IN HONOR OF THE QUIET HEROES--by Shelly Webb

 

We throw the word ‘hero’ around quite a bit in our society. We go to watch blockbuster movies like, ‘The Avengers’, ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’, ‘Batman’, ‘Spiderman’ and tons more. We also honor our military with the word ‘hero’, as we should, because they most certainly fit the definition. Heroes can be celebrities, singers, rock bands, sports stars, firefighters, really anyone that does a heroic deed, or exceeds the expectations of normal life.

A hero, according to researchers Franco, Blau, and Zimbardo, (three psychologist that have studied this topic more than most) is a person who, “acts voluntarily for the service of others who are in need, whether it is for an individual, a group, or a community. Performs actions without any expectation of reward or external gain.”

This week I watched two REAL LIFE heroes that I work with step up and “act voluntarily” for a student at our school that was in need. The student had received word that he was being removed from his current foster placement immediately. That may not sound like a big deal to some of us, but when you are ten-years-old and you’ve finally managed to make some relationships, friendships and have a sense of belonging in a school that resembles the closest thing you have to a family, it is a huge deal.

Kids need stability, we all agree on that. Unfortunately, there are countless children walking the halls of schools all across America that hail from unstable situations every day.

But on this day, these two heroes said, “enough.” They said, “we’ve had it.” They said, “we are fixing this for him.” They chose to fight. They fought through CPS red tape, made phone calls, cried, rearranged their schedules, their house and within 24 hours had moved heaven and earth to gain temporary custody of this boy. His life will be changed forever, the path he was on has been altered. This new path shines with hope so bright he will have to squint each day! This new path will take him places he’s never been, and will show him a depth of acceptance and love that he’s probably never felt. These two heroes and their own children are also on a new path. A path that I believe will be blessed by God, a path that will different, but good, a path that will harvest great rewards one day. 

Heroes are different things to different people, to me a REAL hero is the tired teachers down the hall, in the month of May, when students and staff are counting down the days until the glorious summer; that put their schedules, their exhaustion, their very lives on hold long enough to “act voluntarily for the service of young child in need without any expectation at all of reward to gain”! I am proud to know them, and even prouder to work with them.

I sincerely believe that working with kids is the best job ever, but like any job it is not perfect, and somedays are hard (really hard). The problems of society spill over into schools, and into the lives of the students and that’s just the reality of our world. Administrators, educators, para-professionals, bus drivers, cooks, custodians, secretaries, the list goes on and on…. NONE of us are great, in fact we all fall short every single day, but sometimes we rise to a place of greatness for someone else’s benefit and that’s what makes a true hero. I am grateful for the heroes I work with daily; they never stop trying and I think that’s the real secret to success. 

 

BENDING BOUNDARIES AND BREAKING RULES - Shelly Webb

Would you rather own an upright piano or a grand piano?

Would you rather visit a canyon, or the Grand Canyon?

What about a hotel, would you rather stay in a regular hotel, or in a Grand Hotel?

In all these examples, most people would choose the “grand” over the alternative. A grand piano is more majestic and noticeable than an upright piano. The Grand Canyon obviously, more splendid than other canyons, and most vacationers would opt for the Grand Hotel if affordable.

But what makes something “grand”—well it’s “more”, it’s “majestic”, “impressive”, “better”.

So now, think of GRAND parents, what should they look like? Should they just be upright, regular or should they be GRAND?

I am grateful that my daughter and son-in-law allow me to be GRAND in every sense of the word with their children. They’re okay if I bend boundaries or break rules. They hold their tongue and roll their eyes, but they always let me be grand. They don’t withhold their children from me because I gave them soda or an extra juice, or didn’t make them take a nap. When my grandkids are with me, they know they are safe and loved. They also know that I am not going to do everything the way it’s done at home, but they understand that’s the “grand” part of being a grandparent. I buy them too much, and I make them whatever they request for lunch. Sometimes they cry to stay and don’t want to go home, and who could blame them, it’s far too GRAND to leave.

Grand hotels offer luxuries and amenities that regular hotels don’t, such as full 24-hour room service, hot breakfasts, a wide menu full of all kinds of foods and desserts, large fitness centers, fancy gardens, helpful staff with smiles on their faces, extra towels, and even swimming pools.

Grandparents are similar to grand hotels. We know the secrets of good customer service. We are older, more patient and have learned that life goes by pretty fast so the second time around we are more about the memories and fun than the “rules”. Kids have parents to enforce the rules, serve the vegetables, and regulate bedtimes. Grandparents can enforce excessive fun and silliness, tell the jokes, and bend the rules. It’s a part of the being “grand” thing.

When I was a kid I LOVED staying at my grandparents’ house on the weekend. I would be so sad after church on Sundays because I knew my dad would be arriving soon to pick me up. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my dad and mom, it was just that my grandparents’ humble home was the first magical kingdom I ever knew. One special cupboard in my grandma’s house held the fudge striped cookies that I loved. I always knew there would be a pack in there just for my pleasure. I also knew we would walk to Paul’s Grocery Store, I’d hear a story on the way, and we would buy penny candy once we were there. My grandparent’s lived in town and had TV with lots of channels, and I loved watching Gilligan’s Island and Bewitched at their house. Being at my grandparent’s house was all about special amenities, treats, listening to stories, watching TV, playing games and being spoiled and loved on. My parents never once reprimanded my grandparents for overindulging or breaking a rule. It was expected and accepted, and I fully understood that once I got home, it was back to normal.

I feel like today, there is a lot of talk about “boundaries” and “rules”. I even hear the word “toxic” used to describe some grandparents that disagree or don’t uphold every rule laid down by their adult children. It makes me sad because kids have one chance at being a kid. They have a few quick ‘kid years’ to make those bonds and relationships with grandparents, bonds and relationships that can last a lifetime if allowed to bloom and grow. I realize in rare cases there may be situations that are not ideal for children to be around a grandparent, but honestly those cases are far and few between.

Imagine a Grand Hotel with no pool or room service, or a Grand Staircase that’s not allowed to be walked up, or going to the Grand Canyon only to be told you can look for one minute, that’s the rule. It would suck all the ‘grand’ right out of it!

Let grandparents be grand…it’s the best part of being a grandparent. Your parents raised you, they loved you, taught you to be a good worker, taught you character and made you tow the line. It’s their turn to relax and enjoy bending some rules. Who cares if they give your kid a donut for breakfast or two apple juices? These little things that might drive you nuts now, will not have lasting effects, just lasting memories. There’s a reason why my husband who is 66 remembers walking down to his grandma’s every morning at 5 AM to enjoy a Pop Tart and morning chat. It’s the same reason why he did anything she asked when he was an adult, and why it broke his heart the day she passed. She was permitted to be GRAND. Never rob anyone of their GRANDNESS and enjoy your own GRANDNESS when you become GRAND one day.

Pieces of Life- Shelly Webb

 

Life is not like a box of chocolates. At least mine, has never felt like that. My life is more like a box of Legos, a tattered box with crumpled edges, missing pieces and faded colors. These imaginary blocks and pieces are all in my mind, and all represent different things in my life; broken things I am trying to build back, careless spending I’ve lost track of, past mistakes I’m attempting to recapture and redo with a better outcome, and of course all kinds of time that I’ve squandered.

