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.

The Secret of the Best School Year Ever

Luck of the draw...fate...karma...call it what you will, but I can see in retrospect that there was some divine intervention in the combining of the students assigned to my class  my last year of teaching. I carry in my heart such tender feelings about those children that I worry that writing about our experiences will somehow lessen, or cheapen them.  I do not want that.  Nor do I want to try to glorify a situation that was challenging at times, and made us all dig a little deeper to make things work.

There are some things better left unspoken, but I want to attempt to put into words some of what we experienced last year.  I have never had a class full of children that rallied around each other to the degree that those kids did. What was different about these particular children? Why were they so unique? What was it that our class had last year that previous classes lacked? We had a secret weapon. We had an ace up our collective sleeve. We had something everyone else wishes they could have. We had THE BOYS.

As school was winding down to a close the previous year, I was approached by Seth's mom Becky. Everyone knows Seth; everyone knows Becky if you go to our school.  Seth began his kindergarten year as one of the children in our special needs program at our school. He was diagnosed with a "fractured form" of Down's Syndrome as a little boy. He has some of the characteristics of children with Down's, but he has some other traits that are not associated with that particular syndrome. Becky wants what every mother wants:  the best for her child.  She has been Seth's advocate ever since he was born.  No one can accuse her of not being a good mom.  

Becky asked if I would consider being the "inclusion teacher" the next year. Our special needs program works with the homeroom teachers to see to it that the children are included in the regular classroom as much as possible. Here was the catch:  because we only had one assistant for the three boys coming into fifth grade, if I agreed to take Seth, I agreed to take them all.

Becky warned me, "You will never meet a child with less academic skills than Seth. But you will never meet a child with a greater capacity for love. He is very social, and he needs to be with his peers."

It only took me a moment. First of all, I am a professional educator. I'm no super hero, and I couldn't promise anything spectacular, but I would never refuse to have a child in my class, nor would the other teachers with whom I taught. Second of all, I have had many special needs children in my class over the years, and it has always been a pretty positive experience. And last of all, I have a soft spot for these kids.  So...I agreed.

What have I done? I thought later. The fifth grade classes were going to be huge; all of us would have at least thirty children in our homerooms. There would only be ONE assistant to help with these three very different boys. What was I thinking? My last year of teaching should be EASY...not one full of so many challenges. It was done. I would never go back on my word. And so the new year began.

As it turned out, the boys became the catalyst for all things compassionate and loving in fifth grade. They helped us all get in touch with that softer side in each of us. Whenever the class noise level was rising, it would agitate Adam. All I would have to do is softly remind the class that we needed to respect those around us who don't care for noise, and they would settle down quickly.  The kids got to know each other well, and they were careful to respect each other's differences and strengths.

What made the difference this year? I can think of several things, but I think the biggest thing we did right was our Morning Meeting. That wonderful concept is something I used to do when I taught first grade, but after watching my colleague, Annie Hunt, have so much success with it with her fifth graders, I decided to try it. We held our meeting when we had everyone all together.

During our morning meeting, we took turns celebrating our little triumphs, and talking about things that needed improvement.  If kids needed support or help, this was the time of day they mentioned it. We tried to focus on things for which we were grateful. The kids learned quickly that they were always welcome to laugh WITH a classmate, but never AT a classmate.

One morning meeting in the middle of winter, the boys seemed more hyper than usual. Several were jockeying into position around Seth.  There was a palpable positive energy.  "Seth has something to say," one of the kids said. Seth tucked his head and started to grin.

"I got a medal," he all but whispered into the collar of his shirt.

"What?  You got a medal?  In what?"  
We wanted to know more! It turns out that Seth had won a gold medal at a tournament on the previous Saturday. He had wrestled two of my better athletes to take the gold. The "losers" were beaming.  They were so proud to be a part of Seth's happiness.  My throat tightened and my eyes stung. How could I not love these people?

The morning meeting gave all of us a chance to practice speaking in public, work on our grammar, and show compassion for each other. It really didn't take long for the children to feel safe enough to share their deepest fears and their most profound joys.

