School's Out! (Again)

School's out, and I have made it through my five weeks as the teacher for the middle schoolers at the alternative school. There were lots of ups and downs, tears, and frustrations on my part, but we had some good moments, too. My goal was to get them back in school, and for ten kids, that is going to happen. 

I began with thirteen kiddos, expelled two due to gross violations of the rules for being in the program, and a third left of his own volition. Of the remaining ten kids, I have hopes for them to be successful next year, but it is up to them. 

One of the very best parts of coming out of retirement is that I had a former student of mine working alongside of me.

I was Madeline's teacher for 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade. She is now studying to be a teacher at Purdue University, and so when they told me I could have a classroom assistant, I invited her to apply for the job.  What a treat to work with her! And she is going to be an excellent teacher herself.

It was a proud teacher moment for me when Madeline taught the students origami - something that I introduced her to when she was in my classroom.

The students were absolutely riveted and for many of them, it was an opportunity to be successful at something in school.

Some even took the origami to different levels, experimenting with various sizes of paper as well as making other shapes besides the cranes that Madeline taught them.

The very last day of school was the roughest we'd had in the class for at least a week. The kids were DONE with school and their behavior reflected that. It was a constant juggle all day long, and my patience was stretched as thin as I think it has ever been stretched before. One student became so angry at me that I was actually afraid that he was going to hit me at one point as he raised his voice and yelled at me. (I called the principal for help at that point.)

 My desk and things, all packed up for the end of the school year.

As difficult as those five weeks were, I did come to love the students. There were moments when the tough outer exteriors dropped for a few moments and I could see them as simply kids. We even had some laughter - the morning class had a running joke about always being hungry (none of them ate breakfast and so would be hungry an hour into the school day.) It became a fun joke of them begging for food or threatening to use their phones to order something and have it delivered to school. One boy even googled, "What to do when your teacher is starving you" and showed it to me, and we laughed and laughed over that one. So some good moments, some glimmers of who they could be if they would take the chance being offered them and change their focus to better things.

I wrapped up the last day by packing and closing down the classroom after the students left. I am exhausted and drained, and my emotions are mixed. Did I really make any kind of difference in those kids' lives? There was some progress - ten students will be back in school this August, their language was much improved, and they ended the school year far more respectful than they were five weeks ago when I arrived. 

Tough as it was, I'm glad that I took the position. I hope that perhaps the kids saw a different side of life and know that I cared about them. My fingers are crossed that they will find better success next year than they did this one.

It's now up to them.

Pat Syoen - Obituary

(The previous post has this same information but it did not format well so I am reposting it in a different format.)

I taught at Yankee Ridge after this woman retired, but she subbed frequently in the building and so I got to know her. The obituary describes her personality well, especially the words in the first paragraph that are in parenthesis.

She did not like boys and often misinterpreted their actions. (I hope it was misinterpretation.) She claimed once, after subbing in my class, that one of my African American boys had deliberately bumped into her, causing him to receive an in-school suspension.

I wasn't there and did not see it happen, but after talking to him, I do not think he deserved the suspension.

URBANA — Our aunt, sister, sister-in-law, friend Pat Syoen, was a wild and crazy woman. She led her life on her own terms, and she was both loved (and a little bit feared!) by those who knew her. 

Starting her life as the youngest child of Angie and George Syoen, with her sisters Mary Catherine and Barbara, she lived a childhood of not much money but lots of love in Depression-era Chicago. As a young woman, she joined the convent, becoming a Sister of Providence of St. Mary-of-the-Woods. Even then, she combined a deep love of God with a certain, shall we say, irreverence towards the rules involved in the pursuit of that goal. She was educated to become an elementary school teacher, which served her well all her life.

fter leaving the convent, she relocated to Urbana, where her experience, skills and unspoken but undeniable love of the children she served led her to years of teaching third grade in Urbana’s public schools. Yankee Ridge Elementary was her home, its students her beneficiaries.

But describing her life as a single woman who taught third grade all her life is only part of who she was. She was also fiercely devoted towards the goals of social justice. Who else marks her golden years bussing down to the School of the Americas to take part in peaceful protest outside its gates?

She chose her church membership dependent on its being a welcoming community in all senses of the word. The last years of her life she had a close and involved relationship with McKinley Presbyterian, enjoying both its warm, eclectic membership and its adherence to the tenets of love and inclusion that she so highly valued.

