September 19, 1968

 

     This is my annual post to honor my father who was killed when his plane went down just three miles short of the runway in Ubon, Thailand. following a mission in an F-16 fighter jet over Vietnam.  I had just turned seven years old, when life, as I knew it, was turned upside down. 

     As I reflect on this day, I firmly believe that this traumatic event has shaped me into who I am today.  You see, in my seven year-old brain, my daddy died while I was at school, so if I went to school, my mommy would die, too.  I can vividly remember hiding under the dining room table, sobbing, and refusing to come out.

     Enter Maxine Moore and Louise Schuman.  Mrs. Moore was my second grade teacher and Mrs. Schuman was the counselor at Hawthorne Elementary School in Lincoln, Nebraska.  These two women were instrumental in getting me back into the school.  Mrs. Moore would meet me at the door, before school started, and let me come to the classroom before the rest of the class arrived. I would pass out morning work, draw pictures, or sharpen pencils. Oftentimes, Mrs. Schuman would be there, as well.  While I thought they were just hanging out, they were quietly helping me feel comfortable before the other students arrived.

     A year later, my mom remarried and we moved two hours from Lincoln, to the farm.  The farm was, and still is heaven!  My brother and I were also just a mile from our cousins. I had a horse and so many farm cats!!  However, my mom saw the importance in retaining that relationship with those who had helped me through my darkest time, so she kept our dentist in Lincoln.  She'd make our appointments for later in the day and afterwards, we'd always see Mrs. Moore.  

     Mrs. Moore even came to my high school graduation! When it was time for college, I decided that I wanted to be a teacher, like Mrs. Moore.  So, it was back to Lincoln for me, to attend the University of Nebraska.  Mrs. Moore continued to be there for me.  I would go to her home to study or talk about what I was learning and feed off of her experience.  If I didn't go back to the farm on the weekend, there was an open-door policy for Sunday dinner at Mrs. Moore's home.

     It is because of Mrs. Moore's strong influence that I teach the way I do.  I firmly believe in the coined educational phrase, "Maslow before Bloom," meaning that each child's physiological and social emotional needs must be met before any deep learning can happen. Her impact on my life was so great that I dedicated the book I wrote to her.

 

I Cried...

      This past week, I cried at school.  I cried because no child, at the ages of four to five years old, should have experienced the kind of pain that makes them lash out for reasons unknown to me.  What could have possibly happened in their short lives that causes them to destroy everything in their path? To become so upset that they aren't able to be consoled or helped to calm down?

     I cried for the the student who has had unspeakable things done to them by someone who should be keeping them safe, not doing something to them that would make your skin crawl. All I can do for this child is to provide a safe, loving environment. To listen when they feel like talking. To do everything in my power to let them know that nothing can hurt them when they are with me.

     I cried because of what preschool has become.  No longer is preschool about exposure to experiences that they have not been able to experience.  It's now about preparation for kindergarten.  It about arbitrary "learning loss."  If I hear that term again, I'm going to scream!

     What if teaching were about meeting kids where they are and engaging them to go further than ever thought possible.  What if we measured learning gains, instead of holding children accountable for some set of standards that some big curriculum publishing company decided they should know at a given age?  Our children are not machines!  They are special, unique individuals.

     The social-emotional needs of our children are higher than ever.  Last year,  I was incensed by the term "Covid kids."  The children in my classroom now haven't known anything else!  They have only known some form of social isolation. The Corona Virus hit my area of the United States in March of 2020.  The students that are currently in my class were only two years old at that time.  Their social/emotional needs are HUGE! Let's focus on that, shall we?  It's the only way to help our students be successful. e

     Let us be a voice for our children! Let us hear them, protect them, and love them for the unique, individual, truly amazing people that they are.  Each child!