt unindated with all of the commercial hype of glitz and blitz and the not so subliminal messages of, "Buy! Buy! Buy!  Spend! Spend! Spend!"  And I have turned away, or shaken my head and tisked my tongue to grumble, "Oh, good grief,  what will they think of next?"

But, today, felt different.  Here it is Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving.  By this time last year, Doug and I had already collected the mandatory lists from all of our children, we had strategized our plan of attack, and would have already been standing in lines wrapped throughout the stores with our coveted prizes in hand smirking at the latecomers rushing through the store doors.

Today, when we entered the main aisle of Carrefore, off to my right, I saw it... the sparkle, the glimmer, the glow, the twinkle and the comfortable, good old feeling of  "home."  It was like adjusting my shoulders into just the right fitting coat.  For a moment, the tension seemed to leave that space between my shoulders and for a moment, I imagined I might be in the center aisle at Meijer Thrifty Acre.  For a moment it was good.  There were several Christmas trees set up, blue and red and silver and white.  My eyes drank in the shiny blue bulbs, the silver garland and the twinkling white lights.  Home.  I miss home.

I miss my children, I miss my family, I miss my animals.  I miss pumpkin pie and grape jelly and toothpicks with dental floss on the end.  I miss my colleagues and I can't believe I'm saying this, I miss my Reading Recovery On-going Professional Development meetings.  I miss being able to discuss theory and problem solving with my Reading Recovery colleagues.  It is a good feeling to be challenged and to be made accountable and to have to search through the writings of Marie Clay to find words of affirmation or words of wisdom to guide my teaching.

Each day in my classroom is a struggle.  I struggle to find the fewest just right words to communicate to my students what it is I want them to learn.  I struggle to hold their attention and to not become the Charlie Brown teacher sounding like the honking horn.  I struggle to get to each student.  I struggle to make my room a print rich environment with very limited resources.  I struggle to meet the high expectations of my employers and administrators.  I struggle with finding the time to plan and to find resources to use to teach the guidelines.  I struggle to find the patience to endure just one more meeting for "only a few minutes."  Well, I only have a few minutes everyday.  

I struggle with patience for well-meaning folks that want to provide me with activities to teach CVC words to my first graders with  early emergent writing skills.  I struggle with patronizing individuals who want to provide professional development to show me how to use a big book.  I struggle with people who want me to teach word families and to use only visual information and expect me to teach not using meaning and structural cues.   I struggle with what I know are best practices and with what I know are not. I struggle with keeping my integrity intact and my ego in check. 

And yet, I see my boys grow.  Sometimes, I look back over my day and I think of the conversations I've had with the boys.  Somehow, we are communicating.  Today, at least 3 or 4 boys let me know they saw me in the Tug-o-war.  I think they got a kick out of it.  Each day, we have conversations about where we are going and when we will go.  We have built things together, we do projects together.  I think they want to take care of me.  They have taken stacks of books out of my hands to carry for me to put them away.  

Two days ago, they were so wound up.  They would not settle down, it didn't matter what I did I could not get them all to listen, I was angry and frustrated and eventually I was literally moved to tears, and when they looked at me and saw my distress, they stopped, they settled and they began to listen.  I could see the compassion in their eyes and the age old "man-look" of panic and confusion and concern for the crying female, and could tell they just wanted to make everything better.

They know when they are being naughty.   Yesterday, I had a list of several boys that needed to stay in during their break for being disruptive.  I began by letting the boys go to break one-by-one.  Then, the rest of them ganged up on me.  Somehow, more than one slipped through the door and they were gone!  Like a pack of wolves out the door they went.  Well, I had already corraled two of the boys on the list and they stayed dutifully behind and put their heads down on their desks.  I was alone and couldn't chase after the other offenders without losing the two I had.  Within a few minutes, much to my surprise, I had one of my runner rule-breakers come straggling back through my door.  He had willingly given up his freedom and came back to pay his dues, or perhaps he was just returning to the scene of the crime, or perhaps, just maybe, I did get through to him some of my expectations.  I'm not sure how it all came about, and then, not one more, but two more of my buddies came back.  Of course they giggled and continued to cause me more grief before I could get them to settle down long enough to think they were being punished instead of me.  Maybe, just maybe we are making progress.

There are two things I know I am doing well with my boys.  Those of you who know me well won't be surprised.  First,they are beginning to write.  They love their journals, and I love their journals.  Yesterday, I told them to draw pictures of the UAE flag in their journals and to write/draw about the National Day celebrations.  Beautiful flags were made, but to my concern, mafi-letters (no letters) mafi words.  I could tell a mini lesson was in order.  With much difficulty and energy I gathered them all on the rug.  The next challenge was to get them to "shouf" look at me and then "ismak" listen.  Ten minutes later, I was able to introduce El Konin boxes and stretching words by saying the word "f-l-a-g" slowly.  I drew attention to the "f"sound, we made links to the Zoo Phonics fish by putting our palms together and wiggling our thumbs making the "f" sound, and then.... I drew the letter F.  "F_l_a_g" I said as I dragged my finger beneath the word.  "Flag/fish", I made links to the initial letter.  I saw lightbulbs go on!  The room was freakin' flashing with lightbulbs all over that room!  F's were drawn, flag was stretched and was written "f l g" , M's for mangos and B's for burgers were drawn and written and UAE started emerging on journal pages and finally to end the day, a pizza was drawn and when I pointed out the word, "PIZZA" next to the pizza on our ABC chart, awareness dawned and my writers emerged and a word, an entire word "PIZZA" was written and read aloud next to a drawing of a pizza, "Miss Sheri, Pizza!" Abdul Satar proudly read.  Meaning, structure and visual - orchestration of the three cues needed for reading. .