I meet God every night around 3AM when the world is most quiet, and I feel like I have more of his attention. Then I lug out this worn box of Legos and He and I, go through the little pieces one by one. “Look what I built today,” I say, knowing nothing can impress the creator of space, galaxies, mountains, oceans and all of nature. I think in my mind that He approves of my feeble attempt. But then I find myself saying things like, “I have no clue where the flat piece is that should hook onto here, I screwed that up pretty bad, it’s probably ruined forever”. “Oh, and what is this little piece for, it looks like a flagpole and here’s a window, what should I do with this”?

I have so many little pieces, and they are all faded and old. What can I still make with them? Somedays I just want a brand-new box with new features, new colors and brighter paint. But I am very attached to this old box that I keep dragging around day after day. I know I am supposed to make things, good things, impressive things, but sometimes it’s all I can do to make a few clicks and come up with a little set of steps, let alone a complete house. And the pieces are so good at reminding me that no matter how hard I work, or what masterpiece I create, they are still Legos….and they are going to end up back in this box in pieces. So why am I even bothering?

I want to believe that God has given me the exact pieces He wants me to work with right now, at this time. Could He be wrong though? Does He realize I don’t have that flat green base anymore? Does He know I’ve lost the little red door and most of the flat angled pieces that make a roof?  I don’t even have enough pieces to make the boat, or the little car, or a complete little, Lego person.

I feel defeated and overwhelmed. I know I started out with a much larger collection of pieces, I’m not sure what has become of them all along the way. I feel like God looks through the box with me some nights and scratches His head, thinking, “wow what a neat, little mess you’ve made”. It’s all my troubles, failures and ‘try hards’ in one haphazard box, ends crushed, pieces falling out, and missing links. I can read the disappointment in His face. I am afraid He’s thinking, “I started you out with the complete set, a strong, new box and even an instruction booklet, what happened”? And He is right of course, He and His ways are always right. He has never failed to give me exactly what I needed at the exact time I needed it, even if I thought it was the last thing I needed at that time. 

It's hard sometimes, but I know in my heart that no matter how pitiful my Lego box has become, and no matter how many pieces I’ve lost along the way, He still has a plan for me to make something, He still wants me to bring everything to Him and no matter what, He will always be willing to comb through each piece with me. Despite His disappointment, despite my continual failures, I know He will sit right by me, while I sift through grief, regret, sadness, and little pieces of hope scattered throughout the piles.

And each time, I will hear Him whisper, “you don’t need to make a masterpiece, just use these pieces to be the masterpiece I made you to be”.

When Change Turns Out to Be GOOD- Shelly Webb

          Anyone who truly knows me, knows that I do not like change. In fact, I despise it. “Shelly does not adapt well to change,” is actually written in an old letter my mom had years ago, from the school psychologist. My oldest daughter has been married five years, and I still call her Katilyn Webb, which always draws an eye roll from my son-in-law. I just prefer things stay the same.

         So when I learned last year that my third grade team would be getting a new teacher added to the mix, I must confess, I panicked. I was disgruntled and worried. I kept thinking of all the scenarios that could unfold. “We already have the perfect team,” I thought, “why are we changing things, this is ridiculous.”

Then to top it off I learned the new teacher was young, early 20s, and beautiful. Really? What is a team of fifty-year-olds going to do with a twenty-four-year old, super-model teacher teammate? Change was coming and I was none too pleased!

So…….it’s been 16 days with the super-model and….. we LOVE her! She is amazing. During our first official meeting she made it clear that she was going to be 100% IN. She offered to help everyone in any way she could. She was so accommodating about schedules, pullouts, spelling lists, cursive writing and a million other things. And since her mom has been a teacher forever, she understands and relates to every scenario, issue, or little problem that might arise in the exact best way.

She is hard-working, professional, smart, fun and genuine. She gets my sarcasm and my sense of humor; and has her own sarcasm and sense of humor, which makes it even better. Our team has always been about relationships and she has the “relationship” gene, for sure. She is always willing to go above and beyond, in any situation.

Also she is just plain fun and happy. She loves Batman, has seen every Western ever recorded (I think), has seen Dirty Dancing, Top Gun and knew who Danny and Sandy were from Grease! Her quick wit and joke playing pranks has made me actually say, “My gosh did I raise you”?

Long story short, there’s a team of 50 plus year olds at Warsaw Elementary that are loving their new 20 something super model teammate! Oh, and another perk…she dates a highway patrolman, which could come in handy with a future speeding ticket or two J

The Ringmaster in my head- the struggle is real-Shelly Webb

 

         I know this sounds crazy, but I have this circus ringmaster guy in my head. He’s real bright and shiny, he has the red tailcoat, black top hat, high boots and the little cane. He’s not like The Greatest Showman Hugh Jackman Ringmaster though, no songs about the brightest colors in my head or a million dreams. This guy is a real jerk.

He narrates different parts of my day, which could be defined as circus acts I suppose, with a big loud ringmaster voice. For instance, like when I’m getting ready in the mornings. I hear him screaming, “Ladies and Gentlemen let’s see if the amazing Shelly can squeeze into last year’s capris, this will be quite a feat if she can do it… can she, YES they’re buttoned, wow! Now can she find a shirt to cover that muffin top.” And the crowd goes crazy and I roll my eyes at him.

         There are also days he’s all up on me at work, “Ladies and Gentleman settle back in your seat and watch the amazing Shelly as she attempts to teach (student name) to write an essay using, WHAT, a hamburger graphic organizer! Has she lost her mind. The top bun is an introduction, the meat is the details, the bottom bun is a conclusion! This will never grow into an AIR test worthy writing. And it appears she has abandoned all semblance of spelling to boot. She is deceiving this child into believing he can write! And he’s buying it, oh the fraud!” And the crowd goes crazy. And I sigh heavily…and roll my eyes at him.

         He’s taunted my parenting skills for years, (but oddly enough thinks I am an amazing nana), “Oh my, ladies and gentleman, did this 15-year-old not lose her cell phone, AND was she not told that she could not go to the school dance? But what is this? Inconsistent Shelly is driving her to the dance and what is in her hand, my god, it’s the cell phone. When will this madness end? It’s a tight rope balancing act like I have never seen!”

And the crowd frowns and shakes their heads. And I show no emotion on that one.

         He scoffs at my purchases, “Ladies and Gentleman, Shelly owns a perfectly good table and chairs, but yet she is buying another one, is she insane, wasteful or just trying to tick off her husband? We really must watch this unfold.” And the crowd watches. And the husband rolls his eyes this time, but is not ticked off.

         Over and over, he announces my doubts, my decisions, my mistakes. He reminds me how many tootsie rolls I’ve eaten, he counts my carbs, he tells me I’m not tough enough on my kids, he tells me I am too tough on my kids, he tells me things won’t work, he blames me for other people’s decisions and choices, he notices every new line under my eyes, every new ounce on the scale, he’s amazing really, he misses nothing. He does compliment my nana skills often so we’re good on that front. He must have a great nana somewhere in his past.

         I can’t decide if he’s out to help me or destroy me. When I am going to sleep at night, I see him sweeping out the big tent, looking tired, I mean he has had quite the day, calling the plays in my life. He throws his shiny red coat and top hat on a chair and collapses on his bunk. He looks tired at night, no so chipper, not so shiny and not so loud.

