Teaching in a Place Like Mayberry

Andy Griffith was one of my favorite shows when I was growing up. Little did I know, I would end up working at an elementary school in a town like Mayberry for most of my career. 

As I return to teaching after my brief year of retirement, I've been contemplating what a blessing it is to teach in Utah's own little Mayberry. Remember Opie's teacher, Miss Crump? 

Helen Crump's got nothing on me. Well, okay, she may have been dating the sheriff of Mayberry, but I feel like I live in a rural paradise, where everybody knows my name, and I feel like I have the respect a teacher deserves here. The parents and community are so supportive of our elementary school, which makes my job as a teacher so much easier.

If it takes a village to raise a child, you better have a lot of willing villagers if you're trying to teach a whole class full of children. Lucky for me, I had the best village of all, a down-home place like Mayberry, as I took on the task of teaching my fifth graders.

Did I mention I had 35 students my last year? Did I tell you that as the inclusion teacher, I had three children who were mainstreamed into my classroom through the special needs program? Did you know one of my sweeties was battling glaucoma at the tender age of ten, and was learning Braille to help her adjust as her eyesight worsened? Did I tell you that I had several of the smartest kids I've ever taught?

Adia and I showing off our leopard spots.  She is learning
Braille so she can continue her love of reading later in life.

I laugh as I read articles about the inclusion of special needs children with "typical children." Typical covers the gamut, I guess. Any regular ed classroom is filled with "typical" children, meaning, any child who isn't covered in the special needs program.  In any given mix, a teacher is going to have children who are unmotivated, dyslexic, learning disabled, emotionally troubled, neglected, shy, gifted, athletic, and, if we're lucky, a few who are simply healthy, happy, and well-rounded.

Our challenge is meeting all of our students' needs, and helping them all to progress from where they are academically to the next level.  No child left behind? With this big bunch, any day was a good day when I got all of their names straight, and remembered who the leader was. There were some days I was so busy teaching children, the curriculum may have not been my biggest priority.

Adam and Mrs. V

I believe it does take a village to raise a child. We had so many good people in our village to help us succeed last year. I could never have done my job without the many adults who were involved in our classroom.  

First, and foremost, I would like to thank my special needs assistants. These paraprofessionals were my lifeline when days were chaotic. Our liaison with the Utah School for the Blind made sure that Adia had worksheets and textbooks with print that was large enough for her to read. My fifth grade team was so supportive of what we were trying to do with maximum inclusion. They each willingly taught science to my class without an instructional assistant so our dear assistants could have a lunch break. 

Every teacher needs a parent like Becky!

The parents of this group of children were phenomenal. We were linked by email and texts. If I ever needed anything, I would send out a quick message, and I always received the help and supplies I needed. (BIG TIP FOR TEACHERS: Collect parent emails at the beginning of the year, and send class emails whenever you need to update families or send reminders.) There was never a shortage of parent volunteers with this class.

One mother in particular, Becky, made it possible for me to attend planning meetings with my team by teaching wonderful hands-on art lessons to my large class. One day each month, my room was filled with the fresh scent of citrus, classical music, and an energetic art teacher who wanted to get my kids excited about the arts. I couldn't have had better support from the administration, my team, and the children's parents.

The biggest blessing I had in our little village was the children in our classroom. These kids supported one another in ways that made teaching such a large group manageable.  In a class this size, just like in a large family, there were those who took on the roles of mentors, peer tutors, and big brothers and sisters.

One of Seth's goals was to complete a worksheet, copying his numbers from 1-50.  Mrs. V and I weren't having much success getting him motivated to look at it, let alone complete it. Nash offered to take him out in the hall where it was less distracting, and help him get it done.  I honestly got busy and forgot my boys were even out there, when Mrs. Anderson came in laughing.  

"Do you know how amazing that Nash is? He is out there singing the numbers to Seth while Seth writes them down. He's singing, 'You just wrote a tweeeenty. Now you're gonna write a twenty-ooo-oone. Twenty-one...twenty-one...you're writing a twenty-one. Good job.  After twenty-one, you're gonna write a twenty-two...'"

The day that Seth finished the whole paper was a BIG DEAL. Finally, in January of his fifth grade year, he completed an entire worksheet. The whole class cheered and clapped when we found out he had accomplished his goal. The next day, he and I celebrated the way we do in fifth grade when the kids pass of their big math goal;  we went to Bullies across the street for a treat.

At the beginning of the year, I just paid for a whole class's worth of milkshakes so I could take a small group over each month to celebrate their accomplishments without worrying about cash. There was only one problem. Seth didn't like milkshakes, but he DID like funnel fries. I called in my order like I always did, early in the morning when they were busy prepping for their lunch crowd.

"Bullies."  I recognized the voice right away.

"Cassie, it's Mrs. Jackson.  I have a student who doesn't want a milk shake.  Could I get funnel fries instead?"

"Is this for Seth?"

