The Rose That Grew from Concrete

Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature’s law is wrong it
learned to walk with out having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.

   – Tupac Shakur –

For those of you who don’t know me, Tupac is one of my favorite artists of all time.  I find him to be not only one of the best lyricists and performers of all time but a simply fascinating human being.  Some of his music seems shallow.  It talks about the same stuff that much of the rap music of the time talked about; sex, drugs, women, guns, more women, more sex, liqour, punk police, etc.  But then there are songs like “Dear Mama,” a ballad to his mother, thanking her for all she did for him and telling her that now he can see how hard life was on her, especially because of him.  Songs like “Keep ya Head Up,” and “Changes,” that are honest social commentary of the day.  There are deeply passionate songs like “Life Goes On,” to fallen comrades.  If you explore the person that was and is Tupac Amaru Shakur, you’ll find that even his “thug life” phrase meant much more to him than what it seemed on the outside.

And then on a whole different level, is his book of poetry, The Rose That Grew from Concrete.  The poems in it are deeply introspective and full of raw emotion set to word.  As I read through it, each of the poems hits me on an emotional level because when I hear them, I picture my own students.  Their upbringings and home lives are so incredibly different from my own.  I could not possibly describe myself as a rose that grew from concrete but rather a rose that grew from a well fertilized and up-kept garden.

When I read the poem at the top of the page, I feel two different emotions mostly.  First, I feel hope.  I hope that, like that rose, my students all  prove nature’s laws wrong and learn to walk with no feet and breathe fresh air.  I hope that they blossom and escape lives of poverty.  I would like to think that what I am doing here is helping give them a chance to do that.  However, when I read the poem, I also feel a profound sadness knowing that this will not be the case with all of them.  I know that the rose that blossoms from a crack in the concrete is a rarity.  Statistics show that the majority of my students are being dealt a loaded hand.  The odds are not in their favor.

Now, I’ve been teaching long enough that I’ve had enough success stories to keep me going.  Students have come back to me to tell me about some of the things they’re accomplishing.  But I’ve also been teaching long enough to see the opposite as well.  Last year, I went to two students’ parents’ funeral.  It was a homicide/suicide.  Stuff like that tears me apart.  If I’m being honest, I’m much more of an empath than is healthy.  I try to push it aside and keep on, but it sticks with me.  I spend hours at night worrying about them (I haven’t seen either one since the funeral) and where they are now or will be in two years.  And I think how my first class of fifth grade students are soon to be juniors in high school and wonder how many are still in school and how many dropped out.  And then I worry about what their futures hold.

And then I stopped and thought about how to change this.  Like how can I make it less of a rarity to see a rose grow from a crack in the concrete?  It’s something I’ve thought about a lot ever since I first read the poem and I think I’ve got the answer.  The answer is to make more cracks in the concrete.  I need to work harder at breaking down environmental barriers that inhibit my students’ growth.  Provide more emotional support and a stable environment for them to flourish.  Manage my own temperament to provide an example of how to appropriately react in a crisis situation.  Try to remain encouraging in their failures even when it’s the hundredth time.  Be understanding of underlying circumstances that might be causing behaviors.  Be even keeled and fair in discipline.  Be more proactive to teach appropriate social interactions. Above all show them love even in the face of disrespect and defiance.  I know that sounds cheesy as all get out.  However, it’s the only thing that makes sense to me.  If roses will grow in cracks in the concrete, and we want roses to grow, crack the concrete.  So I’ll end this post with another of Tupac’s poems titled “And 2morrow.”  I think that it does a beautiful job of expressing the pain of today along with the hope for tomorrow.

 Today is filled with anger
fueled with hidden hate
scared of being outcast
afraid of common fate

Today is built on tragedies
which no one wants 2 face
nightmares 2 humanities
and morally disgraced

Tonight is filled with rage
violence in the air
children bred with ruthlessness
because no one at home cares

Tonight I lay my head down
but the pressure never stops
knawing at my sanity
content when I am dropped

But 2morrow I c change
a chance 2 build a new
Built on spirit intent of Heart
and ideals
based on truth

and tomorrow I wake with second wind
and strong because of pride
2 know I fought with all my heart 2 keep my
dream alive

Gas Leaks

Students at the elementary level have a lot of gas…like a lot a lot.  Thinking about it, it’s probably not that much more than middle or high school age, they simply don’t have the body control or the social acumen yet to realize when the proper times and where the proper locations are for releasing it.  Gas is something that all elementary teachers deal with on a daily basis, but there are three times I can remember that really stood out to me.

All names have been changed to protect the innocent…except Mr. Peters…that’s his actual name.

Mr. Peters and the Nuclear Fallout

Our janitor at the school is named Mr. Peters.  He is an elderly African American gentleman who quietly goes about the building.  When he is interacting with the students at the school, he is almost always gentle, kind, and patient.  I have really only seen one time in an interaction with a student when this was not the case.