I look at him and say, “Why”?

         He looks back and says, “to keep you grounded and real, and to try to set you some boundaries girl, without me you’d be out of control.”

         When did he arrive, I wonder, I think he started with a small ring maybe when I entered high school? He was definitely three ringing it by the time I became a mom, and lately I think he’s attempting a franchise.

         So I wonder…is he a jerk? Does he have any interest in me succeeding? Does he constantly point out my errors so I don’t cross some big line? Does anyone else have a ringmaster narrating their life?

         I joke about him to friends and imitate his big, booming voice, but figuring out if he’s a friend or foe is the real feat. I’ve often said, my life is a circus, so maybe I need a ringmaster. I have a feeling I could fire him too, anytime I wanted, but I might need him more than I think….and he does love me as a nana…

Taking a ‘Break’—for summer only

As another school year is coming to an end, it occurred to me the other day how teaching is similar to marriage… I know this sounds weird, but really think about it.

The first nine weeks of the school year is a total honeymoon period. I am getting to know the kids, what they like, what they don’t like, which genres they enjoy reading, what they know, what they don’t know and so forth. I learn who their friends and family are, just like I learned who my husband’s friends and family were when he and I first got together. They are on their best behavior, just like my husband was on his best behavior in the beginning. I know if they have allergies, when they are sick, what annoys them, what makes them shut down and how to encourage them. During this time, I am falling deeply in love with them and they with me. And all is right with the world.

Then comes the winter months. The second and third nine weeks are the ‘oh my gosh we’re married’ period. The period when I realize there is a lot of hard work to do if we are going to build a solid foundation that is going to be able to withstand the storms of the AIR test in the spring. During this time, we are deep into the work of the relationship. I am also learning what motivates or as my third grade team member likes to say, “what innocently manipulates them”, into giving it their all. I find myself serving them hot buttered toast on cold mornings, bringing donuts on Friday, replenishing the candy basket or prize box and offering tons of verbal praise and confirmation to each one. These are the same things I do to get my husband to finish projects at home, take out the trash, hang up a picture or buy a new couch. I must say, being married has given me a lot of experience in ‘manipulation’.

About halfway into the final nine weeks, things feel a little different. I find myself sensing the impending ‘separation’; suddenly, I’m ‘flirting’ with second graders in the hallway, knowing they are almost MY students now. I am also losing my patience more quickly than ever before when someone tattles for the nineteenth time or “accidentally” puts big X marks all over someone else’s paper. I can no longer referee the kickball game with googly eyes or emoji hearts dancing above my head, instead I find myself sounding like a sixty-year-old baseball umpire shouting at nine-year-olds, “You’re out, take a seat”! It’s the same tone as when I occasionally snap to my husband of 30 years, “No I didn’t cook dinner and the trash needs out”!

Although I am happily married and have little basis for this final analogy, I liken the final days of the school year to still living with your ex- but knowing the paper work is almost filed and you’re going to be ‘single’ again in a few days.

And all the mixed emotions that must go with that scenario are present. I am just as excited for summer break as the kids, but I will truly have to adjust to ‘being single’ again, even though it’s only for 12 weeks, then I start a whole new relationship cycle. Every year I tell myself, “Oh my, this is definitely my favorite class”, and every year, I sincerely mean it. I love that I get to start over fresh every year and experience all the phases of getting to know, falling in love and sending to fourth grade, eight and nine year olds. They are by far the best age group to teach, to play with, to ‘innocently manipulate’, to feed, to take care of and to build a great friendship with that I honestly believe will last a lifetime.

Just like a lovable ex-husband, I know as they grow up, they will remain in my life whether through social media, occasional phone calls, or personal visits. When you spend a year building and investing in a genuine relationship, that relationship survives the honeymoon, the marriage, the hard work, the disagreements, the arguments, the good days, the tough days and even INSIDE RECESS! And if a relationship can survive INSIDE RECESS all winter long, trust me, it can survive ANYTHING!

This has truly been a great year, with an amazing class and I LOVE every single one of them. I have four final days for the 2017-2018 school year to spend with an EPIC team and 38 phenomenal kids, and even though this day lasted 18 hours, it’s still the best job I could ever have imagined!

The End...That Never Ends

Shelly Webb

I have always hated endings, even happy endings to me are sad. When something ends, it’s over and I don’t like “over”. I like things to go on and on and never run out. Whether I am reading a book, watching a movie, or on vacation, I feel sad when things are winding down. I even mentally prepare myself to bid characters in books good-bye as I near the final chapter. I have actually committed the unpardonable sin of reading the ending of a book first, just so I can prepare for what’s going to happen. You see, as bad as I hate endings, I am worse at having to know HOW it’s going to end.

I have been thinking about endings a lot lately and wondering if “happy” endings could ever really exist. I mean what could possibly be “happy” about the end of something? I think these thoughts are rooted in the frequency I’ve been to calling hours or funerals lately. The older I get, it seems the more endings I find myself facing. And knowing that we all have an “ending” on this earth makes me feel really sad.

Life is amazing and everyday holds such promise and potential, even when things are going bad, I want another chance, a clean slate, a fresh start. I just always want more. And if I can’t always have more, then I at least want to know the ending so I can start adjusting.

Having faith in Christ and reading His Word allows me an insight into the future regardless of how my ending on earth will come about. I have always loved the verses in I Thessalonians 4:13-18, Paul not only speaks about endings, but he gives us an early edition into the future.

“¹³ But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope.¹⁴ For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep in Jesus. ¹⁵ For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep.¹⁶ For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. ¹⁷ Then we who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we shall always be with the Lord. ¹⁸ Therefore comfort one another with these words.”

I love that scripture refers to those Christians who have died as, “asleep”. Asleep is not an end. Asleep is a rest or a pause; people that have fallen asleep wake up. Sleep is not permanent. I remember after my mom’s funeral reading and re-reading these verses over and over, day after day, month after month.

Grief is one of the strongest emotions, if not THE strongest that an individual will ever feel. It is a bottomless pit of anguish and the feeling of hopelessness that engulfs a person grieving is personal and indescribable to anyone else. No two people grieve the same way, the same length of time, or can even understand another person’s grief despite how much grief they themselves have endured.

Endings bring me varying degrees of grief. The end of a good book, I feel a little down for a few minutes and then move on, the end of a good movie or TV series, I’m disappointed for a night or two and then whatever show it was I was watching leaves my mind. The end of an era (a graduation, a wedding, my kids growing up, getting older) can make me feel really sad for a few days at a time, every now and then. Believe it or not, even the last days of the school year, I find myself feeling that lost feeling, like it’s all ending and they’re moving on to another grade.

I hate change, I hate loss and I despise death, but I remind myself that God doesn’t want me to be “uninformed” about those who are “asleep”. I hope that one day when I “fall asleep”, someone will remind my own kids of these scripture verses and that even though they might feel like it’s the end, I want someone to help them work through their grief the best they can with God’s grace and comfort and focus on the reunion that will happen when I wake up, well rested and raring to go!

Ice-Cream Cake and Laughter....Celebrating Paw

Believe it or not, my grandpa would have turned 99 years old today, November 7! He died when he was 74, on a sad day in May 1993. Despite the fact that he left this world 25 years ago, he is still very much alive in my heart and daily conversations.

