A Fellow Traveller

Words kill; words give life. They're either poison, or fruit - you choose. What does this proverb have to do with a primary classroom? I didn't know the answer at first but knew I needed to post the proverb on the bulletin board. I needed a visible reminder that my words have a powerful effect for good and for bad - it's my choice how I react and what I will choose to say. This week alone, I have referred to this proverb four times (and it's only Tuesday). When gossip is being passed around, right in the middle of work time, it's time to stop and evaluate what's happening. When verbal put-downs are handed out continually on the playground and feelings are hurt, it's time to stop the pattern. When written words, "You are a failure." are posted on a worksheet, it's time to redefine peer feedback. When threats of revenge are spoken undercover to keep things a secret, it's time to expose and stop the poison. What if that's w

A "good fit" book is one that is at just the right reading level for the reader; one that a student wants to read independently and can comprehend. I found a read-a-loud book last week that was just right for an unexpected teachable moment with my primary class. I can't remember exactly why I first chose the book five months ago, but there it sat buried in a pile on my desk at school. Because of the three months away from the classroom, I had totally forgotten it was even there. After telling the third installment of my baby bird story (as in previous posts), I realized that I needed to follow up on the death and dying theme. As I prepared my lesson plans for the next day, I wondered where to go next. I moved some things to be tidied up and found the book "Good-bye Vivi". This surprising find turned out to be an amazing perfect fit. In the picture book, Grandma and her pet bird move in with a family with young children. One day the bird takes sick and dies of o

(Read the previous two posts for background to this one. Start with Mothering from Outside.) Because I've been talking about the baby birds, my students keep asking for more of the story each day. I had shared the discovery of finding the birds joined together, but had downplayed the certainty of their deaths. Yesterday I decided to make it a teachable moment, not waiting for the inevitable questioning. My daughters were the ones to remove the birds from the nest while I was at school. In the process of lifting them out, the nest was destroyed. Some kind of nesting material must have been wrapped around the bird's legs, causing their legs to fuse and "grow" together. They possibly died of starvation, although the stronger one probably tried to get free of the other. Even though my girls had cared for the birds, I had a need to see them for myself. It was as if I needed closure. It wasn't enough to forget and move on, telling myself they were just birds.

(To understand better, read the previous post Mothering from Outside) When I got home from school, I checked the nest outside, expecting it to be empty by now. I was sure the birds would have "flown the coop". My whole perspective has changed, now that I see more of the truth. The bird who was trying to fly yesterday is still trying, but will never fly. What I couldn't see before was that he is joined at one leg to the other bird. There must have been some kind of birth defect that joins them together. Were their eggs partially joined together or did they share the same egg as siamese twins? Or did something happen after birth? http://www.deseretnews.com/article/705375988/Free-at-last-conjoined-robins-separated-one-in-critical-condition.html It looks like the stronger has been attempting to remove this burdensome weight. There is blood on the eavestrough and the weaker one no longer is chirping. The biggest one is on the edge while the other is head first insid

(This is the first of the bird story.) Today seems to be "pre-flight day" on our back deck. One baby robin has already fled the nest leaving two reluctant siblings behind. The mother is flying back and forth between two small trees, alternating between loud calls and a more gutteral sound from the back of her throat. There is a continual conversation going on between mother and offspring. The one on the nest's edge keeps responding to her, showing some motion towards flying but no real action. "You can do it, dear. I just know you can, " I imagine the mother saying. "But I don't think I'm ready yet. I've never done it before. I'm afraid I'll fall." From the side, I find myself joining the conversation with, "You can do it, little guy. You must be ready to fly, if your mom is calling. Just go for it!" I realize that they have everything they need to fly. The wings are getting stronger as they