We had a set of twins named Rick and Rob at the school.  I worked with both of them for the year that they were at the school.  However, one time stands out.  I had a group of eight students, Rob among them, working with me in the teachers’ lounge which doubled as my reading intervention room.  Rob was always gassy but today was on a different level.  The problem is that not only is it gross but it is also a huge distraction and time waster.  So finally, I said, “Listen, if you really have to do that, you don’t even have to ask me.  Just get up and walk into the hallway and come back.  Give it ten seconds to clear out before you start walking back though.” About five minutes later, Mr. Peters was walking down the hallway and stepped into the doorway of the lounge to ask me a question.  It just so happened that at that moment, Rob felt the urge.  So he jumped up out of his chair, ran to the doorway, stood right next to Mr. Peters, and let it rip.

The look of shock and horror on Mr. Peters face is something that I will never forget as long as I live.  It was the first, and the last time for that matter, that I ever heard him raise his voice at a student.  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” The shock on Mr. Peters face was matched by the shock on Rob’s face at hearing Mr. Peter’s shout.  “Well Mr. Steidl told me if I had to fart again that I should go into the hallway!” “WELL YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO STAND RIGHT NEXT TO ME WHEN YOU DID IT!” To this day, whenever the issue of a gassy student comes up in Mr. Peter’s presence, he just looks at me, shakes his head, and says, “There’ll never be one as bad as the twin.”

Dynamite Comes in Small Packages

It always amazes me that so much gas can come out of such small bodies.  I remember working with this tiny little first grade girl.  She probably weighed all of about 35 pounds.  We were working on letters and letter sounds in a group of probably five students.  She at least had the decency to do what she had to do silently.  But they were powerful.  The kind of powerful that leaves your eyes watering.  Every time it happened, the kids would all look around and then pull their shirts over their noses.  Finally, one boy said, “My God who is that?!?!” To which four of the students said, “Not me!!!!” The little girl looked straight at me with a pleading look on her face and said, “I can’t even lie, it’s been me the whole time.  I just can’t keep them in! I feel like I’m gonna float into the ceiling if I do!”

Don’t Drink the Water…well Milk Actually

My first year of teaching, I was working in our second grade classroom with a teacher named Ms. Dworkin.  We were both first year teachers working on figuring this whole teaching thing out.  I got into the classroom second period and stayed for two full periods which was a total of 90 minutes.  The classroom was on the basement floor of the school and for some reason was not equipped with any kind of fan.  The lack of air movement became most apparent right around 9:15 every morning.  The room would simply fill with this horrible stench that enveloped any and all living creatures within its confines.  In the fall, we mitigated it by opening windows and doors but once the Northeast Ohio winter hit, that became impossible.  I should have bought stock in Glade air fresheners in the fall because Ms. Dworkin and I would go through the classroom with one in each hand like Rooster Cogburn in True Grit just spraying fresh linen or lavender freshness on everything.  However the stench remained.  It was the kind of pervasive smell like when people smoke weed.  Like they spray cologne or Axe or Febreeze to try to cover it up but in the end just end up smelling like whatever they sprayed…and weed.

Ms. Dworkin and I simply could not figure out who the culprit was.  Until one day a student came into class with a note.  It read, “Please do not allow student to drink the milk at lunch.  He is very lactose intolerant and it gives him indigestion and gas.”  The light went on.  The next morning at breakfast I walked in to see this student with three empty cartons of chocolate milk in front of him. I said, “Woah woah woah, you can’t drink those! You know what they’ll do to you.”  He looked up at me and said, “I know but they’re sooooooo goooooood!”

 

This is Why Teachers Drink

I know it might be hard for you to picture your old third grade teacher Mrs. Schneider kicking back after school on Friday at the local watering hole with a cold beer, but the truth of the matter is that most teachers do drink.  Don’t judge too harshly.  It’s a stressful job no matter where you teach.  I’ve spoken with teachers in the suburbs, in rural areas, and in urban areas, and most of them agree that kids sometimes drive them to the bottle.  It’s not that we don’t enjoy our jobs or love the kids that we teach.  It’s just that sometimes a bit of the sauce helps to take the edge off at the end of the week.  Or the middle of the week….Or on a Monday night.  Whichever.

I’m not going to even get into the really rough stuff that we deal with such as calling Child Protective Services.  I also won’t talk about the simple day to day like constantly having to argue with 7 year olds.  On a side note, I’ve found that even when I’m at home, I just naturally say everything three times while increasing both the volume of my voice and the articulation of hard consonants with each consecutive repetition.  Just a habit I’ve developed because I assume no one hears and/or listens the first two times I say things.  So, for the purpose of the blog, I’ll just share a few examples of the day to day life that makes us run to the bottle.