This fact became very evident to me last night. I was in the process of making dinner when my youngest daughter, who never had the privilege of meeting him, burst in the door with an ice-cream cake to celebrate his birthday. Ice-cream cake was his favorite cake. I looked at her puzzled as she announced, “I bought an ice-cream cake for Paw’s birthday”. I stuttered around and said, “Uh… his birthday is tomorrow”. “I know,” she replied, “but we’re all here tonight for dinner”!

I was surprised and felt so happy inside as she and my older daughter, and son-in-law cut into the cake and began recounting countless stories of a man they never knew. My aunt and I sat there laughing and giggling as this younger generation reminded us of the nick-names he had for us, the crazy shenanigans’ he pulled, and the fun memories about him that we’ve imparted to them.

And you know what? He would have LOVED it! They re-told events of his life, things he had done and didn’t leave out a detail. It was almost as if they had actually been there in person. I feel like there is no greater honor we could give to my grandpa, than to have his great-grandchildren that never knew him, to “know” him. Not only to “know” him, but to have one actually make a stop after work, to buy a birthday cake, to celebrate a man she never met, that has been dead for 25 years.

Today, one of my third-graders came bounding in and told me, “Mrs. Webb, today is my birthday”! I told him that he shares a birthday with a great man, my late grandpa. “How old would he be if he was alive,” he asked. “99,” I told him. And then I thought, “He is alive”. He’s alive in all those stories and memories. He is alive in the fact that my kids remind me about him, and talk about him like they knew him personally.

Eating the cake and sharing all those stories they have learned from my memories was a great feeling. I hope that I can live my life in a way that 25 years after I am long gone, a generation of kids, that I never got to meet are celebrating my life with the same laughter and joy. And I hope they are eating my favorite cake, Chocolate with Chocolate Icing!

"Dying on Hills" and "Choosing Battles"

“My aunt Shelly lets me do whatever I want,” my little niece, Abby recently shared with a friend. ---- My husband was surprised to hear her say this because obviously that's not the case, in fact, he thinks I’m pretty strict with her.

Abby may “think” she is getting to do whatever she wants because as I have gotten older, I have learned a few tricks. I spent a lot of time and energy when my kids were young micromanaging everything from their dresser drawers to their attitudes. More than once I would hear my mom’s voice in my head saying her famous quote, “don’t make a mountain out of a molehill”. However, I would ignore that voice and continue building that molehill right up into a mountain, and not just any mountain, it would be like a Mount Everest by the time I had finished.

Twenty-five-years later clichés like, “don’t die on that hill”, “choose your battles” and the infamous, “don’t make a mountain out of molehill”, are slowly becoming my mantra. When she wants to do something, I give Abby choices ---she makes her choice, and in her little, eight-year-old mind, she is getting to do whatever she wants.

She is super helpful and will do anything I ask her to do as far as a household chore or job. She knows that I usually repay these gestures later with ice-cream, a trip to the dollar store, or some other fun and (cheap) activity. And best of all, she knows if the fun reward doesn’t happen that very day, it will happen another day, and she is fairly patient with waiting because she knows it will definitely happen. My grown kids roll their eyes and say, “we didn’t get a reward” for helping out. True. They didn’t. But they got clothes, shoes, toys, games, food, doctor visits, dentist visits, Sunday school and many other privileges too numerous to name. Plus older kids always think the younger ones have it better for some reason.

My grown kids also get annoyed when I allow my niece to do silly things that aren’t necessary like…drinking out of a sippy cup or using the baby spoon to eat ice-cream. But in the big scheme of things…who really cares? It’s a fleeting moment of being silly and childish and she is EIGHT-years-old! “Picking a battle”, or “choosing a hill to die on”, has become a great talent of mine, and at 51, I am not going to die on the hill of which spoon she can use. I wish I had done this at 31, my life would have been much less stressful.

As a third-grade-teacher, I try to incorporate this attitude with my students and so far it has worked well. Guess what? Kids make mistakes. They make a lot of mistakes actually, they almost make as many mistakes as adults make J They also make poor choices and forget things. They respond quickly if they are being questioned and sometimes, they respond with an inappropriate tone or attitude. My goal is to hold them accountable, but to do so with a whole lot of grace and love. Some behaviors call for stern and swift consequences or lectures; but many times, we as adults continue to “beat a dead horse”, or decide to, “die on a very small hill”. Doing this not only ruins the day for the child, but it puts a big hole in the relationship you are trying to build.

Sometimes simply telling a child face-to-face, eyeball-to-eyeball, “don’t let this happen again”, is more effective than a big, public lecture in front of everyone. And sometimes a big, public lecture to the whole class is the ticket. As a human being, there are some days I fall short of what my goal is---sometimes I feel great driving home reflecting on the day, and other times, not so much.

I think the key is to always reflect, always try harder and to let the pendulum of grace always swing in favor of the kid. I believe that is how God’s grace works with us, it always swings in our favor, thank goodness! If God was in the habit of ‘beating dead horses’ and ‘making mountains out of molehills’, he would be busy 24/7 with ME alone!

Abby “thinks”, Aunt Shelly lets her do whatever she wants----In reality, Aunt Shelly guides her choices with grace and love; and the feeling of “freedom” that comes with that makes her feel like she’s doing whatever she wants. I am looking forward to having her in my third grade class this year----although this scenario could actually become the LITERAL hill that she or I dies on! Hopefully we both survive.

Boxed In--

“What did you do before you had that little pink box,”? It was a simple question posed by an elderly gentleman. He had just sat down next to my chair in the hair salon. He was there for a haircut, I was sitting ‘impatiently’, waiting for the color to process and hide my gray for another five or six weeks.

I shrugged my shoulders, smiled at him, and exited out of my current candy crush saga. I swiveled my chair around and faced him. He was nicely dressed, white haired and I could tell instantly that he was a ‘people person’. Within a short few minutes of talking with him, I learned that he resided in a little town south of the area I was from; he also had a ten-year-old grandson that loved technology and grown kids that visited “occasionally”. I could tell by the way he said the word, “occasionally”, that it was not enough for his liking. We talked as the stylist clipped away at his hair. By the end of the short conversation we discovered that we had two mutual friends (in real life, not Facebook) and that his wife worked for another acquaintance of mine. “Wow,” I said to him, “it really is a small world”. “Yep,” he added. “But you wouldn’t have known that if you had held on to that little pink box,” he laughed. His eyes were bright and friendly, but I knew he was making his point.

After he left, I sat there for a minute observing. Almost everyone else around me was engrossed in their own “little pink box”. I thought about how many times I had sat in waiting rooms at doctor or dentist visits, or stood in long lines at stores B.C.P (before cell phones). There was always small talk with strangers that sometimes turned into a meaningful conversation. I learned about the struggles and joys that unknown individuals were facing. Over the years I have conversed with people I didn’t really know, about the schools their kids attended, the illnesses their parents had endured, accidents that had happened, vacation spots they liked, car troubles they were having, diets that had failed, and of course weather, news and how things were different when they were young. And maybe my life wasn’t majorly impacted by these conversations, but my knowledge and awareness were definitely influenced.

