SOLSC: A Visit From the Director

We could have been working on our writing curriculum.  We could have been reviewing the accreditation materials.  Instead we were telling stories.  There were stories about our students, and there were stories about our own children.  The room was filled with laughter.

That’s when I saw him.  He opened the door to the classroom, and quietly entered.  No one skipped a beat.  Stories cascaded from one another.  He took a seat. It was a rowdy scene as we joyfully celebrated the funny things kids say and do.  It’s not mean.  It’s part of the craft – part of loving kids.  Like a group of camp counselors, we delighted in a child-free moment.

There was a brief lull.  In the seconds before another story could emerge, our director spoke up.  ”I remember when…” He regales us with an anecdote about a friend’s daughter.  And this is the catalyst for another surge of storytelling.  This is what makes us a community.

“Stories are there to help us make sense of the world and our place in it, and to share it with those who, by necessity or invitation, are in our circle.”
- Stephanie Leibowitz

SOLSC: Dancing with Her Mom

Her mom didn’t want to come.  ”I don’t speak so good English,” she tells me.  I try to explain that this is not a problem.  ”You can speak in Russian.  She really wants you to come.”  When A saw her mother, she begged.  With her hands clasped in prayer, she pleaded, “Please!” The last thing I saw as I left was A erasing her name from the student-led conference sign-up sheet.

But, when I arrived at school today – her name was back on the schedule.  When A arrived with her mom, I squealed in delight, “You came!”  A was so proud. She glowed with joy as she shared her portfolio.  As they thumbed through the pages they laughed and giggled.

As part of her conference, A was excited to show her mom the Brain Dance, a major component of our unit of inquiry on dance. And so they danced.

Dancing

SOLSC: As If He’d Always Been There

When the new boy arrived today, I was so sad to tell him that the one boy in our class was out sick.  I was sure the new kid would be lonely and friendless on his first day.  Speaking only a few words in English, I was having a hard time connecting.  At recess I took him outside and introduced him to the fourth grade boys who were playing soccer.  He jumped right in.

By second recess they were cheering him on, and yelling for him to pass the ball their way.  On our way into lunch, I asked the new boy to wait for me while I put my coat away.  ”I’ll show you how to buy lunch,” I said.  From behind me, however, came the voice of J, one of the fourth grade boys.  ”I’ll show him, Ms. M,” he said.  ”Come on,” said J as he motioned the new boy to walk with him toward the cafeteria.

When I arrived in the cafeteria, J was chatting away with the new boy.  ”Do you want one of those?” J said while pointing at a hot dog.  A few of the other fourth grade boys had also chosen the hot dog.  The new kid just nods, and puts it on his tray.  The new boy follows J to a table full of fourth and fifth grade boys who warmly welcome and adopt the new kid, as if he’d always been there.

 

Creamy Red Sauce

While dicing an onion, she melts 1/2 a stick of butter.  Once sautéed, the onions emit a sweet and pungent smell.  A cup of chicken broth is added to the pan, as well as a can of diced tomatoes.  The smell hits the roof of my mouth, kind of towards the back, and I stand up to get a better look.  She pours a 1/2 cup of red wine, the cheap stuff, and waits for the alcohol to burn off.  The sauce is a pool of blood, until she slowly drizzles in a 1/2 cup of cream.  Maroon fades to a fleshy pink.  She dips a spoon into the sauce and hands it to me for tasting.  Tangy and creamy, it is a tribute to simply good food.

SOLSC: The Beat Goes On

Throbbing to the beat of an unrelenting strobe light, human movement is reduced to mechanical gestures. It’s been seven years since my last visit.  My legs kick to 80′s classics remixed to a contemporary beat. Metallica is transformed into an urban mantra.  Guns and Roses are twisted into a dance wonder.  The floor is covered by the bouncing bodies of a generation educated by YouTube.

SOLSC: If You Give a Child a Map

Inside the book, we read about a boy who uses his imagination to travel to places he finds on a map.  We discover a seashore, an icy tundra and the lush Amazon.

I unroll a world map, just like the one in the story.  Our knees hold the edges down as we huddle around the colorful shapes of our nations.  Fingers point toward home: Finland, France, Estonia, Seattle, Holland, Uzbekistan…some of us don’t know where to place home.

“Where’s Japan?’ bellows N.  Fingers cover the islands.

“Yes, but it’s not really there anymore,” announces A.  ”It should be more over here,” and she drags her finger across the Pacific Ocean.  I confirm her assertion, “Yes, it’s said that Japan moved during the earthquake.  It was that big! It was the fifth largest earthquake in history.”

“I want to know where the biggest earthquake was,” N’s inquiry explodes the moment.  His body pulls away from the map. With a nod from me, he heads for the computer.  It turns out Japan’s earthquake is the fourth largest, and in 1950 Chile had the largest earthquake. Before I can learn how big the earthquake was, N is onto a new quest: the largest tsunami – Lituya Bay, Alaska.  His inquiry has drawn an audience, and we are all clustered around the computer when the bell rings.

“Ahhhh!” they groan.  ”Just one more question?!”

SOLSC: Standing Tall

His mother drops off a tray of cookies, a prompt reminder that it is N’s birthday.  Rubbing his eyes and unkept hair, N strolls into the classroom.

“Happy Birthday,” I bellow. He smiles sheepishly, shimmering with pleasure.

“Actually, Ms. M, “my mom says I’m not really nine until after noon.  She says I was born in the afternoon.” He squeals with the delight of a birthday that spans more than a morning.

 

…fast forward to lunch…

N and I run into each other by the microwave. “N!” I holler, “Happy Birthday! You are finally nine years old.”

“I am?” he questions.  ”Is it after noon?”

Note to self: plan mini-lesson on the concept of noon

“Yes. It is after noon.  You are NINE years old.” N glimmers.

 

…fast forward to next morning…

 

In the hallway N is hanging up his coat, when I emerge from the classroom. “Hey N! Did you have a nice birthday?” He nods his head enthusiastically.  ”Do you feel any older? Any taller, smarter?  Does it feel different being nine?”

“Nah,” he says, shrugging off my exuberance.

“Let me get a good look at you,” I say, taking a step back. My eyes look from his head to his toes.  I rub my chin in contemplation.  ”Yep!” I declare. “You are definetely taller.”

“Really?” The question pops out of his disbelief, and his spine extends.

“Oh yes,” I marvel. “You absolutely look more nine than yesterday.”