Dominoes

Over the past three weeks especially, our first grade students have had several incidents in which one person has pushed another in line and they fell down like dominoes and there are five kids crying and holding their faces.  The mop up duty after these occurrences are particularly annoying because A) there are five kids crying, B) all the kids are angry, and C) there is never a way to definitively get to the initial push.  There’s never an answer to who pushed who first that caused the domino effect…until this past week.

Our first grade teacher and I have been concentrating more heavily on the class’ transition periods in the hall.  Walking to and from PE, music, lunch, etc. is from where half the problems of the day originate.  So Ms. North, the first grade teacher, walks at the front of the line, and I walk at the back.  We had arrived safely and without major incident at our destination and were lined up against the wall waiting for their Reading Enrichment teacher to call them into the classroom.  I was patrolling back and forth and saw one little boy lean forward and whisper into the girl’s ear in front of her.  I said, “Now what could have been so important that you just had to lean forward to talk to her in the hallway?”  Immediately his face dropped and he replied, “Nothing.”

The little girl rolled her eyes, shook her head, and said, “He told me to push him again.”…I paused a moment.  I said, “You’re going to have to repeat that.  I thought you said that he asked you to push him.”  “Yeah,” she said, “He asks people to push him so he can fall into other kids and make everybody fall down.”  I fixed an icy gaze on the boy and immediately the water works started.  “But no one got hurt yet today!” He yelled through tears.  And this is why teachers drink.  These are the things that waste our time.  We have to sort through crying children to find that one kid actually asks others to push him so that he can fall into others and knock everyone down.

Cocooning

So yes, I realize that the root of this word is most commonly used as a noun, as in the pupal casing that envelops most moths and caterpillars or other insect larvae.  However, I have started using it as a verb because of our students.  Our heating system at the school is very old.  It’s a boiler system and not a forced air system so it takes a little while to warm up in the morning.  Usually, I allow my students to keep their jackets on for the first 30-45 minutes of each day.  After that, the rooms are very warm and the students have to put their jackets in their lockers.  This makes it harder for the kleptomaniacs in the room to hide whatever markers, staplers, pencils, coffee mugs, etc. that they’re trying to steal. (Yes, I’ve had students try to steal all those things.  I once found a student with 17 highlighters stuffed into the pockets of his coat. Why?…great question.  I’m glad you asked and I wish I had an answer.)

However warm the classrooms may be, student still do this thing in which they tuck their arms and hands inside their shirts.  All in all, probably not a big deal until they need to write, or turn a page, or move, or do anything other than just sit there.  It then turns into them trying to stick just their hand out of the collar of their shirt and bend down to turn the page, or write, etc and then it is a problem.  It’s also simply a safety hazard when they have to move.  Students in the primary age have not yet mastered the simple art of walking, let alone walking in a line, or walking in a line up and down stairs.  They trip and fall a lot.  If you have never worked with 25 elementary age students in a group, you probably think I’m exaggerating.  Believe me I’m not.  So, if a student is cocooning and trips and falls, rather than using his hands to break his fall, he will use his face to do so.

Getting them to stop cocooning is a constant struggle.  You might think that it’s not a big deal.  However, every year that I’ve taught, I’ve had at least three instances of a student walking with his hands inside his shirt and tripping and falling.  However, from the months of October to May, I have no memory of a day in which I have not had to tell at least three students to get their hands out of their shirts.  And it’s always an argument.  And this is why teachers drink. (On a side note, students are allowed to wear sweaters with their uniforms.  I have actually bought students sweaters that they can wear and they refuse because they don’t like them.)

Target Practice and the Poop Bandit

For some reason, the boys bathroom at the school is always a huge problem.  For about a two year stretch, there was an unknown student that we began referring to as the Poop Bandit.  Although our boys’ bathroom is equipped with five or six perfectly working toilets, this child felt it more comfortable to defecate in the sink.  At least twice a month we would find turds in the sink of the boys bathroom.  We never found out who it was either.  If any other students knew who it was, none of them told us anything.It hasn’t happened at all this year though.  But this is why teachers, and janitors, drink.

Our boys bathroom is also equipped with a drain in the middle of the floor.  And although it also has about five or six perfectly good urinals, the boys find it fun to stand around the drain and see how far away they can get and still get it in the drain.  Obviously it’s a trial and error system so by definition they are going to eventually miss…and they miss a lot.  And this is why teachers drink.

 

 

Parenting

I remember my first parent interaction as a first year teacher in Cleveland.  A large woman who was the mother of two boys at our school approached me at our school’s open house and said, “Mr. Steidl, if you’re going to be working with my boys just know that you have my permission and my blessing to put your hands on them if you feel that they need it.”  I smiled and started laughing.  Then I looked at her and saw that she was not at all joking…not at all what I was expecting.  Over the years, I’ve seen a lot.  I’ll not go into detail about the bad.  I would rather share humorous stories about some of the parenting that I’ve witnessed as I’ve worked here.

