Posted December 11, 2007
Every December
It happens every December. I leave school one day, late in the afternoon, and notice that the sun is already flirting with the western edge of campus. The mountains that circle us are covered with their first dusting of white and I know that it will be dark by the time I get home at 5:00. The branches are bare and the air feels icy and breakable. The experience brings visions of what will sometimes feel like an endless winter that stands between me and April. It happens every December and it makes me melancholy.
I seem to be immune to winter's charms. Try as I might to see its good side, it's still little more than three interminable months of wind and cold to me. Friends have suggested that I should learn to do things that can be done only in the winter so that I'll look forward to its arrival each year rather than dreading it. So, I've scheduled my first skiing lesson for the day hell freezes over, and I'll begin my winter craft-making projects the week after that. I was meant to hibernate in the winter. I was meant to be a bear or a chipmunk for a few months of each year. You can't cure species confusion by strapping skis to your feet or making wreaths out of old toothbrushes.
Something different happened on this year's December day, though. This year, I didn't just jump in the car and try to beat the darkness home. Instead, I turned and looked back through the windows of the school. The building was still full of children and light. We seem to try to pack just as much activity into these short days as we do the long ones. Some students were in violin class or cooking club or in the art room. Middle schoolers were coming and going from basketball practice and chess club. Parents trickled in and out at the end of their work days, picking up children from the After School Program. The school was a tiny hub of activity and light and warmth in the gathering darkness. As so often happens, the very sight of our students lifted my gloom.
I was reminded that important, essential work happens in the darkness. The darkness, both comforting and bleak, is not a void. Sometimes miracles don't happen on stage; sometimes they need a dark and quiet place in which they can put all their pieces together before revealing themselves to us in their full glory. So, during this time of darkness, I will remind myself that seeds are germinating, the sun is slowly returning, granddaughters are learning to walk, and miracles are happening within small children.
Our pagan ancestors felt the magic of this time of the year, and we continue to mark these dark days of December with our celebrations of light. There's something holy in the frigid stillness of our longest nights, something sacred in the sense of anticipation, wonder, and hope. It's a time to gather our children closely, to take joy in the warmth of family and friends. We will rejoice at the solstice when the sun turns its face towards us again.
We will cocoon with our students these next few months, these months when the winds will blow fiercely across our fields, and the basketball court and sandbox will be covered for weeks by snow and ice. Teachers know these deep winter days to be among the most productive academic times of the year. Like those seeds beneath the earth, our students are growing and changing and magical things are happening within them. The day will come when it will all burst out like springtime cherry blossoms and take our breath away.
Some years ago, one of our teachers had a most wonderful winter solstice tradition. On the shortest day of the year, she would take her class outside and when weather conditions cooperated, they would light a flame from the sun of the shortest day of the year...a flame that would burn throughout the longest night that followed. It made me think of catching hope, of holding on to a spark even when things are at their most bleak. A reminder that the warmth, the hope, the promise are always there...sometimes hidden beneath the earth, beyond the stars, or deep within a child...but always there.
Whether you spend this winter with family, on the slopes, making wreaths, or all by yourself with a good book, I wish you happy holidays and the joy of anticipation.
Mary Ziegler
Posted April 3, 2007
Bowling for Learning
I have a collection of notes I’ve received from children over the years. They help me remember school history, they make me laugh, and they do wonders for my self-esteem. There’s the little heart on which a 5-year old wrote, “You are the best prinsubl evr”. (It took me several days to realize that I was his only ‘prinsubl’ ever.) And, there was the note from the sixth grader that said, “No person could be better than you.” That remains a special favorite, even though it was followed immediately by a request to use iPods during class time. (It didn’t work.)
Written communication from children is very different, and often goes much deeper, than verbal communication. The very act of writing requires a different kind of thought and engages young brains in special ways. So, I encourage it. When children have a request, I often ask them to put it in writing, using my fading memory as my excuse. The products are often priceless, precious treasures that go into my collection.
Recently, I was in a meeting in my office. The door was closed, and since most people see that as a sign that I’m occupied, I was surprised to hear a knock…several little knocks, in fact, that sounded as though they came from several little hands. I have trouble ignoring little knocks, so I excused myself, opened the door, and was immediately handed a note:
Dear Teacher Mary,
We would like to borrow $150.
Love,
Teacher Dorothy & Teacher Abby’s Class
This was unusual. I have shared money with students on occasion, but it’s normally been limited to a dollar or two if someone was in a pinch on Pizza Friday. Now, Teachers Dorothy and Abby have a kindergarten and first grade class. These were 5- and 6-year olds asking me to loan them a sizeable amount of money. I love them, but did I trust them as partners on my first foray into venture capitalism? I needed more information, so I observed that $150 was a lot of money and I asked why they needed it.
“We want to go bowling.”
At times, I have found children this age so irresistible that I’ve thought they could talk me into anything. That turns out not to be true. I was not particularly moved to grab my wallet when I heard the reason for the request. Not being a bowler myself, I was not convinced of the educational value of the activity, and my immediate reaction was that $150 seemed like an exorbitant amount to pay to do…that. (It turns out that it’s a rather costly proposition because it requires special unattractive shoes. I don’t know why.)
So, I thought that perhaps all was not as it seemed, and asked for time to deliberate. I needed to investigate further with Teacher Dorothy and I tracked her down at the end of the day.
Dorothy told me that it had all started with the expressed desire of one first grader to go on a field trip to a bowling alley with his class. The idea was well-received by his classmates, and quickly became not just a teachable moment for Dorothy, but a series of many teachable days. She was not going to make this easy. She asked the class how they would get there, and how they would pay for it. Their answer…fund raising!
The class decided that they would sell snacks to other students. In order to accomplish that, they would:
So, all they needed to get started was an interested investor, one who was willing to take a risk on the entrepreneurship of 5-year-olds…and they were quite astute in identifying a likely prospect.
From this simple wish came lessons in math, nutrition, environmental issues, public transportation, advertising, sequencing, team-building, and working together as a community to achieve a common goal…all before we even get to the unattractive shoes and the lessons in how one bowls. As I watched how much these young children were learning, all focused around this seemingly simple project, I thought about how glad I am that our incredibly creative teachers aren’t so busy teaching to the next standardized test that they have no time for this. Our students were learning to do so much more than memorize answers ---they were learning how to make connections, how to get from here to there (both literally and figuratively), how to combine their efforts as a group, and a lot of concrete, practical skills, too. They even got to some human vs. nature issues when their bowling trip was postponed due to a snow day just before Spring Break.
So, later this week, we’ll see this class off on their long-awaited adventure, knowing that they will see the event as so much more than just another field trip. Without a doubt, no child will be left behind, and every one of them will depart with an absolutely stellar credit rating.
Mary Ziegler
Archive
Traditions 1/10/07
Pajama Day 2/20/06
Stories 11/6/2006
Bugs, Plumbing, and Wolves 9/25/2006
First Day/First Week 9/9/2006