Need a Boost

I can't believe my second child is off to college this fall. Every time I see a young a family, I find myself saying, "Enjoy it!" even though I know those words fell on deaf ears when I heard them, oh about 5 minutes ago. But still, I am trying to enjoy it. I am trying to enjoy even this stage of college and not-quite-out-of-the-house-yet. My daughter insisted last week that she could just drive herself to a surgical procedure, "I AM 18, mom!" Yes, you are. And I'm going to enjoy even that remark!
A few weeks ago I accompanied her to college orientation. It was so wonderful being on a college campus and going to 'classes'. Even thought she's my second, I still needed orientation in a big way. One thing they reminded us as parents was about counseling services. "Everyone needs a boost now and then," they said, "That's what we're here for." It was so reassuring. I didn't even know I needed to hear that, but I did. I needed that boost. Even though Annie insists she is 18 and can handle any and everything, it's comforting to know there are people out there looking out for her and she can turn to them when she does need a boost.
Need a boost. This was something we often said in my house growing up. Was it a 70s thing? In our kitchen growing up, we had these big Early American chairs, that didn't easily glide across the floor. We didn't have booster seats or kid chairs so my younger brothers would often sit on the phone book (remember those?) at dinner. To climb up there you needed to hold the phone book still and swing your bum up on top. It helped to have a boost. "I need a boost!" someone would say. One person would hold the phone book and chair and then you could climb easily.
I also remember my cousins (I am one of 33 on my mother's side), heading off to the high school fields up the street to play and run around. Remember when kids did that? The fields were surrounded by big iron gates, but the older kids had found a way to climb in the fence at a low point as it scaled up the hill. It wasn't too too high for us to climb, but everyone under 10 needed a boost. The alternative was crawling on the asphalt through a little space at the corner of the gate - usually you came out the other side with lots of scrapes. So we would hold our hands out, fingers laced together and bend down for someone to step on them to get the boost they needed to climb over the fence. Once on the other side we could play in the big brick ticket booth, climb the bleachers, or hide under the honeysuckle and suck out honey to our hearts content. I can still remember the feeling of being hoisted over the fence, and of hoisting the younger kids. It is a great feeling either way - giving a boost and getting a boost. And maybe the best part is just knowing there is someone there to give you a boost, someone who will have your back and not let you fall as you take this risk, this big step, take on a new adventure. Someone who will bend down and let you use them to step up and get you where you need to go.
I think it works that way in parenting too. Saying "Enjoy it!" to the young mother in the grocery store is another way of giving a boost. You do make it through even though the days are long. And you survive. And I will survive college. Annie will too. She just may need a boost. And I may too.

Teaching Magic

There is a meme for teachers that reads, "Teachers Aren't on Summer Vacation, They are in Recovery." While that is certainly true on many levels, teachers are also reflective. We are out of school, but school's not out of us yet. We look back and wonder, did they learn everything? Did I leave a lasting impression? Did it work? Did we succeed? Did we fail? It is hard work being a teacher and with summer here, we can breathe and take account of all that happened. But I won't go on about that. I'd probably bore you to death with word wall philosophies and kidney versus horseshoe tables and time enough for recess and time enough for math and math centers and reading centers. I just want to share some of the funnier moments that stand out. 
Toward the end of the year, I found an old writing tablet that was titled "Cursive Writing Tablet." I was clearing out and thought the boys could use it for drawings and things. It sat on the writing table and the boys gathered around this alien piece of equipment wondering what it was. They began to wonder what it could possibly be. One kid, "It says Cursive Writing Tablet." Kid 2: "Yeah, but we don't know Cursive." Kid 3: "Yeah we're not allowed to do that." Kid 4: "Yeah but this takes your writing and turns it into cursive!" All the kids: "Oh Wow! That is so cool!" Me: Shaking My Head.  Why would they think that paper could magically turn their novice attempts at handwriting into cursive writing? I got a good laugh out of that.
Another day I told them that my partner teacher would be watching them while I went to a meeting. She was still in her classroom and they asked, in all innocence, if she could see through the wall. Really? I laughed out loud. They were completely serious. I was perplexed.
For Mother's Day we made a cookbook for their moms.  They wrote recipes as best as they could remember.  Here is one of my favorites:

Apple Bread

A slice of bread

1 ounce of milk

2 apples

½ ounce water

1 ounce flour

¼ ounce sugar.

Cut the apples into little pieces. She has a pan the size of the bread and she puts all the things in there. She puts it in the oven for 15-20 minutes at 199 degrees. And it comes out as a loaf. My mom cuts it into thickish slivers. Sometimes you put butter on top.

Isn't that the best! What wonderful innocence! Everything is magical! Apples turn into bread! Markings turn to cursive! Teachers see through walls! Maybe they think I teach magic.
When I first started teaching, I heard a story. If you walk into a kindergarten classroom and ask them to draw a picture of a dog driving a fire truck, the kids will ask, What color do you want the dog? How big do you want the fire truck? When you walk into a fourth grade classroom and ask them the same thing, they will look at you like you are crazy and tell you there is no such thing. I am so lucky to teach the littles who still believe in magic. Maybe they are onto something. Maybe I should start teaching that there is magic in the world. I try in some small ways. Like the idea that smiling makes everyone more beautiful. Doing something kind helps you feel better. Taking time to check on a friend makes our community stronger. Each act of kindness you do comes back to you. Always. Maybe it is all magical in their eyes. Maybe that's why they believe that magic must work with paper and seeing through walls and cooking. It must work in math too. You can take these numbers and symbols and turn them into complex problems that you can figure out and the answer will always work, forwards and backwards. That is pretty magical.  Reading too! It is a rather magical thing to teach. You take all these scratchings and marks and suddenly you can turn them into letters and sounds and words and sentences and stories and you are a reader. That is magic!
And maybe the most important lessons I've been teaching actually have taken hold. Maybe math shouldn't matter that much if kids are being kind. Maybe the smile is really the thing. It's kind of fun being a Magic Teacher.