I am certain that there are instances where we are ‘meant’ to encounter someone. I believe that God sends strangers into our paths at times to encourage us, make us think, get our attention; or at times for us to encourage them, make them think or get their attention. How many lonely or hurting people have I sat next to at the doctor’s office that needed a brief conversation to feel like life mattered, but I ignored them because I was playing a game on my phone? How many people had news they would have like to have shared or talked about, but I was too busy getting the latest news from Facebook? How many places have I been present physically, but mentally absent because I was trying to be present in a group text or Facebook message?

This nice, elderly gentleman that quite literally ‘forced’ me to put down my “little pink box” and have a conversation had me reflecting and thinking about a lot of life situations. I know I am on my phone too much. I know it has isolated me from strangers, and builds a wall of privacy that few people attempt to climb and invade. I hope that during this New Year I will be more aware of the people around me, especially the ones that want to interact and strike up a conversation. I am going to try to be more approachable in these situations. I believe the potential to learn something from the people we briefly encounter exists. We just have to know when to put down our phones and embrace that possibility; hopefully I can accomplish this more often than not in the coming year.

'At least I got one right'...

“Did you grade my paper yet,” the tiny voice asked from behind me. I turned around and cringed on the inside. “Yes…I did,” I said.       I had graded the paper and…’ tiny voice’ had missed them all but one. My heart had sunk earlier as I checked off the incorrect questions. If there is one thing I dislike about my job, it’s giving back an assessment with a poor grade. The look on an eight-year-old’s face when they glance over that paper and see the how many they missed or the grade at the top is so disheartening and sad. It is actually disheartening to the point I have thrown out entire assessments and went straight to the re-teaching, and then re-assessed without anyone realizing they ever failed the first time.      Unfortunately today was not one of those instances, most of my students did fairly well on this particular assessment, but… ‘tiny voice’ had struggled in a big way.

“Can I see mine,” she continued. “Umm you can…but listen to me first.” I took her aside and said, “This is not a big deal, honestly, we will work on it and you can re-do it so don’t even worry about it, okay?”

I didn’t want to see that sad look and the downcast eyes. I couldn’t stand to hear the sigh of disappointment so I spent time preparing her, building her up, telling her it would be okay.

She just smiled and said, “Okay, well where is it”? I reluctantly handed her the paper. She looked it over and saw that it had minus 17 out 18 missed questions. I held my breath and waited for the look. But…there was no look, ‘tiny voice’ smiled big, looked up at me and declared with a confident and happy tone, “Well at least I got one right”! She proudly took the paper, put it in her folder and went about her business like nothing had changed.

I wanted to scoop her up and give her the biggest hug ever, but I just stood there processing the genuine smile on her face, the sparkle in her beautiful blue eyes and her victorious tone.

I thought about her reaction on my way home and my thoughts have returned to her all evening long. I am so amazed that she chose to see this glass full and running over instead of empty. Her attitude exhibited one-hundred percent the “growth mindset” I have been teaching my kids since day one. I have drilled into them that ‘making mistakes is great because it’s how you truly learn’; I have told them that every time they fail it stretches their brain and helps them to grow. I say all the time, the grade is not important, what counts is if you learned a little more than you knew before.

I am so proud of ‘tiny voice’ because she “gets it”. She celebrated the ONE she got right instead of dwelling on the 17 she missed! If I could only be more like her, can you imagine what I might accomplish or what any of us might accomplish?

As an adult I focus consistently on what I mess up, and what I could have done better. Good is seldom ‘good enough’ and the stress this creates isn’t worth any level of success. I learned more from ‘tiny voice’ today than she will ever learn from me in this entire school year.

I need to celebrate every single victory regardless if it’s one student passing a test or 39 students passing; that’s what having a growth mindset, is all about. I need to practice what I preach to my kids. I need to be aware of all growth, not just big growth, because slow, consistent growth is strong and moving in the right direction. If I can alter my perspective just a little and adopt an ounce of the insight and outlook of ‘tiny voice’, I will be much more, happier, less stressed and much wiser. Kids are amazing and really are the best teachers. 

Lots of Opportunities

As the calendar changes from July to August, the warm air ushers in that feeling of a new beginning in my mind. The hot, sticky weather, the knowledge that summer is running out of time, and the amount of back-to-school Wal-Mart ads announce that another year of school is about to begin.

I feel that twinge of nervousness. I will have about forty new kids in my life in a few short weeks, forty new faces and names to learn, forty new personalities to adapt to, and forty new opportunities. Yes! Opportunities. The google definition of “opportunity” is stated as, “a set of circumstances that makes it possible to do something”. WOW! I will have 40 sets of circumstances that will make it possible to do something! Forty different packages of various talents and skills; some will be amazing at math, others will be strong readers, some will love to write stories or learn about the past. And some... will not be excited about reading, some won’t care about Social Studies or how communities work and change over time. Some will not like grammar, spelling or writing at all…but regardless, ALL; every single one of these, “sets of circumstances” will make it possible to do something.

My job will be to learn everything I can about each student in orders to tap into what makes them tick. I will teach them to love reading when I read aloud books like Charlotte’s Web and The Twits, and come up with crazy voices for the characters, with weird accents. They will learn to love writing when I learn what they enjoy doing, and then help them develop a narrative about that topic. Grammar will become a fun activity with the use of task cards and group challenges and games.

They will also learn how very important it is to “make mistakes”, so they can become better. In fact, they will learn that their teacher just might be the “queen of mistakes” J They will see that hard work and trying again and again is how you truly learn and make the most of the opportunities you are given.

Every child is an opportunity---a little set of circumstances that make it possible to do something. We will do so much! I hope they each leave my room in May knowing that they all have “opportunities” and “possibilities” in their lives and future. I hope above all they learn how to persevere and work hard, to never give up and to definitely make mistakes because if they can learn that…then any opportunity they have, big or small will far surpass their expectations in the same way I am sure each of them will far surpass mine!

Son OR Son-in-Law----it's all the same to me

     Having been blessed with two amazing daughters has been the most significant part of my life. Everything else I have accomplished in my life is really just icing on the cake, my girls were and continue to be “the cake”.  

     And as if cake and icing weren’t enough, recently a new addition to our family has added a much needed scoop of ice-cream! For a little over a year now I have had the privilege of having a SON-in-law, which is actually the next best thing to a having son; maybe even better. After all I didn’t have to raise him or pay the high car insurance that boys normally have to pay. I didn’t have to pay for his soccer shoes, his sports camps, play to pays or the big grocery bill that comes with having boys (which moms of boys have always told me all about). I have the reward without the work, which rarely works out in life.

     When I first met Coty…I just wasn’t sure. It’s always hard when your kids start relationships. I didn’t really know Coty, he wasn’t a ‘River View Black Bear’; in fact he had graduated from that “other” school, and was Red and Black all the way! He was nice enough…but just someone new and different. The more I got to know him though, the more I genuinely liked him and eventually loved him.

     Today I feel very blessed to have Coty as my SON-in-law. He has honestly become as much ‘my kid’ as my own daughters. We think alike, we make the same sarcastic comments (all in good fun) and we both love trivia and playing games. He is helpful and willing to put himself second to make things work out for someone else. But more than this, I know that Coty loves my daughter and little grandson as much as I do. He gives them his most precious commodity, his time. He helps clean, cook, sweep, shop, and also works his full-time job. He plays with my grandson, chases him, wrestles him and loves him. Without Coty, we wouldn’t even have Grayson, and I can’t imagine a life without this little guy. In a way, Coty has given my husband and I, a brand new role in life and whole new adventure in helping to make us grandparents.