The Street Vendor

I will forever remember one of my ESL students named Jimmy.  His mother called him Jimmyto.  For those of you who are not familiar with Spanish, adding -ito or sometimes -cito to the end of a name is a form of endearment.  The official name for it is a diminutive.  For English we turn the end of names into a -y to do this sometimes.  Hence, Daniel becomes Danny, Madelyn can become Maddy, etc.  So when she called him “Mi Jimmyto” she was saying how much she cared for her little Jimmy.  Of course he was embarrassed when she did it in public but we all thought it was really nice.  However, she was a strict disciplinarian at the same time.  If she found Jimmy to be at fault in any way at school, she would let him know.

On one particular occasion, Jimmy had been talking back to one of his teachers all week and she finally came to me and asked me if I could speak with her after school, (she only spoke Spanish) to let her know that if his behavior continued that he would be receiving an after school detention.  It was a like a miracle.  The next day, Jimmy came in, sat quietly in his seat, stood in line silently, and did his work without complaint.  In our small group, I inquired what spurred this change in attitude.   I can still remember the look on his face when he said, “My mom said that if I don’t get it together she’s going to send me to Peru to stand on the streets and sell those little chocolate candies.  She wasn’t joking Mr. Steidl.  I really think she will.”  I thought about telling him she wouldn’t really do that but I didn’t for two reasons.  First, if he actually thought she would then I didn’t want to disrupt any leverage that she had in that.  Secondly, and more importantly, I wasn’t actually sure that she wouldn’t do it and didn’t want to lie to the kid.

Them Rawlings Though

We had another student who was actually in the same class as Jimmy who was just forever getting in trouble.  Disrespectful, defiant, disruptive, you name it.  His mother is one of my favorite persons of all time and I actually really liked him too.  Like many of our parents she was a single mother trying to work and raise a child on her own at the same time.  So we tried not to bother her too much with her son’s behavior and tried to handle things in house as much as possible without involving her.  However, there were times when we simply had to get her involved.  One of those times was her son’s fourth grade year.  He had been simply awful for about two weeks straight and we called her for a conference to brainstorm possible solutions.  As we sat down and talked through it, we found that she was at her whit’s end too when it came to his behavior.  In her words, “I could beat that child every day and his head is so hard it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.”  So we tried and tried all year to find a solution to his behavior but nothing seemed to get through to him.  Then one day, she came in with a big grin on her face.  “I got it.  We’re good.  You know how he loves his shoes right?” (It was true, the boy was always fit with the newest KDs or Kyries or LeBrons).  “Well, I took a trip to Payless Shoes and bought some good old fashioned Rawlings.  So, if he acts up again, you know what he’s gonna be wearing for a week?”

I have forever in my mind the look on his face one Wednesday morning after he’d had a particularly bad Tuesday as he walked in with that pair of Rawlings on his feet.  I didn’t make a big deal out of it.  He looked at me mournfully and looked down at his feet.  I looked down at his feet and then back up at him.  “She did it?” “Yep, she did it.”  “All week?” “Yep. All week.”  His behavior for the rest of the week was stellar.  I’d like to say that things changed for the rest of the year, but unfortunately that would be false.  However, for that one week….

Renata’s Revenge

There was one boy who we will call Dan who was actually a really great kid.  He transferred to our school about halfway through the year and didn’t re-enroll for the next year so I didn’t ever really know him or his family that well.  However, I remember about two incidents in which we had to call home for behavior.  Both times, I remember that even I was scared at the look on his mother’s face when she came to get him.  I only met her twice but will forever remember that her name was Renata.  It was nearing the end of the year and I had started to plan out the summer reading program for the school.  We were going to do a treasure hunt theme in which students could read books, take a test, and then move a playing piece on this game board to earn prizes.  The game board was a large table decorated like an island with buried treasure.  I had Dan and a few other students helping me decorate.  I remember Dan’s mother was named Renata because he built the pirate ship that was in the cove of the island.  He named the ship “Renata’s Revenge.”  I still laugh anytime I think of that.

Interview with Doug Hoover

Hey Everyone!  Welcome to my first ever attempt at an interview.  I chose one of my favorite teaching peers of all time to interview, Doug Hoover.  We worked together for three years at Horizon Science Academy Denison Elementary.  The interview was conducted over several days via a Google Doc.  I shared with him the initial questions and he answered them and then I followed up with some more questions to try to give it the feel of a face to face interview even though it was conducted entirely online.  Hope you enjoy getting some insight into the life of another teacher.  If you have any suggestions for questions to ask in future interviews, please leave them in the comments section or via the contact page.  Thanks for reading!