And so I struggle, but we are learning.

Scrags

I've been away for awhile.  I've been hiding within myself, just trying to hold on.  Life is not bad for me, it is just different.  Things are going on at home that occupy my mind.  First and foremost, the blessed arrival of Baby Ella.  She is beautiful and arrived without much muss and fuss, on my end anyhow.  Sadie and Jesse may not agree.  Each time I see a newborn baby in this land, I wilt a little bit, and I watch grandparents playing with infants with a great deal of envy.  Envy is not a good trait, I must try to count my blessings.

Doug is here with me now.  It has been difficult to find a quiet time and spot to be alone with my thoughts  and to blog.  My apologies.  We are not tripping over each other's space now.  We have moved into our villa.  I have lived for eighty-nine days in a hotel.  It was a nice hotel and encompassed at least three different moves into four different rooms and two different hotels.  I suppose my relief at having our home now does not define me as a world traveler.  It was fun a little while.  I never imagined I would be homeless for so long!  All is better now.

Our villa is out in the middle of nowhere, and I LOVE it!  We are away from the city.  It takes us at least 25 minutes to get to the outskirts of the city where we can get food and household items.  No more running to the mall next door for supplies for tomorrow's lesson or for tonight's fast food dinner.  I'm  going to need to be more organised in my thinking and planning.  That's okay.  We do have a new grocery store only about ten minutes away.  My favorite part of the entire store is the section in the back that is labeled, "Non-Muslims Only."  They stock delightful items like pork chops and pork loins and bacon and sausage and hotdogs and bologna and pork rinds and salami and all of the things that I have been deprived of since I left home.  They have ...... HAM!!!  Honey ham and smoked ham and deli ham, I have SO missed having my favorite ham and cheese sandwich.  I have to admit, I have had bacon for breakfast for the last three days.  It's all gone now, I think I'm okay with not having bacon for awhile.  I just needed to work through the feelings of deprivation.

I have so much to catch up on.  I will start with a little adventure I had at school one day.  We have a room called our LT room.  In this locked room, we have a bathroom and a sink and fridge and table and counters for workspace.  It's like a nice little teachers' lounge.  I may duck in there every few days to use the facilities or to snatch a few moments of peace and quiet.  One day, after hanging out for 10 minutes, or so, I was casually looking through some big books laying on the counter when I heard a little whimpering, "meow."  I looked out the window to the outside yard thinking there might be one of the wild cats outside.  No cat.  "Meow, meow, MEOOWWW," I heard.  At that point I determined my feline friend and I were sharing the same quarters.  So, I began to search about.  Obviously, he wanted to be found.  I lifted table skirts and peeked about, at that point I decided I needed reinforcements.  So, I went in search of one of our workers. 

She was busy with one of her never ending mopping chores, but she was more than happy to put aside her mop and help me with my quest.  She got down on her hands and knees and peeked beneath the counter, and sure enough, there was this little bit of scraggly thing.  Orange and white striped hugging the back wall just waiting for some one to find him.  Of course the whining, " meow, meow, MEOOOOW!!!"  helped with the search.  After some poking about with a broom stick, the worker lady snatched him out from under the counter and wrapped him up in a paper towel.  He didn't look quite so cuddly now.  Actually, kind of scratchy and just a little bit creepy.  He had one third eyelid that sort of refused to go back in place and covered part of his green eye.  He looked like he really needed some one to love him. 

I could have easily fallen in love with scragglepuss, but then I would be stuck with a problem.  It would be a big problem, because I would end up forking out big bucks to take the little feller home with  me when my time is up here.  Fortunately, I had a good idea for a home for him.  The worker lady and I stuck the little guy in a cupboard until I could commandeer a suitable box for him.  I sent a few text messages and talked to a few colleagues. One of my co-teachers warned me not to let him out into the courtyard because she was certain the boys would kill him....gulp. 

Plan A included Michelle.  Plan B involved letting him loose outside the school to fend for himself.  I didn't like plan B very well, Plan C was as a last resort bringing him home with me, I didn't think the hotel would look favorably upon Plan C, so I was really counting on Plan A working out.  Michelle texted back saying that, yes she wanted the cat but would have to talk to her husband first.  I anxiously awaited her next response.  Finally, at day's end, I collected my furry friend, now nicely deposited in a box with airholes, and called Michelle.  Well, she hadn't yet talked the matter over with her husband, but decisions were made in a hurry and before any minds could be changed, I quickly made my way over to her house. 

It was love at first hiss.  When they lifted the cover off the box and made the first cautious effort to stroke the little darling, kitty reacted with a great big, "hisssspt!"  We all went, "Awww..."  Michelle had the biggest, happy grin on her face.  I knew they were going to be a happy family, and I beat a hasty retreat back to the city.

The next day, Doug and I went out to our villa to clean up and begin to get ready to move in.  Michelle and family just happen to live right across the street.  I was really afraid to call her.  I figured they would love me or hate me after 24 hours, I had visions of a wild fleabitten hellcat living next door, but I decided no news was good news.  I sucked it up and cowardly sent a message enquiring after the wellfare of  "meowface."   Michelle called right back and told me to come visit.  I tripped across the street and was met with the site of fuzzy little scraggly kitty all nestled up snug beneath daddy's chin.  That silly little cat is one of the cutest little ugliest little cats I've ever met.  When he's lifted up and his paws are reaching for something to catch, his legs stretch way out and are long and seem way out of proportion to the rest of his body.  His ears are just way too big for his pointy little head and puts me in mind somewhat of a gremlin.... Awwww..... I quickly dubbed myself  "Auntie," and received the position of Kittysitter when they go away on excursions.  Ahh, home sweet home.