Redistributing the Tears

Today, I finally accepted new kids into a room the way I always wanted: with applause. Never in the history of room 160, or my other rooms for that matter, did a new student arrive with any fanfare whatsoever. Normally, I am scrounging for books, ripping out papers of a notebook to be used again, sharpy-cross-out name of a student's agenda book for it's new owner, name tags that are promised but eventually forgotten. They are rushed into their new area, set up with a partner and eventually become part of the scenery.

New kids come and go. I've lost and regained students, at about a rate of 10 kids per year. Kids move in with their dad, move in with their mom, lose jobs, relocate, get sick of the school, try something new. Some I try to coax with bus passes not to leave, and others' attendance is so blatantly poor, I've prayed they move just so their child attends school SOMEWHERE. Sometimes, kids get transferred within buildings, they leave because they qualify for services we do not have, or because of too high of enrollments in other grades, get split up between teachers. This happened to my school this last week.

I "adopted" 5 more students, which considering what some of my partners went through, was anything but a blessing. We're more crowded and we suddenly grew louder, but I get to teach the same material Monday. I wont have two grade-levels to maneuver through, plus getting to know kids again like it's day one.

According to the faces of the children in the building, redistributing kids to other rooms was quite traumatic. For those teachers that had to move buildings, or chose to teach split classes, you feel a sense of relation and disconnect at the same time. I wouldn't know what it would be like to teach second graders, and I've not taught third grade in so long, I would imagine I'd feel defeated teaching little ones before the day would even start. I'm used to independent readers, workers, kids who get inside jokes and have little mood swings. You feel compassion for all they work they must have this year, and you feel almost a sigh of relief that the buck passed you and went to the next person. You stand in front of class and tell your students, no one is leaving, and the kids you think hate you, the kids you think you haven't figured out, they are the first ones to clap and fist pump when they realize they are not leaving. It bothers them to know you don't like them, or perceive that you don't enjoy their company.

Kids were in tears today, which is something you don't see much from kids other than sick ones, hurt ones or stubborn ones. Real general tears is something you want to avoid at all costs. And kids today just don't cry easily. Oh, there's some great fakers, and some real actors and actresses, but to drop genuine tears among the waxed floors in a building will not only draw them out of you, but you start looking for someone to blame, someone to point to and say, "it's your fault!" Numbers and figures. Hearts and minds. Learning and relating. I'm not sure how much learning happened today, except for me.

So we clapped those kids in the room. We played games. We got loud and we laughed. So what. It beats tears anytime of the day.