Erik – So, can you start by just giving us a history of your teaching career?

Doug – I am in my 9th year of teaching P.E.! My first 3 years of teaching, I was part-time at two different private elementary schools located on the opposite sides of Parma, Ohio. The next 3 years of teaching I was at a Charter school in Cleveland, Ohio (Horizon Science Academy…with you!). The past 3 years, I have been teaching Elementary P.E. in Lorain City Schools. This is just my official PE teaching. I have been doing summer camps/sports camps for probably close to 12 years.

Erik – So all nine years teaching at the elementary level.  Do you ever envision moving to middle or high school?  Is that something you think you would like to do at some point?

Doug – I’m not sure to be honest…if I HAD to, I definitely would, but I really enjoy the elementary level kids. Most of them are excitable and want to be there. I could see myself being a lifer at the elementary level.

Erik – What led you to be a teacher in the first place?

Doug – I enjoyed being around kids and wanting to help them make good decisions. I liked being able to teach them how to do things. Not saying that I am good at all those things by any means, but I am more skilled than a young child so I feel like I could do some good! Going through school, I enjoyed PE and being able to get my energy out and learn how to do cool things (and ride on scooters and play with the parachute of course). I had pretty good relationships with the teachers I had and liked most of them… I will admit, that most of the time, I was that kid trying to do the right thing and be helpful whenever I could. If I could help leave this world a more positive place because I was able to influence some kids in a good way, than I wanted to do it.

Erik – Have you ever thought about leaving teaching for another vocation?

Doug – There are bits and pieces of me that every once in a while pop up and think about, what if I had gone into a trade or some more construction. I do enjoy the work, but I don’t think it would ever be enough to leave teaching. I work in the summers as a director of a summer camp and if I were to change anything, I would test the water in the summer with something different. I do really like working at the summer camp too though.

Erik – Does it bother you when people call it “Gym Class” and not “Physical Education”?

I’m kind of split…to me, it all depends on the demeanor of the person saying it, and honestly, the age. If it is an older person/teacher, to them, it was “Gym class” and I guess old habits are hard to break. When someone calls it “Gym Class” in a bad way, like it’s just recess, or they think that I just supervise kids playing dodgeball…yes, it does bother me. I have learned to thank and emphasize when teachers and students refer to it as PE, and subtly correct those who call it “Gym.” For example, if a teacher says (and I am around to hear it) “When you’re done with gym, I want to hear a good report.” I would say something (to the kids when the teacher can hear it) like “After PE, I hope that I can give your teacher a good report.” I obviously always use the term PE, or Physical Education/Phys, Ed. but I do not flip out on people when they say “gym class.” It does bother me when PE teachers call it “gym class” though. Have some respect for your own professions. Although, I do believe that the final wave of PE teachers that just roll out the ball, will soon be all the way out the door.

Erik – As a fellow bald man, I catch a lot of flack from kids about my hairline.  Do you get the same?  Does it bother you?

Doug – Initially, I did get some flack, but that was right at the end of college/graduation. I quickly learned to embrace it and I just keep my hair buzzed. It’s second nature now and I am fully willing to put my baldness out there. I make fun of myself for it or when my hair gets a little long, the kids start to notice and they ask why I keep it short all the time. I bend over a little bit and show them the horseshoe pattern on my head and say my hair is thin and non-existent. The soon realize it. Recently over Christmas break, I decided to not shave. I’m personally still undecided on it, but the kids at school are pretty split. I think that the one’s that like it, or say they like it are just being nice. Then there are those kids that almost every day say… “You need to shave. That looks bad.

Erik – I’ve always said that if you want an honest unadulterated opinion of yourself, ask a first grader. Have you ever been seriously offended by something a student said to you?

Doug – Not that I can remember. If a kid insults me or my class, or the school. I know they are just upset about something and don’t know how to truly express it other than by throwing out insults. I usually just ignore it or shrug it off.

Erik – What are some of the best memories you have of teaching?