     Even though I didn’t raise him, I have a bond with this amazing young man. He is thoughtful and funny and is more apt to help me out some days than either one of my daughters, a fact that makes me smile and frown at the same time! I know I can count on Coty.       This is a comforting thought because I know that someday I will probably have to count on him more than I will want too. Still I like knowing that when and if that day comes, he will be there; and he will be there with grace and kindness because that is who he is and what kind of man he will always be.

What I hope my kids learned in third grade…

Shelly Webb

May 1st. ushers in a sense of completion in my mind. The sound of lawnmowers, the smell of fresh-cut grass and the amount of spring cleaning remind me that another year of school is waning to an end.

I start thinking of “my kids” and how they will all be moving on and I wonder what exactly they will take with them to fourth grade, what have they learned this year. I refer to them as “my kids”, because they truly have become “mine”. When you spend five days a week with a child for nine months, you can’t help but become sucked into their life.

 I know all about them, I know their personalities, their strengths, and their weaknesses. I know how sensitive or tough they are and how they are going to react to whatever situation. I can predict their thought pattern, I know what motivates them and I know what shuts them down. I know who needs pushed and I know who needs built-up, before they can be pushed.

Academically they have ALL grown, some have shown remarkable growth and some average growth, but overall they have all grown and learned lots of things.

For instance, they have increased their vocabulary significantly, they know many Greek and Latin Roots, they can compare and contrast two texts, they know about fables, folktales and myths, they can write an opinion, they can identify nouns, verbs, adjective, adverbs and pronouns, they have increased their reading level and they are well-versed in various genres and authors of their time.

And all that is great…but it’s really not the most important things they have learned. What my kids have learned that matters most of all is that they now have one more adult in their life that genuinely cares about them. They have learned that I believe in them, and that I understand some of the tough circumstances in their young lives. They have learned that I am available to listen, talk or help them out.

They have all learned that MISTAKES are NECESSARY in school and more importantly in life, and that every mistake is a chance to learn and that no one truly ‘learns’ without making mistakes. They have learned that they do not have to be perfect and that their teacher is VERY FAR from perfect.

They have learned that they are free to mess up, to become frustrated, to lose a book, to forget a book, to fail a test, and to re-take a test. They are free to make choices, to share with each other, to have a disagreement, to say ‘I’m sorry’ and to grow. They have also learned the one thing they can NEVER do… and that is to, “give up on learning”. Even when the text looks too hard or the book looks too long, they know they have to dig deep and persevere. They have learned that “hard work” far, far outweighs being smart and that they all have the ability to be hard-workers.

I have taught them how important a good work ethic is when it comes to getting a job. They know that this one valuable character trait can take them much further than the number attributed to their IQ score.

We have also delved into various college websites to learn that college really can be for everybody. Degrees in programs like ‘Wildlife Conservation’, ‘Mechanical Engineering’, ‘Art’ and ‘Sports and Fitness Management’ grabbed the curiosity of a few that had little interest in college until then. The smile on their faces and new enthusiasm for their future was priceless.

 I believe my kids have learned the content standards, which is vitally important for their success in future grades. But to be honest…my mission is so much bigger than that.

When that last day of third grade comes and goes, I hope it comes and goes with life long memories full of magic and grace. I hope that years from now a random thought back to third grade brings a smile to their faces. I hope they remember the prize box, the music we played, the debates and skits we did, the suckers, the tootsie rolls, and I hope they think of me and realize that Mrs. Webb really, truly cared about them and their future…because I do!

          

More than a doctor…

A Pediatrician is technically a doctor that treats children. He or she is there for the first check-up and immunizations; and then sticks around for the next 18 years overseeing the health of the child.

My Pediatrician, Dr. Tiberio, stuck around a tad longer and was there to welcome our first grandchild into the world, however at our last well-baby appointment he broke the news that he is planning to retire in May. The room was suddenly deflated and the mood in my heart turned gloomy. I kept telling myself, “Don’t cry…everyone retires…you’re being ridiculous, don’t cry”…but as usual, ‘myself’, didn’t listen and soon the tears were flowing.

For the past twenty-five years this gentle, caring man has been there, like a quiet member of my family, one that stays back in the shadows and causes no drama. Over the years he has treated so much more than ear-aches and viruses. He has treated my worries, my over-reacting and my fears; all with a calm and reassuring voice.

Statements such as, “No, Kennedy will NOT nurse forever,”, “Yes Katilyn WILL be potty-trained” and, “The vaccines are safe, please don’t worry”, only scratch the surface of the candor and wisdom he provided me.

Number one, he “remembers” my mom, and if you are someone that has lost your mom, then you know how important it is when someone “remembers” her. My mom accompanied me to every pediatric visit until she died, when Katilyn was twenty-months old. After that I went alone to the check-ups and sick visits, but Dr. T always commented about “how proud” my mom would be of Katilyn, and that he knew how badly I missed her and how hard it was for me. I seldom left with dry eyes those days, but eventually things got better.

Then when my dad was diagnosed with cancer and died within just a few months I remember telling Dr. Tiberio that I really should have insisted on chemotherapy WITH the radiation, instead we opted to do radiation first and then add chemo later, and my dad never made it to one chemo treatment. I felt like it was the wrong choice and that I should have been more on my game so to speak. He listened quietly and then said the magic words that lifted that burden from my heart. “My dad was in a similar situation,” he shared. “I insisted on chemo and radiation at the same time, and you know what Shell, he didn’t live any longer than your dad”. Those words made everything better, as strange as that may sound; I had just been granted permission NOT to replay the ‘what ifs’ over and over in my mind.

My Pediatrician was caring, patient and spent TONS of time with my kids during their appointments, he didn’t only treat them, he treated me. He treated me with kindness and guidance; he treated me with respect and compassion. He was a doctor, but he was also a husband, a dad of four kids and in recent years a grandfather. He allowed all those experiences to become an intricate part of how he doctored and cared for his patients.

I feel privileged and blessed to have gotten to know him over the years. I feel especially grateful that he was able to take care of my girls and usher them into adulthood and that first appointment with their “grown-up doctor”. I love the fact that he was there to greet my little grandson and take care of him for the first 18 months of his life.

I hope he realizes that his life’s work is so much more than the medical aspect; he has been an emotional support, a friend, a counselor and wonderful advice giver. No one is perfect, not even doctors, but this one was pretty close. My wish is for his retirement to be full of promise, good health, family and prosperity, he deserves it!

End of the Day Reflection—

Shelly Webb

As the last voices fade from the hallway and the sound of a lagging school bus passes beneath my window, I automatically start to reflect.

The realization of how tired I am kicks in; I didn’t sleep well last night and I wonder if I really gave it my all today. I wonder if I will sleep tonight, I wonder if it’s my age or just my mind not shutting off that keeps me tossing and turning. As I recount the events of the day I remind myself how well most of my students did on the ‘Idiom’ quiz, I feel like they finally understand what “feeling under the weather” and “giving someone the cold shoulder” actually means… although I’m not sure exactly how essential this information will prove to be in their futures. They also did a great job using task cards to ‘make conclusions’, but again…not sure if this will help them land a job one day, unless they are intuitive enough to conclude exactly what to say in the interview and when to stop talking altogether.