"Yes, it is!"

"We'd be happy to make some funnel fries for Seth!"  You just gotta love small town service.

Brandy Schaugaard, the owner of Bullies, was another key person in our village. Every month when I took my students to her locally-owned fast food restaurant, she would always make a big deal out of the kids, and praise them for being so smart.  She would take a picture of us all together before we walked back to school. Bullies doesn't open until 11 for lunch, but she was always happy to unlock the doors for us at 10:15 so we could come during our morning recess. I loved the special treatment Brandy always gave us.

If you can't picture what it's like to live in this little paradise, just imagine Opie, Aunt Bea and Andy Taylor in Mayberry. That's just a glimpse of the kind of village we have here.  I count myself lucky to be a teacher in such a wonderful place with such wonderful people.

To read more about these amazing kids, and what made the difference in this exceptional year,  check out:  The Secret of the Best School Year Ever. If you've never tried Morning Meetings with your class, I highly recommend them!

I wish this were not so blurry, but the thing that is so clear to see in this picture is
how comfortable Adam is with Mrs. Anderson.

Edith Bunker Is My Soul Sister

No sooner had the little Honda motor bike been loaded in my Highlander, when I was overtaken by fumes coming from the bike's engine. The smell was so strong, it would be like transporting an oil refinery in my vehicle. I could barely breathe. Although it was hot as blazes, I rolled down all of the windows, and turned on the air-conditioning full blast. I was beginning to question my own sanity at this point. Hauling this load of toxic fumes in my car could not be good for me or my lungs. My head began to hurt. Why had I agreed to this???

This would be another of my shining moments, another jewel in my crown that would provide ammo for a husband who likes to tease me about being like Edith Bunker. I admit that I can be gullible, and I seriously ask questions that make him ask me, "REALLY?" But I think one of my bigger faults is not asking ENOUGH of the RIGHT questions. I could save myself a lot of heart ache and misery by asking more questions.                                                                                                           The things a mother will do for a son. My oldest child is a bargain shopper. He is constantly scanning Craigslist and the classifieds for killer deals. Occasionally, I am lured into helping him obtain these items because our home is in the northern end of the state and his is in the southern end. A good deal is a good deal, if logistics can be managed.

Dylan had purchased this motor bike. A miniature Honda thing, a Honda 50, I believe. My son is over six feet tall. After teasing him about looking like a clown in the circus if he were to ride that thing, and questioning his sanity, I finally agreed that I would drive out into the middle of nowhere (Tooele, Utah) to pick up his latest toy. After I drove back out onto the freeway, I knew I needed some advice.

Thank heavens for cell phones. I asked my husband what he would recommend to reduce the strong smell in my car.  

"You need to seal off the engine. Stop at a grocery store and buy some Cling-Free." How strange, I thought.  Cling-Free?  Who would've thought? Wrapping the engine in fabric softener sheets just might make the car smell better, too!

Not one to question, just one of my many shortcomings, I made a bee-line for the nearest store. They didn't sell Cling-Free. I went to another store. They didn't sell Cling-Free. Maybe Cling-Free was a thing of the past. Being a resourceful woman, I determined that any fabric softener sheet would probably work, and being a thrifty woman, I bought the generic brand of sheets. I wondered how in the world I would be able to make them "stick" to the engine.  So I also bought some garbage bags (how clever, maybe it would hold the nasty stink in, too) AND some tape to wrap everything around the reeking engine, and some aspirin for my pounding head.

Ha! It kind of helped. It was definitely better; that's for sure. I drove for the next three hours with that foul-smelling motor bike in the back of my SUV, wishing I hadn't ever agreed to take it back to the big boy. There was a battle of odors going on in the back of my vehicle, but thankfully, I was catching nice wafts of fabric softener in between the assaults of gasoline and oil odors.

My husband called later that evening to see how things had gone. "I was so grateful for your suggestion.  At first, I wasn't sure about the fabric softener sheets, but by wrapping them in garbage bags, it lessened the smell considerably."

"Fabric softener sheets?" he questioned. "Why did you buy THOSE?"

"Didn't you say to get Cling-Free?"  He was dumbfounded.  

"Yeah. Cling-Free. You know the plastic wrap you put on leftovers?  THAT Cling-Free!  That's what I meant."

"OHHHHHH.  CLING WRAP!!!"  I laughed. "Why didn't you say so? That would've worked really well, I bet!"  

He continued to tease me about my dorky tendencies. I'm his Edith Bunker, he says. Well, I think he's my Archie. As I recall, Archie had some confusion with certain vocabulary, too. Being too specific in word usage with a word geek can backfire. We assume you know your stuff, the more specific you are. I know exactly what Cling-Free is. I also know what Cling Wrap is. It is just unfortunate I did not clarify our terminology before taking that fateful three hour ride which may or may not have killed off some of my much-needed brain cells. This Edith may need them in the future to decipher more advice from my dear Archie. ;-)