Doug – Throughout the years, there have been a lot of kids that have impacted my life through teachable moments. Along with that, there have been several events and moments during class that will forever be engraved in my mind. The culture shock of the first few classes of teaching some kids and seeing their behaviors and saying “I gotta use it”…knowing what they meant, I would say…”Use what?!” Eventually, after them saying “IT!” over and over again, I kindly correct them, using correct grammar. Most of the students got it quickly because I wouldn’t let them go if they didn’t ask correctly. Making up handshakes with kids, building relationships with them and joking around with them was really awesome. Knowing that I could see a kid in the hallway and connect with them and help them figure out why they were in trouble and work with them to make better choices was great. Specifically, there was a crazy time that I won’t forget…It wasn’t a best memory, but one that will last. It was the 2nd week of school during my first year at Horizon Science Academy. And for those of you that aren’t aware, the Gym was in a separate building in the lower level…it was big which was great, but it had that musty dungeon type feel to it. We were playing a game where students were working on locomotor skills with music and quickly and quietly finding a hula hoop to go in, or share with a partner, when I stopped the music. 2nd round of playing (Kindergarten I believe…maybe 1st grade), there was a student named Ivrionna. She took of sprinting for a green hula hoop and there was a student standing looking for a hula hoop. Ivrionna saw him and dodged him, but did not see a second student running in a perpendicular path and WHAMMM! She immediately goes down screaming! I knew it was bad, but as always, you have to keep your cool. I went over to her and asked her where she was hurt and she looked up to me holding her hand under her mouth which was full of blood and her upper lip was split wide open and blood was pouring out! I immediately ran to the old kitchen that was connected to the gym where I kept my gloves, etc and ran with paper towels back to her. God bless the kids in the class at the time, because they all stayed away and were calm because they knew I had to handle the bloody mess. I had her hold the paper towel on her lip and I called over to the school to send someone over to get her. A couple minutes passed and no one came, so I sent her with a trusted student to the office. I stayed on the phone with the secretary who was watching them come from the gym to the office until she told me they were with her. It was a crazy moment, but one that I won’t forget! Not sure if that was the kind of “best memory” you were looking for, but for the more traditional “best memory” I would say that there were several of those “Yes, I got it!” moments with kids working on certain skills that would get overly frustrated, but were determined to get it. I even worked with some of them during my lunch to give them extra time because they didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of their classmates. It is pure joy when a student achieves something they didn’t even believe they could do themselves. I have a 4th grade student whom is reserved and timid, English is their second language and they are not very coordinated. It was actually this week that we were working with long jump ropes and jumping in while the rope was spinning. I could tell this student was never going to try it on her own. I watched to see what her groupmates were doing, and they tried encouraging her, but she kept standing quietly away from her group. I came along side of her and said to her, “Pretty scary, huh?” She nodded her head and I assured her that I would come along side of her and help her time it up and I would pat her on the back when it was time to follow the jump rope in and then jump. She hesitantly agreed and God Bless the kids in the group who were so patient with her. The kids started spinning the rope nice and slow and really big so she had a huge window of opportunity. I stood next to her…”1…2…3…Go!” I gave her that pat on the back and she trustingly went for it, and she nailed it! She ran in and jumped over the jump rope twice and was elated! The biggest smile I have ever seen on this girl and her group mates immediately came over and congratulated her…made my day!

Erik – I remember Ivrionna!  She was a kindergartener in Mrs. Turner’s class I believe.  Tiny little girl with a big voice. Do moments like that make it all worth it for you?  Is it hard to get through the stress of the day to day to make it to those times?

Doug – Moments like that do make the more stressful moments worth it. Although, you never know when those moments may come. Sometimes, it takes a while and it gets rough. My family is truly what makes everything worth it. Knowing that I’m providing for my family enables me to really put up with anything.

Erik – What do you do aside from teaching?

Doug – I am a husband of almost 9 years to an amazing wife and mother, and I am a father of two incredible boys (3 &1/2, and 11 months). I have a long commute to work, so during the school year, I pretty much come home and play with my boys then hang out with my bride then go to bed. During breaks or on weekends, I am an occasional runner, and I enjoy working with my hands. Not saying I’m great, but I like to do woodworking and help family members with projects or building things. That takes up most of my time, and I love it. I will also throw out there that I do enjoy spending time with my friends. I don’t keep in contact with friends from High School, but I made the best friends of my life during college (and a couple throughout my working career). I put a strong emphasis on being intentional with those relationships whether it’s through text or phone calls. It’s one of those situations where you haven’t hung out for a long time but never missed a beat sort of thing.

Thank you for interviewing me and including me in your new endeavor!

Unexpected Answers

I remember this old Calvin and Hobbs cartoon in which Calvin is in class chewing gum.  His teacher, with the intention of getting him to spit out the gum, asks him if he has enough for the entire class.  The inferred response is that no, Calvin probably does not have enough for the entire class.  However, the next picture in the cartoon shows Calvin holding a large glob of chewed gum dripping saliva.  His answer to his teacher was “Probably, but do you really think they’d want it?”  They next picture shows him standing in front of his principal’s desk saying, “It was her idea.”

Sometimes, a teacher asks a question with an answer already in mind.  Well, to be truthful, the majority of questions that I ask have an intended response.  However, I’ve found that many times, like Calvin’s teacher, I don’t actually get the answer I was expecting.  So, here are some simple anecdotes of times when I got an answer that I wasn’t expecting.

All the names have been changed to protect the…well not exactly innocent.