Then I reflect about the day’s events that didn’t have anything to do with ‘content’ or ‘learning targets’. I helped one girl make a bracelet out of construction paper and staples during inside recess, she loved it. I received an awesome handmade card from another at the end of the day. I listened about a new puppy someone received for Christmas and PATIENTLY listened to another student’s very detailed story about what ALL she received for Christmas. I pulled a tooth, refereed a dispute between three very DRAMATIC nine-year-old girls, and convinced two students that received Cs on the ‘Idiom’ quiz that they absolutely did an amazing job, which they did! They both loved the sticker on their paper and proudly showed them like medals of honor. I had lunch duty too, so I ate with my kids today and ended up splitting my Pizzaburger with one. He was excited… I was full.

I wonder if making connections with kids is just as important as making them grow. I think the two are actually intertwined. I want my students to learn to their full potential, but I want them to feel a connection with me that is rooted in the knowledge that all things aside, they, personally matter most. They matter more than a STAR score, more than a test score, more than a grade card or a reading level. I want them to know that I genuinely care about the daily events that matter to them, and trust me, in third grade there are MANY daily events that matter!

Not that this diminishes learning; I know how important the content is and how critical learning to read, analyze and think about a situation are to growing and achieving in the third grade. We compare and contrast everything under the sun; we use context clues daily to figure out what new words mean, we can identify the way a text is organized, the character traits and setting of stories, we write our opinions and expository texts, and we work on a hundred other things.

But in the big scheme of life……I teach, AND…I listen to stories about puppies, I hug crying, drama filled third graders, I high-five kids for achieving Cs and make sure they know a hard C means so much more than an easy A, I laugh at their knock-knock jokes even when they’re not funny and I referee…oh, and I pull teeth (often). And I’m betting years from now, they may not remember all the content I have taught, but they will remember the hugs, the high fives and all the little day-to-day things that have nothing to do with learning, but everything to do with life, at least I hope they will. J

Learning to be a SuperHERO

Shelly Webb

         

          Being a mother of two girls I developed a deep knowledge of the many woes and triumphs of the Disney Princesses. I was greeted daily by posters of ‘Sleeping Beauty’, ‘Belle’, ‘Princess Jasmine’, ‘Cinderella’ and ‘Snow White’. We owned every VHS in which these fine ladies were featured and read lots of stories about their exciting love lives. I also gained a keen understanding about ‘Barbie’, ‘Skipper’, ‘Ken’, all the American Girl dolls and Polly Pocket. The greatest lesson that I learned through this was that I should have purchased stock in Disney and the other companies pushing these products because then today I could look at all those purchases as an ‘investment’ and rest easy. Instead I find myself trying to justify those purchases by interesting my one-year-old grandson in Barbie’s little skateboard or Jasmine’s flying carpet, which I can tell, annoys my son-in-law.

          I was blessed with my girls and they are beautiful and amazing. I am glad I have a grandSON today because I realize I missed out on a lot of boy stuff when my girls were growing up. For example, I don’t know a thing about the ‘Power Rangers’, the teenage mutant turtles, or the “X-Men”…are they good or evil by the way? And if not for my awesome friend, Sandy (who had two boys) I would have missed out on the most important and life changing men besides my husband…BATMAN and SPIDERMAN!

          My girls were not into superheroes when they were young, and as a result I turned down many movie invites. Thank goodness the ‘Dark Knight’ had three parts and I finally relented and agreed to accompany my friend to part-three. I was reluctant and went into it thinking, “ugh I hope this isn’t a long movie”! BUT… I not only loved it, I saw it two more times in the next couple weeks and bought the first two movies of the series. I also bought the Spiderman Movies, saw Superman and Iron Man. This completely changed me into a SuperHERO freak, not quite on the same level as Sheldon Cooper…but close.

          Now imagine my excitement when our principal announced that the theme for Warsaw Elementary this year will be: “Be Someone’s SuperHERO” H=Helpful, E=Energetic, R=Respectful, O=Optimistic! How awesome is this?

          A SuperHERO spends a lot of time ‘rescuing people’ and who needs rescued more than kids? Some may need, rescued from boredom, some from a bad day, some, from a forgotten lunch sitting back on the kitchen counter, some from lost homework or a failed test. Some may even need rescued from ‘themselves’, or a bad attitude or arrogance or bullying or being a bully. The point is we all need rescued from time to time and I will be in a perfect position to rescue and make a difference.

          A SuperHERO is someone you admire and trust, I hope my students will admire and trust me. Creating a positive relationship with them honestly means more to me than the curriculum, whether that’s wrong or right, I’m not sure, but relationship has to be the number one goal in my opinion. Without relationship, respect and trust, why would they even care to listen to anything I have to say?

          When you believe and know that someone genuinely cares about you, you will listen to them; when someone takes a risk for you, you will respect them; when you really matter to someone, they become your SuperHERO.

          I am excited because even though I don’t have this ‘common core’ things completely down and I am still learning about assessments, technology, differentiation and a ton of other education terms---I’ve got the SuperHERO background completely covered!

And just like Batman I’m sure I will encounter a ‘joker’ or two, like Superman I’m sure I will meet my Lex Luther…..but I have one thing Batman, Superman and all the others lacked… I have ‘a no recess card’, so I’m sure I’ll be just fine until I win any little villains over with my super charm!

Reflecting on my soon to be--graduate 

With the shadow graduation looming on the horizon, I simultaneously feel mixed emotions of pride, joy and sadness. First, I have been very blessed to have two unbelievably awesome daughters. Tonight, however I am reflecting on how quickly time has passed between the day I dropped Kennedy off at preschool and now.

I remember picking her up at preschool the first day and how excited she was to show me the little playground. She wore a Scooby Doo denim dress and pony-tails. I also remember the day she came home from preschool and proudly explained that she had gone to the bathroom, and had NOT yelled for Mrs. Coffman to “come and wipe”. The confidence she had after that accomplishment was amazing!

When she was in First Grade my oldest daughter, Katilyn cut ALL her bangs off. It was right before Christmas pictures and I was livid, but Kennedy’s attitude was priceless, “I have to go to school until they grow back Mom, now stop crying”, she ordered as I sat on the bathroom floor threatening to cut Katilyn’s hair too. I think facing the world with NO bangs, not a one, gave her even more confidence than the whole wiping thing in preschool.

In Second grade for career day, she wanted to be President of the United States. “There’s no costume for that,” I told her. “All I need is a badge,” she explained. So she dressed in a little plaid coat dress, all buttoned up and wore a “Vote Kennedy Webb for President 2032” badge, (which I still have). We ordered them online and she passed one out to everyone in the class and again, her confidence grew a little more.

In addition to confidence she began to develop a lot of compassion. She always stuck up for the underdog, she tried to right every wrong and felt a sense of responsibility to make things better. She was on a mission to be the ‘fixer’ of all problems and troubles. This was great when she was successful, but tough when she wasn’t.  

