All Characters Welcome!

Hello, New Students

School has resumed in many cities across the country. Farewell, Summer!

Attentive readers may remember that I taught school for thirty-five years before retiring in 2013. Back then, here in San Diego, classes began the day after Labor Day. Now, school begins much earlier–in fact, on August 11 this year–to accommodate a huge transition to a year-round school schedule for part of the district.

If I were still teaching with that original later start, I’d be back in my classroom now, anyway, getting bulletin boards up, furniture arranged, and my parent-letter packet photocopied. I did all of that early for self-preservation: There were too many meetings, interruptions, and distractions once adults had returned to campus. I was willing to forgo a week of my vacation each August to enjoy having the place to myself and the gift of time to prepare. (Yes, I’m a chronic Type A+ personality.)

The first day of school can be stressful. Not just for kids, but for teachers and parents, too! My goal in welcoming my new students and their families to my classroom on Day One was first and foremost to ease everyone’s stomach flutters. Then could come some fun and the business of getting to know each other, the rules, and a brief overview of what they could expect in their new grade.

I had my first-day outfit and accessories chosen at least of week before the big day. I would wear a cheerful print dress or skirt to set a friendly but professional tone. Team teaching afforded me the privilege of focusing on the language arts components. (Thanks, team partner and BFF, Barb R!) So, I had an enticing “All Characters Welcome!” bulletin board just inside the classroom door. Each student’s name and photo were posted. Their names and birthdays were listed on a colorful chart with twelve bubbles, one for each month. I enjoyed seeing their smiles when they found themselves on it. A new pencil beckoned, and a colorful nameplate stood like a little index-card tent on each desk so they could settle into their new classroom.

Then, it was time to relax and get a bit acquainted. I would invite the kids to join me on the big classroom rug. I’d say, “Raise your hand if your stomach was doing flip-flops last night or this morning.” Nearly all hands went up. AND SO WOULD MINE! They looked surprised. “Did you know that even we teachers get nervous before school starts?” I asked. Surprised looks again. “Well, believe it or not, I’m a human being like you. I feel joy, fear, and sorrow, too. And I tend to have a repeating nightmare that one of you got so scared that you ran out of my classroom! How would I explain it to the principal?” That was always an ice breaker.

I would offer silly requests such as, “Raise your hand if you like burnt marshmallows. Sauerkraut. Black licorice, etc. Responses were interesting, including mine.

Then, I had a story to share. “Thumbs up if this statement is true; thumbs down if false: Once, my heart stopped beating for six hours, and I lived to tell you about it.” Their fifth-grade heads were shaking, and most thumbs were down. “Impossible,” one would say. After a dramatic pause, my thumb went UP! “No way!” they’d shout. Then, I told them the story of my open-heart surgery in 1994 to correct a birth defect. You could hear a pin drop. The surgeons had to stop my heart for six hours to operate on it. I explained how they stopped my heart (gasps), and about the heart-lung machine hook-up. Mainly, the boys wanted the gory details about the blood and operation. But many girls were all ears, too.

The First Day galloped along with some quiet reading time at their desks as I checked reading levels. Recess. Where to line up. Lunch. A chapter book teacher read-aloud started. A fun art project. A session of, “Ask the Teacher Anything that is School Appropriate.” That parent-letter packet distributed and discussed. Homework: Write a letter to me of any length. The dismissal bell.

Before they left, I would say, “Don’t forget to come back tomorrow. If you don’t, we will miss you. My heart will be sad. Let’s make this a place for our hearts to sing–every day, and where everyone feels comfortable to be themselves.”

I never tired of the smiles on their faces as they bounded out the door to rejoin their parents. Some even said, “Thank you, Ms. J. I’m going to like being in your class.”

I miss that.

(Photo Credits: Atlantic Ambience on pexels.com—left; Pixabay on pexels.com—right)

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