This morning I went back to elementary school. I couldn’t get my hair to cooperate because of the heatwave, and my shirt kept slipping and showing my bra strap (which never happens with that particular shirt, so I blame the bra). I convinced myself that I would not get lost and, directions in hand, jumped on the highway on my trek to the town my school is in.
I found the school with little trouble, found a parking space right away, and for a moment looked at the building I was about to enter. All one level, from the outside it just looked like one long, skinny building. It looked nothing like the elementary school I had gone to, but I hadn’t expected it to. I went inside and found the main office right away. Everything stood out at me in bright, friendly colors. I felt a little out of place but not unwelcome; the school practically jumped up and down saying, “Hi Elizabeth!”
I stepped into the main office shyly, feeling all eyes on me. “Hello,” said the secretary.
“Hi,” I said. “My name’s Elizabeth Barone. I’m here to see Mr. Johnson*.”
“He’s in a meeting,” she said. “Is he expecting you?”
“Yes. I’m from Southern.” I looked at the two secretaries anxiously. Had I just drove down here for nothing?
“Your last name?” The second secretary asked.
Just then, a relatively young guy in a nice dark suit came into the room. “Mr. Johnson’s in a meeting,” he told me. “He let me know she was coming,” he told the secretaries. “Hi,” he said to me. “I’m Mr. Valdez*.”
He led me to a comfortable conference room and we sat down. We briefly talked about my program at Southern and my EDU-200 course, my grade preference, and my preference for an inclusive classroom (classroom with general education kids and special needs kids, integrated). I told him I didn’t have a grade preference, but that I definitely needed an inclusive classroom for my SED-225 class.
“I have a classroom for you,” he said, his brown eyes lighting up. I liked him instantly. He was warm, friendly, and I could tell that he just loved his job. “It’s first grade,” he said.
I nodded vigorously. I had purposely not picked a certain grade because, honestly, I’m not yet sure which grade I’d like to teach. I’m kind of leaning toward fourth or fifth, but I think the lower grades would be fun too. (Maybe I could just teach a different grade every year, and that’ll solve my indecisiveness!)
“It’s Mrs. Harkins’s class, and it’s an inclusive class. A few of the kids go out to the resource room.” He handed me back my paperwork. “C’mon, I’ll give you a tour.”
He led me around the school, bringing me into all of their inclusive classrooms and introducing me to the teachers. Everyone greeted me warmly, all genuinely happy to see me. The kids looked up at me with bright, curious eyes. I smiled back at them. (One of them made a face at me at one point. Heh.)
We watched a sixth grade classroom working on decimals and fractions with Skittles. Mr. Valdez knelt down by one student’s desk and helped him with his problem. I started to panic a little, as I’m horrible with decimals and fractions, and if he asked me to help another student, I would be screwed. Fortunately for me, Mr. Valdez worked with the boy for a few minutes until he got it, and then stood up. We left the classroom, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“I always had such a hard time with fractions and decimals,” I said casually as we walked down the hall. “I’m trying to figure out how to explain it to my students.”
“Sometimes, the best teachers are the ones who had trouble because they understand what it’s like to struggle.”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
We came to the gym, where a class was lined up to leave. A line of girls were taking turns at the water fountain, and a line of boys waited for their turn at the gym doors.
“We’re having trouble with Ian*,” one of the teachers said. “He won’t come with us and he almost ran out.”
Mr. Valdez straightened his shoulders and nodded. “I’ll go talk to him.” He signaled for me to wait, and disappeared into the gym.
I stood, watching the girls take turns and then line up by the next set of doors.
“Quickly, quickly,” said their other teacher. “Boys, stay right here. Your eyes are on me.” Some of the kids took their time, while some of them lined up right away. She began counting to five for each kid at the water fountain, sort of turning it into a game. As the boys lined up, some of them dillydallying, she called out, “Boys, I’m not happy.”
Whatever Ian had done had upset the entire order of the class, and now she had to regain control. I listened to her tone of voice, paid attention to what she said. Miraculously, order was restored.
Mr. Valdez came out, holding a little boy wearing very baggy clothes by the hand. The boy’s left ear was pierced with a thin golden hoop, and he stood quietly next to the assistant principal.
“Ian, you want a drink? C’mon, buddy,” he said, leading Ian to the water fountain. The two lines of students began to stroll down the hall, their teacher in the rear. “Okay, that’s enough. Go get in line.” Ian continued to drink. “Ian, they’re leaving you. That’s enough.” Ian drank a little more, than turned from the water fountain. He started to run toward his classmates, stopped, and then started to go down the hall. Mr. Valdez blocked him, caught him gently by the cloth of his baggy shoulder, then led him toward his classmates.
We stopped in another classroom, a resource room, and then came back to my classroom — Mrs. Harkins’s first grade. Mrs. Harkins was absent, and in her place was a substitute teacher. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a guy as a substitute. I gave him a lot of credit.
Mr. Valdez introduced me to the kids, who all said hello. I waved and said hi back.
“Ms. Barone is going to help Mrs. Harkins sometimes,” Mr. Valdez said. “You guys are the best first grade class. They even won a reward,” he told me. They all smiled proudly. “Who can tell Ms. Barone what your reward is?”
Most of their hands shot up. Mr. Valdez looked at me. “I can pick?” I asked. He nodded. My eyes fell on a little girl with big brown eyes. I picked her.
“A party,” she said quietly.
“A party!” I tossed up my hands. “Wow!”
A few kids called out. “An ice cream party,” said one. “And five minutes of recess,” another added.
“Now, you know Mrs. Harkins doesn’t like you guys calling out,” Mr. Valdez reminded them. “What else did you win?” Another kid raised their hand. “Yes?”
“Five minutes of recess,” he said.
“An extra five minutes of recess,” Mr. Valdez said.
“Oh, wow,” I said, hoping I hadn’t caused too much trouble.
A few minutes later, we left the classroom. A couple of adults and a little boy came up to us. Ian was in trouble again. I followed Mr. Valdez to Ian’s classroom, where he took the little boy out of the room. I followed them, watching Mr. Valdez lead Ian to the main office. Ian walked with a cocky swagger — too cocky for a six-year-old. I watched the way his baggy clothes fell around his little frame, and I felt sorry for him. Here was a kid whose parents probably paid him little attention and maybe spoiled him a little too.
“Ian, you’ve gotta get your behavior together. We can’t be doing this every day,” Mr. Valdez said. We entered the main office, and he sat Ian down in a chair in a small adjoining room. “Now, you’re going to sit right here in this chair until I come get you. You understand me?”
“Yes,” little Ian said.
Mr. Valdez came back out into the main office conference room. We talked briefly about the kids’ music, art, and gym classes, and then my schedule. I said goodbye to him and the secretaries, and then went out to the parking lot, feeling buoyant. I had a good feeling about my school.
*Names have been changed for privacy