The Strongest Man Competition

I was walking down the hallway when I heard yelling coming from one of our first grade rooms. I stopped in front of the door and their teacher asked if I wouldn’t mind sorting out what had happened.  There were two first grade boys involved and both were yelling and crying.  I started by separating the boys and then finding the most truthful student in first grade and asking her what happened.  She said, “I’m not sure Mr. Steidl, all I saw was Shane twisting Paul’s arm.”  Oh boy.  So I called Shane out in the hallway and asked him what happened.  Well, Shane wasn’t about to tell me anything.  He stood there stonefaced and refused to either confirm or deny the twisting of the arm or any events surrounding the alleged incident.  So, at this point I was starting to get annoyed and sent Shane back into class and called Paul out in the hallway.  Paul came out to the hallway all teary eyed with his nose dripping.  I gave him my sternest teacher look (still a work in progress to be sure) and asked him to tell me in his own words what happened.  Through sniffles, he told me how he, Shane, and a boy named Cam had been having an arm wrestling contest during class.  He then shamefully told me how Shane had started winning in their contest so he had used two hands.  Shane got angry since Paul had cheated and twisted his arm.

So the truth comes out but it’s not really a big deal.  It was just a case of first grade boys being first grade boys.  However, I felt at this time that I needed to put my teacher face back on and give him a good talking to about how it’s not ok to arm wrestle in class.  However, the way I went about this was entirely wrong.  I phrased it as a rhetorical question. “Paul, why were you arm wrestling in class?!?! You’re there to learn, not arm wrestle!”  At this point, he looked up at me blinking his teary eyes and said, “But we was just trying to find out who the strongest man was.”  I had to turn around so he didn’t see me laughing.

Running with your eyes closed

As someone in the building with advanced first aid training, I was called to most injuries that occurred; especially those involving blood.  So, one day, as I was teaching my Title One reading group, our school secretary came over the PA system and said, “Mr. Steidl, please report to gym as soon as possible.”  This was the signal for either a student that was injured or needed restraining.  My students in the group new the drill and picked up their work and headed right back to their mainstream class while I took off for the gym.  I walked in to one of our second grade students sitting in a small pool of blood holding his head.  Our P.E. teacher had already gotten the bleeding mostly stopped, so it was just a matter of cleaning him up, calling his parent/guardian, and getting him further medical aid.  He had been running and had hit his head on a pole in the gym that, for one reason or another, is a square shape with 90* corners instead of being circular.  His head had a fairly large bump that was split down the middle.  His grandfather came to get him and we then turned to the arduous process of discovering what really happened.

As is want to happen, the investigation started with volunteers.  A group of second grade boys ran up yelling that another student had pushed the boy into the pole.  That boy of course began vehemently denying that he had.  The P.E. teacher had been turned the other way and had not seen anything.  So I had one group telling me one thing happened and another group saying another.  I thought that, as usual, the truth lay somewhere in between.  Maybe the student had bumped him or tripped him accidentally.  Or maybe they had both been pushing each other.  Or something along those lines.  However, as I was about to leave the room, one little girl quietly came up to me and asked to speak with me in the hall.  I took her out there and she looked around to make sure no one heard and said, “Mr. Steidl, Timothy didn’t push Carl into the pole.  He wasn’t even close to him.”  “Ok,” I said, “What happened then?”  She again looked around and said, “Well, Carl just ran into the pole.”  “That’s all? He was just running and hit the pole?”  “Well…kind of…He had his eyes closed.”  “Why did he have his eyes closed?” “Well, they dared him to run for ten seconds with his eyes closed.”…I had no words.  But I think that nothing better summarizes second grade boys than that exchange of words.  He ran into the pole because he had been, on a dare, running with his eyes closed.

Mrs. Steidl

A few years ago I was working with a group of students for Title One reading.  We were working on how to write a personal letter.  I had the layout of a letter up on the Starboard with date, greeting, body, conclusion, and signature all displayed.  We worked through an example letter that we would write to the school principal.  They then began writing their own letters.  I allowed them to choose to whom they were writing their letter and the topic of their letter.  After they completed the rough draft, they each brought their letter to me to check over.

As I was reading over one little girl’s letter, I noticed that in the signature of the letter she’d written “Mrs. Steidl.”  I assumed that she had the greeting and the signature confused and had intended to address her letter to either me or my wife (the abbreviations of mister, missus, miss, etc. is always an issue).  I explained it to her and said, “See up here is where you write the name of the person receiving the letter.  Down here is where you put your name.  You put Mrs. Steidl down here.”  She looked at me, winked, and said, “Oh I know what I wrote there.” Then grabbed her paper and ran giggling back to her friends.  I’ve never felt more awkward around an 8 year old.