“I don’t want to be 11”, she told me on her eleventh birthday. I remember telling her that she was silly and had to grow up, but that she would always be my baby. Inside though… I was thinking the same thing… “I didn’t want her to be 11 either”. I missed the rustling sound the diaper would make when she would run away from me with something in her hand that she shouldn’t have. I missed how she only wore one sock, and hid in the cupboards and watched the “Wizard of Oz” non-stop.

Through Junior High and High School I watched helplessly as the last shred of my “little girl” disappeared into a beautiful, strong, somewhat opinionated young woman. It’s amazing to me how she can light up a room by just walking in; or how her very odd sense of humor can send people into hysterics. “She’s a weird one,” her dad whispers to me, “wonder where she gets it from” he winks. I could only hope she gets some of her characteristics from me.

But regardless, I am so proud of the person she has become and the passion she possesses. I know I have been given a great privilege to ‘watch’ this very special person change and grow into someone I want to be more like. It’s strange, when you become a mom, you always think in terms of “teaching and molding” this new little person so they can make it in life. But I feel like I am the one that has been “taught and molded” by her. I pray I am blessed with good health so I can continue to watch the wonderful, unfolding of her story. I’m sure it will be a classic/ comedy/ drama/ academy award winning saga.

‘will the test count against us’?

 Shelly Webb

          “Will the test count against us,” a third-grader asked me when we were reviewing for the upcoming PARCC Math Assessment? She thought this was a simple question and wanted a simple answer. I told her that it wouldn’t really count “against” her, but it would just show a picture of what all she had learned. But wow, was that a loaded question!

          After I answered her question then my own mind started racing…”will the test count against ME, the teacher”, “will I be viewed as a failure if 80% of my students don’t pass it”? I continued mentally processing, “I have 25 kids so five can fail, which five will that be”? I actually looked around the room and quickly counted…I saw potentially seven students that may have a tough time passing this test. Then I thought, “what if seven don’t pass, what percentage is that of 25”!

          I could have continued in that thought pattern all day long, but I forced myself to STOP.

It is a stressful concept to grasp when you realize that twenty-five, eight or nine-year-old kids that you have taught for a year will be taking an OAA, PARCC, STAR and SLO to measure their growth and achievement. Whether I like it or not, test scores do reflect back on me. But despite this, I am trying to focus on the fact that what I do every day is what defines me as a teacher more so than a test score.

          In my opinion, the biggest measure I am defined by is how my students perceive me and the relationship I have with them. I want my students to ‘know’ that I care and think about them more than the six hours a day I have them in class. I want to be defined by the fact that I know my kids on a personal level, I know their strengths, their weaknesses and their personality. I know how to get them motivated and what shuts them down. I know their learning style; I know who gets it better ‘visually’ and who gets it better ‘by listening’. I know which kids prefer ‘hands on’ learning and which ones don’t. I can tell by the look on their faces, if there’s a problem or concern. It’s amazing how well you get to know someone that you work together with every day and that is exactly what we do…work together.

          I realize that my student’s attitude towards learning will define me much more than the score they receive on a test. I want to see myself through their eyes. I love it at the end of the day, when the one child that I’ve had to speak to three or four times or dock some recess time from, hugs me bye and still says, “You’re the best teacher”. Now I’m not sure if he really means it or if he is just trying to make amends for a rough day, but I love it because even though I’ve scolded him, he still ‘knows’ I genuinely care about him and I am up for a hug.

          I want to be defined by the expectations I set, the tears I prevent and the ones I wipe away. I want to be defined by the math concepts they finally understand, the number of books they read, the narratives they write and the critical thinking skills they develop. I want to be defined by their laughter when I make a lame joke (and most of my jokes are pretty lame). I want to be defined for how I make my kids feel about learning and themselves.

          I full well understand that test scores are vitally important and those scores will be a reflection on how well I have presented and taught the standards. But I do realize it is just one piece of the overall picture. There are so many other issues and goals during the course of a year, and the individual child that I see and interact with every day is my top priority. I want to always see the ‘child’ and not a potential test score. Every student deserves that and every teacher deserves it as well.   

Biggest Thief of Life, 'TIME'

 by Shelly Webb

The greatest thief to ever burglarize the human race does so without raising a single weapon or breaking into a single building, home, garage or store. He is a quiet thief, subtle, cunning and undetected. We base much of our life on him and allow his constraints to prioritize most of our days. His name is ‘time’ and he alone has perpetrated more crimes against humanity than most of us realize.

The problem with ‘time’ is you don’t understand his power until it’s too late. You might notice him occasionally lurking at your bathroom mirror. You’re brushing your teeth or applying mascara when you suddenly catch the glimpse of a small line beginning to form at the corner of your eye.

But, you’re busy. You glance at the line, wonder what it is and how it got there and then rush out on your way.

You pick up your three-year-old at preschool and celebrate the fact that she can finally write her own name, all the while the thief, ‘time’, smirks in the backseat. Only he realizes the significance of this accomplishment. Only he sees how quickly Kindergarten will come, junior high and graduation. You’re just happy she can write her name…finally because…it’s about time.

Summer days seem shorter, months begin to fly by and you start understanding that ‘time’ is moving at a much faster pace than he once did. Then, one day you reach for the phone book and find yourself squinting. You ask your high schooler, yes the one that used to be a preschooler a short time ago, “why are they making the font in the phone books so small now”? And in response to your question, ‘time’ laughs out loud and adds another line to your face. So you buy reading glasses and wrinkle cream and hope for the best, but the thief continues to rob and steal. You find yourself getting your hair colored every five weeks now instead of six and choosing comfortable shoes over fashionable ones. And ‘time’ is humored by your state of denial and vain efforts to slow him down.

Birthdays slip by, anniversaries come and grandparents die, pictures are taken, videos created and 28 New Year’s Eve parties later…you’re a grandma!

And at this point, you start to develop a little more fear and respect for ‘time’ and his little game. You know now that all the events in life, the joyous and the sad are presented in part, by this great thief. He is the uninvited, unseen guest at every dinner and every vacation. He introduces us to new vocabulary like cholesterol, annuity, retirement and ‘son-in-law’.

Ironically, we spend most of life trying to manage ‘time’ only to actual be managed by him. Time to work, time to rest, time to spend with friends, time for kids, time for fun, time to plan, time to learn time management and eventually just coveting time for bed. It’s hard to believe that such a tiny word, ‘time’, can possess so much power and influence over life.

‘Time’ is a thief, there is little doubt about that…but for every antagonist there is a protagonist and this story is no different. Another tiny word…called ‘memories’ is able to diminish ‘time’ and weaken his cold grip.

‘Memories’ are the ultimate weapon against ‘time’, because they are actually created by ‘time’; something ‘time’ probably hates in the same way Voldemort hated that he transposed some his power to Harry when he tried to kill him.

‘Memories’ are powerful and can be replayed over and over in your heart and head where ‘time’ cannot touch. ‘Memories’ can capture ‘time’ and hold him in perspective. ‘Memories’ can transcend the damage ‘time’ can do into a glorious time of reminiscing. ‘Time’ may be a thief, but ‘Memories’ bring back everything ‘time’ steals and does so with laughter and joy.

I believe that the memories we make with the time we are given are priceless treasures that cannot be stolen forever. They are always there, embedded deep within our hearts, whether or not we can express them or recall them, they are there bridging the gaps that ‘time’ creates. Spend your time wisely in 2015 and make great memories whether you have the time or not.