Adam has many gifts that are still being discovered. He has an astounding ability to recall dates and numbers, and can spell extremely difficult words with ease. There were days during our meeting that he would point to every child and tell them their birthdate.  Once he hears a date, he doesn't forget it. The children would applaud him in admiration.

He could also name every child in our class in alphabetical order, starting anywhere on the list. This came in handy when I couldn't remember who the leader was, which was pretty often.  All I would have to do is look at Adam, and he would tell me.

One day before school started, Adam greeted one of the assistants, wishing her husband a happy birthday.  

"Oh, Adam, it's not my husband's birthday. His birthday is --- oh, my goodness! It IS today! Thank you, Adam!"  and she quickly made a phone call to wish her husband a happy birthday.

Adam had several friends who would help him feel safe and secure at school. Sometimes when he seemed nervous or agitated during our meetings, Nash would sit closer to him and just rub his back. Brooklyn would talk to him, reassuring him with comforting words. I could always count on Talmage, Kenzie, and Ethan to help with the boys. Actually, there wasn't anyone who minded helping. Every child helped me in so many ways.  I don't know if they'll ever know how much each one of them meant to me. I never could have taught 35 students as well as I did without the cooperation and dedication of each of those wonderful children!

Everyone knows kids can be cruel.  Most of us learn not to expose ourselves in public to avoid scrutiny and derision. Over the course of our year together, the children felt safe enough to tell us things that made them cry. They shared feelings of loss and insecurity. They revealed things that were difficult for them to understand. They also shared their funny stories and laughter.

Calvin loves to play.  In his world, the line between reality and make-believe seems to get a little

blurred, so my biggest goal for him during our meeting was to tell us something that was true about him and his day. Nash would whisper into his ear things they had done together at recess. Friends would remind him of accomplishments he could share with us. There are two morning meetings I will never forget.

One is the day Calvin brought his dog. Once he gets a good idea, he doesn't want anyone to forget about it. He must've asked every day for weeks if he could bring his dog to school. Every time I would tell him he'd have to ask his mom. Finally, the day came, and Calvin was able to share his dog with his friends. He loved looking at this picture of the day his dog came for show and tell.

The other unforgettable moment is when Calvin showed us his mask. Ever since he had been in the third grade program, he had asked his third grade teacher if he could be Annie Bangs, a fictional character with long blonde hair and a very scary face.  Secretly, Annie Bangs terrified Calvin, but he really wanted to be able to wear the mask and be scary on the stage. After three years of asking if he could be Annie Bangs, his former teacher approached me about letting him take the stage as the star.

Mrs. V, Calvin's assistant, said as she helped him practice his part, his heart would race and his breathing would become shallow. He was doing something that terrified him and thrilled him at the same time. We could all learn a little bit about courage from Mr. Calvin.

The day that he showed our homeroom his Annie Bangs mask, the children responded with terror and laughter. Calvin loved it. At the end of the year, Calvin's mother wrote the most wonderful book for her son for his fifth grade publishing project.  We included all of the pictures I had taken of him as Annie Bangs, and the sweet notes of admiration his classmates had written to him the day they saw his performance. They praised him for being so scary and so brave. I don't think he will ever forget that experience either.

During the month of September last year, I sent Seth's mom a letter. I will share part of that here with you, with her permission:

"Simply put, Becky, thank you for the privilege of having the special needs children in my fifth grade class this year. It has been such a sweet experience to watch my students rally around the boys. They watch out for them, take up for them, and are very generous with praise whenever the boys are actively participating with our class. I have been moved to tears in watching my little heroes befriend these angelic children. I remind myself often that the way we treat these children is a test I want us all to pass with flying colors. And so far, my expectations have been exceeded in every way."

"So, thank you. I will confess that I had serious doubts about my stamina, energy, and patience entering into my 30th year of teaching. I am so glad I said YES when you asked if I would take them. I know enough about these children to know many blessings come to those who love them, and I can use all of the blessings I can get."

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