Memories in the Mundane

So on the weekends, I work a second job as a janitor.  I spend eight hours cleaning a church and getting it ready for Sunday morning.  Although I do enjoy the work, eight hours cleaning by myself goes a lot quicker when I have something to listen to.  So I generally alternate between Pandora and different podcasts.  Lately, I’ve been listening to a podcast covering Israel’s exodus from Egypt to Canaan.  Specifically, this past week dealt with the 40 years exile in the desert.  The thing of note for me that comes out of the 40 years wandering in the desert is not really any single anecdote but really the marked lack of narrative that comes from the entire 40 year time period.  The majority of the writing from that time is the giving of the law.  I looked over the summary of the 40 years from the desert and found that really there are only about 20 stories that come from that time and most of them surround the giving of the law.

Now whether or not you believe in the historicity of the Exodus account or not, I believe that we can still glean a huge single truth about the human experience from this text.  To have only 20 stories come from a period of 40 years tells me that in life, there will be some highs of note, some lows of note, and a few major events to record, but many many more days of mundane routine.  I mean think about it.  Out of a 40 year period, there were only about 20 noteworthy experiences.  That’s one event every two years.

This is something I’ve come to struggle with lately.  At my core, I’ve always felt that I’m an adventurer.  I’m a traveler, a soldier, a student, etc.  I’ve always had some sort of quest on the horizon driving me forward.  Lately however, I’ve felt that life has just gotten very routine and mundane.  It’s hard not to think that some of the adventure is over, at least for a while.  Each day seems to be a lot more of what the last day was.  This is true in both my job and at home.  It’s wake up, go to work, follow my teaching schedule, plan the next day or week, and go home.  At home it’s get home, get dinner ready, fight to get the kids to eat dinner, baths, storytime, dishes, and bed.  Then we sleep a couple hours and repeat it.

I think it would be very easy to fall into an emotional and even spiritual malaise simply following this same routine.  However, I’ve decided to start something to try to find beauty and purpose in the slew of mundane days of routine that happen between the highs and lows that make up the big events in our lives.  I think that there is great beauty to be found in the mundane.  Although events may seem small and insignificant, that does not mean that they are not worthy of committing to memory.  So, A few times a month, I’ll be sharing simple stories that, although not extremely significant or life changing, made my day better through laughter.  Without further ado, here is the first few stories in the series “Memories in the Mundane.”

It’s Good for Your Life!

It was my first year of teaching.  I had started collecting books for my room from library book sales or donations.  I had built up a pretty decent supply of books and was starting to allow students to check books out and take them home.  I had two of my second grade students, we’ll call them Joe and Bob, in my classroom picking out books to take home.  They were perusing the shelves together when they came across a series of books based on stories from the Bible.  Bob looked back and me and said, “Mr. Steidl, why do you have Bible stories here?” Before I even had the chance to answer, Joe turned around and yelled, “BECAUSE IT’S GOOD FOR YOUR LIFE!!!” and punched Bob right in the stomach.  I feel like there’s some hidden metaphor in here about how the modern day evangelical church handles things but that’s probably a different post for a different time :).

Marshmallows and Shrimp

This story takes place in a first grade classroom.  A big skill for primary age children is being able to categorize information.  It is how our brains work most efficiently.  So, in ourmorning meeting, I go around to my first graders and give them a topic and exercise that practices phonemic awareness.  For example I’ll say, “Today when it comes to your turn, tell me your favorite animal and another animal that begins with the same letter and your animal.”  On this particular day, the topic was fruit.  The students had to tell me their favorite fruit and the number of syllables in that fruit’s name.  We went around the circle and students were telling me strawberries, bananas, apples, etc.  It came to a girl who we will call Jane.  I said, “Jane, what is your favorite fruit?”  She looked me dead in the eye and said, “Marshmallows.”  I said, “Honey, marshmallows are not a fruit.” This fact simply blew her away. “Whaaaaaat!?!?!” I gave her three examples of fruit and asked her again what her favorite fruit was.  She said, “You’re for real telling me that a marshmallow is not a fruit?” I said, “That is exactly what I’m telling you.” She replied, “Well, I guess if marshmallows are not a fruit, then I’m gonna have to go with…shrimp.” I have no way to quantify this, but I believe that shrimp is actually less of a fruit than marshmallows.

The Falling V

This story really isn’t as much a story as an image that I will forever have etched into my memory.  I was teaching my fifth grade ESL/Title One reading group.  There was a boy who we will call Tyrell who was forever leaning back on his chair.  I had to remind him about three times every day to put all four legs of his chair back on the ground.  To no avail.  It’s not that he was defiant, he just had a bad habit of leaning back in his chair.  The image I have forever burned into my mind is of when he finally tipped over backwards.  His legs flew up up and spread apart in a V and hung there for about 4 seconds while Tyrell was trying to decide to continue the roll over backwards, roll to the side, or try to sit up forward.  Needless to say, we did not get much productive work done the rest of the period.