Carolina Matthews

Language and Feeling

On Monday I once again introduced new words to help students communicate their feelings. This time, I am working with Intermediate ESOL Kindergarteners. More than my 2nd grade English Only students, these children’s language limitation is influenced by two aspects of their lives: English is their second language, and they have only been in the world for 5-7 years.

When I asked them about feelings, three adjectives came to the table: happy, sad and mad. Even after I introduced ‘angry’, they still called it mad.

Naming and Feeling

However, more than the language teacher, the idea that children – or adults, for that matter – resort to three single words when referring to their feelings bothers the Psychoanalyst in me. It makes me think of the enormous range of feelings that are being boxed into three categories and not being fully experienced. And it makes me think of an anecdote my mother tells me from when I was very young: I think it was my first day of school, and I told my mom I did not want to go. When asked why, I answered: “I have a stomachache”. “Duchinha, she said, what you are feeling is not stomachache. It is anxiety.” I was probably about 3 years old when ‘anxiety’ was introduced to me as a name for the stomachache I felt when something new and somewhat scary was about to take place.

For most students I work with, that stomachache remains a stomachache, and the child often stays home, not dealing with the anxiety and missing important learning experiences – both from school and from the possibilities that naming our feelings open in our lives.

Not Seeing, Not Feeling?

During my Masters of Arts in Teaching at George Fox University,  one of my instructors shared her experience with students from a population similar to the one I work with. Rather than shallow feeling recognition, however, her kindergarteners had a rather limited perception of their possibilities for entertainment. According to her, the question “What did you do this weekend” always yielded with the same “I went to the park.” No depth, no novelty, no emotional engagement or learning.

She began a study in her classroom using Cynthia Rylant’s “Night in the Country” to explore all the wealth of life that exists in the field around a home in the country, and the sounds that can be heard, which represent such life.

Learning and Feeling

After bringing children’s attention to how the author uses her senses, she urged her students to do the same. The result was a brilliant, sensitive compilation of experiences from her kindergarteners. I am positive that those children found a new perspective for their weekends on the park.

Hopefully, by the end of this week my students will understand a little better the differences among anxious, worried, angry and frustrated.

Guidance

Not sure I have written about the amazing guidance I got from my Reading Specialist team last school year.

Yesterday I had a brief breakdown, shaken off by my not-so-tactful-but-well-intentioned-sometimes-effective husband. The momentary panic happened because I felt thrown in a situation in which I am expected to do something I do not feel completely competent at. No scaffolding, no gradual release of responsibility, no questions asked. Just the expectation to be adult, professional, and capable – and, after I pleaded, a promise of support when needed.

Reliving

Then today I saw the Reading Ladies back in last year’s school – where I still work half the day. And I remembered when I started teaching reading as part of their team last November. In a flash I relived the anxiety generated by doing something of high responsibility for the very first time. And I felt again grateful for how observant they were of my delicate moment, leaving some breathing windows throughout the day between groups, discussing each group and child with me, supporting my practice, allowing time to observe them at work, patiently answering not-so-smart questions I asked all day long. They were true mentors, and I learned the equivalent of several years of graduate school in those seven months.

Gradual Release of Responsibility

My year was not all breezy. As soon as I mastered the demands I had on my plate, they served me a chunkier scoop, adding challenges in the form of number of groups, types of students, and schedule changes. By the end of the year I felt more of a peer, sharing with them most of the burdens and joys, and having my experience validated and respected.

New Year, New Demands

I am thrilled to be challenged once again. And looking back to this experience I realize I can succeed. I can succeed because I have a solid education, because I have a strong will and character, because I am in a district that supports professional growth, and because I am surrounded by competent teachers, coaches, support staff, and principals. All I need to do is say “Yes” and ask for help when needed – and stop wining already.

This week I started a new phase, one in which I am a permanent employee of a school district, holding a full time position from the district perspective, but working part time from the school standpoint: my time is being divided between two schools.

I am excited with the opportunity to take part in two different cultures within the district. One is the largest elementary school of the district, bringing a huge diversity. The other is the smallest, bringing an atmosphere that is almost family-like. One is trilingual and counts on incredibly competent staff, but struggles somewhat to master the communication piece. The other is bilingual and seems to have effective teams in place, and probably has particular struggles I have not yet observed. One I know from last year, having worked there full time for 7 months. The other is very new to me – fascinating and terrifying, exciting and challenging.

Today I zigzagged between them, got overwhelmed, kicked and screamed when told I’d be teaching in Spanish, tried to put together a plan, failed to focus, realized I missed a doctor’s appointment, left school in a hurry leaving behind the bowl I brought my salad in for the potluck…

When I got home, I tried to vent with my husband, but he only had good things to say about the challenges I am facing. Then he went on to tell me all the reasons why this was a great opportunity, and how much I will grow from this experience, and how bored I would be if I were asked to do only things I already master.

And he is SO right! But I am still tearful, and I am still anxious, and scared. Looking forward to begin the journey, fully aware of the great opportunity I have been given, but still edgy about it.

Reading

Reading is to me one of the greatest pleasures. It takes me to interesting places, it allows me to entertain conversations with people I do not necessarily know in person, it lets me live in the skin of fantastic characters, it feeds my thoughts helping me develop my own concepts, ideas, and theories. It is no coincidence that I became a Reading Teacher, since the main reason that drove me to teach was to take part in the development and enrichment of young people’s lives and minds, providing them with the knowledge they yearn for.

Necessary Evil?

To my dismay, however, I have been constantly encountering teachers who still hold a dated perspective of schooling as the necessary evil, the work students have to do to get to the reward. These teachers tend to use anything from free time to candy as such reward, disconsidering the principle that human beings are inherently curious and hungry for knowledge – which is the drive for young children’s explorations, and that continues throughout life if their environment allows.

Learning for life

I see the importance of taking breaks and watching a movie, playing games, or reading a story every once in a while, and I do negotiate with my students that if they do not waste instructional time I can add that fun twist at the end of the week. However, it is not at the expense of teaching, it is one more piece in the puzzle, and it is usually when my students do most of the work. It is what I would call the “application” piece, because when they are watching a movie, playing a game, or reacting to a story, they are independently using the structures and the vocabulary, or digesting the ideas we have been studying – sometimes with my guidance to stay on track, but often not needing it because the “entertainment” is chosen to fit the teaching, and the teaching is chosen to fit their lives, to be useful and meaningful. So the “fun stuff” is actually part of the plan, and it is when, ideally, the cycle comes to a conclusion.

Work x Pleasure

So when I hear teachers defending that the children need rewards, that they need a reason to read (!!!!), or that they are allowing free time as pay for passing a test or doing homework, I feel my heart beat fast and my blood rush to my face in desperation that these children are not being taught that learning IS rewarding – an idea most of them came to school with and are being robbed of. It also leads me to question whether these students are being taught to connect school content with their lives, if they are being stimulated to make sense of what they learn.

Work AND Pleasure

The impression I get is that, in the long run, these children are not being taught that work is what we choose to do for a living because we believe in it, because we enjoy its results, because it fullfills us personally. What they are learning is that work is what we do between our moments of happiness.

I wonder if that is how these professionals feel about their work too.