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Speical Poems...
The Miracle of the Beginning Reader
I wriggle and I jiggle
And I rock upon my chair
I wriggle my loose tooth,
And I twirl a strand of hair.
I chew on several fingers
And I sometimes suck my thumb.
I tap the reading table
Like I'd play upon a drum.
I kick my foot with rhythm,
Lose the place where I should look.
I rub my nose and clear my throat,
And sometimes drop my book.
I look outside the window
And I look down at the floor.
I pay very close attention
When someone's at the door.
I close my eyes and rest my head;
My teacher's heart must bleed.
But in spite of all this
I'm learning how to read!
Independent Strategies
When I get stuck on a word in a book,
There are lots of things I can do.
I can do them all, please, by myself;
I don't need help from you.
I can look at the picture to get a hint.
Or think what the story's about.
I can "get my mouth ready" to say the first letter.
A kind of "sounding out."
I can chop up the words into smaller parts,
Like on or ing or ly,
Or find smaller words in compound words
Like raincoat and bumblebee.
I can think of a word that makes sense in that place,
Guess or say "blank" and read on
Until the sentence has reached its end,
Then go back and try these on:
"Does it make sense?"
"Can we say it that way?"
"Does it look right to me?"
Chances are the right word will pop out like the sun
In my own mind, can't you see?
If I've thought of and tried out most of these things
And I still do not know what to do,
Then I may turn around and ask
For some help to get me through.
You ask, "What's in my backpack?"
You ask, “What’s in my backpack?”
When I come home each day.
I wonder what you hope is there.
If it’s empty, is that okay?
I tell you about my busy day,
How the teacher watches over me.
We sing, we laugh, we share, we learn-
That’s the way it’s supposed to be.
You ask, “What’s in my backpack?”
I say, “Today it’s empty.”
I see the disappointment
As you look down at me.
School is much more than “things”
That you can see and touch.
It’s all of my life lessons,
And that means so very much.
For if you really want to know
What I do each day,
It won’t be on a paper;
You’ll know by what I say.
Please don’t look so unhappy
When you open the zipper wide.
What you are looking for today
Is all on my inside.
Ask me about my hands and ears,
My nose and my eyes.
Ask me what we talked about,
And if I remember why.
Each day we do so many things,
So many books to read.
Sure is nice my teacher knows
Exactly what we need.
That backpack on my back today
Carries back and forth my stuff.
If you want to know what I learned,
Listening to me will be enough.
My teacher wants to plant a seed,
Get my “love of learning” to sprout.
She wants it to last a lifetime-
That’s what school is all about.
It’s in my head and in my heart
That learning will take place.
Childhood should be a journey...
Don’t look at it as a race.”
Teachers get paid too much...
I'm fed up with teachers and their hefty salary schedules. What we need here is a little perspective.
If I had my way, I'd pay these teachers myself-I'd pay them baby-sitting wages. That's right-instead of paying these outrageous taxes; I'd give them $3 an hour out of my own pocket. And I'm only going to pay them for five hours, not lunch or coffee breaks. That would be $15.00 a day. Each parent should pay $15 a day for these teachers to baby sit their child. Even if they have more than one child, it's still a lot cheaper than private daycare.
Now, how many children do they teach every day-maybe 20? That's $15x20=$300 a day. But remember they only work 180 days a year! I'm not going to pay them for vacations! $300x180=$54,000. (Just a minute, I think my calculator needs new batteries.)
I know you teachers will say-What about those who have 10 years experience and a Master's Degree? Well, maybe (to be fair) they could get the minimum wage, and instead of just babysitting, they could read the kids a story. We could round that off to about $5 an hour, times five hours, times 20 children. That's $500 a day times 180 days. That's $90,000....HUH?
Wait a minute; let's get a little perspective here. Babysitting wages are too good for these teachers. Has anyone seen a salary schedule around here?
~Anonymous
The Teacher
There was a story many years ago of an elementary teacher. Her name was Mrs. Thompson. And as she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same.
But that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard. Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.
At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.
Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners, he is a joy to be around."
His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."
His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."
Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class."
By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist.
Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to."
After the children left she cried for at least an hour.
On that very day, she quit teaching reading, and writing, and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children.
Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her "teacher's pets."
A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life. Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.
Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had in his whole life.
Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer --the letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.
The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he'd met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the place at the wedding that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what?
She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.
They hugged each, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."
Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."
~Anonymous
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