Room 103

A while ago I wrote about getting involved with Donors Choose and my teacher friend, Mr. Curry. Since that time at the beginning of the school year I have kept in touch with him mostly via e-mail. We’re in the throes of teaching and doing our respective jobs, so it’s harder and harder to find time to see how things are going. My busy time of year began as soon as we returned from Christmas break, but I’ve often wondered how Mr. Curry’s students were doing with the iPods and iPads he asked for through Donors Choose.

At the middle school level we visit elementary schools to register the incoming 5th graders. Since most schools are bound by regional areas this makes it quite a job for some deans (or assistant principals, in my case) to visit them all. Last week the other schools and I met to determine how we were going to go about visiting them all and, in the end, we help each other register for their schools to make the task more manageable. Since I work at a magnet school that draws from all 24 elementary schools that benefit doesn’t include me. It’s imperative that I actually visit them all. For this, I may speak to 10 kids who I need to register and talk about life at the middle school. For others, I may speak to only one. Ours is a school of choice that targets goals within technology and every single one of my students has a district-issued MacBook. When I mention this to the 5th graders during my speech there is an instant smile that creeps across their lips. They wanted this and that’s why they applied.

It actually makes for some animosity within our district because it’s so competitive and a lottery drawing determines who gets into the school. This is quite a change coming from some of the other schools I’ve been at where it’s a neighborhood school and an issue with which I wrestle constantly. As an educator, I wish this kind of building and culture for all students. Even so, I watch legislation closely and am currently keeping an eye out for the changes that will inevitably come for all of us.

As I surveyed the list of schools that I must visit I noticed a conflict with another one and our administrative staff simply takes on the extra duty of registering those 5th graders. When I saw Mr. Curry’s school on the list I jumped at the chance to visit that one so that I could specifically visit his classroom. (If you remember, he teaches a cross-categorical special education classroom for multiple grade levels. The man is a saint and a phenomenal instructor.)

When I got to his room his students were just taking a bathroom break so I waited until they were done. He made me blush when he told them, “Remember when I said someone helped us get our new iPods? This is her!” and luckily they weren’t at all impressed with that. I loved helping and I loved asking readers to vote on his project and help him out with this. You did that, not me. All I did was act as a neon sign. Hey, there. Vote on this. Do this for someone who wants something great for his students. What I really have is just a platform and I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Once they were settled in the room he told them he was rearranging his lessons so they could show me what they use their iPod touch (touches?) for and asked them to meet me at Town Hall. “Uh, what and where is Town Hall?” I wondered to myself. One student pointed to the carpeted area at the front of the classroom for me so I went there and wiggled out of my heels so I could sit cross-legged on the carpet while he handed out 5 iPods to them.

Cross-cat (as we shorten it in education) is a truly specialized classroom. Mr. Curry has everyone on the spectrum and it’s a very small class so he can get a lot done with each of them and help them reach the goals set out in their IEPs (Individualized Education Plans). One girl hummed the entire time I was there and she refused to speak at all. I wondered just exactly what she could say, but I wouldn’t be around long enough to learn that. Another boy repeated everything three times even though I understood him the first. “I’m doing a math game for adding. I‘m doing a math game for adding. I‘m doing a math game for adding.”

“Your fingers really know how to work that, don’t they?” I asked one little girl. She nodded her reply so I leaned in closer and let her show me that she knew how to add 2 plus 4. I don’t know if it was a giant feat or not, but she this was a moment in which I couldn’t be more proud. Nor was it a moment that I didn’t bite the hell out of my lip so I wouldn’t cry in front of them.

They played on them for awhile before I told them I had to go and I tried to slip quietly out of the classroom. After all, Mr. Curry modified his lessons just because I showed up unexpectedly and for that I’m grateful. It takes a master teacher to be able to do that and get back to what was already planned for the day.

One girl, wearing a purple shirt, was really talkative as she went through her math app to add different fruits. 4 bananas plus 2 grapes equals 6 pieces of fruit. (And then the app claps and throws confetti to show her she got it right.) Most of her time was spent saying, “Look at this.” and I kept leaning over in the circle that was sitting on the floor to see what she was doing. I smiled and clapped right along with it and that encouraged her to keep going. She didn’t want me to leave and I wondered if she thought that she would have to return the iPod to the charger at the back of the room if I did. As I left, though, she leaned over to me and whispered, “Thank you.” and I still don’t know if she meant for me observing her using the technology or because I helped her get the technology.

It didn’t matter. It still doesn’t. And there’s no reason she needs to know that I wept all the way back to my own school. That right there is the power of the Internet.

So, thank you. I wish you could have been there, too.