Finally, Pat had a wicked sense of humor. Fifteen years before she died, she wrote a letter to her nieces and nephews outlining her wishes for the end of her life. Stating that she didn’t want a memorial service, she said, “If you want to sit around and talk about what a nice person I was, that’s okay. Want refreshments? Buy them yourselves. Don’t charge me or my estate!”

She was a fount of stories about her years in the convent, her many cruises, most with her dear friend Diane Hines, and her favorite (or were they most challenging?) students over the years.

She was loved and respected. She is survived by her sister, Mary Catherine Hustoles; brother-in-law, Edward Hustoles; nephews, Tom Hustoles, wife Carol, and Paul Hustoles, wife Mary Jo; nieces, Mary Beth Hustoles and Barbara Hustoles, husband Don Smith; the community at McKinley Presbyterian, especially close friends, Associate Pastor the Rev. Keith Harris and his wife Amy (Amy’s son Gabe was unofficially declared Pat’s adopted grandson), and countless grandnieces and nephews and former third graders.

We are more in having known her, less in her passing. Pat didn’t leave a request for a charity to accept donations in her name. You choose. Someplace welcoming and inclusive.

“Lord I tried to, to see it through

But it was too much for me.

So now I`m coming home to you.

Yes, I feel like going home.”

— Charlie Rich (whose love child she would have had in a heartbeat)

Pat Syoen - Obituary

I taught at Yankee Ridge after this woman retired, but she subbed frequently in the building and so I got to know her. The obituary describes her personality well, especially the words in the first paragraph that are in parenthesis.

She did not like boys and often misinterpreted their actions. (I hope it was misinterpretation.) She claimed once, after subbing in my class, that one of my African American boys had deliberately bumped into her, causing him to receive an in-school suspension.

I wasn't there and did not see it happen, but after talking to him, I do not think he deserved the suspension.

URBANA — Our aunt, sister, sister-in-law, friend Pat Syoen, was a wild and crazy woman. She led her life on her own terms, and she was both loved (and a little bit feared!) by those who knew her. 

Starting her life as the youngest child of Angie and George Syoen, with her sisters Mary Catherine and Barbara, she lived a childhood of not much money but lots of love in Depression-era Chicago. As a young woman, she joined the convent, becoming a Sister of Providence of St. Mary-of-the-Woods. Even then, she combined a deep love of God with a certain, shall we say, irreverence towards the rules involved in the pursuit of that goal. She was educated to become an elementary school teacher, which served her well all her life.

fter leaving the convent, she relocated to Urbana, where her experience, skills and unspoken but undeniable love of the children she served led her to years of teaching third grade in Urbana’s public schools. Yankee Ridge Elementary was her home, its students her beneficiaries.

But describing her life as a single woman who taught third grade all her life is only part of who she was. She was also fiercely devoted towards the goals of social justice. Who else marks her golden years bussing down to the School of the Americas to take part in peaceful protest outside its gates?

She chose her church membership dependent on its being a welcoming community in all senses of the word. The last years of her life she had a close and involved relationship with McKinley Presbyterian, enjoying both its warm, eclectic membership and its adherence to the tenets of love and inclusion that she so highly valued.

Finally, Pat had a wicked sense of humor. Fifteen years before she died, she wrote a letter to her nieces and nephews outlining her wishes for the end of her life. Stating that she didn’t want a memorial service, she said, “If you want to sit around and talk about what a nice person I was, that’s okay. Want refreshments? Buy them yourselves. Don’t charge me or my estate!”

She was a fount of stories about her years in the convent, her many cruises, most with her dear friend Diane Hines, and her favorite (or were they most challenging?) students over the years.

She was loved and respected. She is survived by her sister, Mary Catherine Hustoles; brother-in-law, Edward Hustoles; nephews, Tom Hustoles, wife Carol, and Paul Hustoles, wife Mary Jo; nieces, Mary Beth Hustoles and Barbara Hustoles, husband Don Smith; the community at McKinley Presbyterian, especially close friends, Associate Pastor the Rev. Keith Harris and his wife Amy (Amy’s son Gabe was unofficially declared Pat’s adopted grandson), and countless grandnieces and nephews and former third graders.

We are more in having known her, less in her passing. Pat didn’t leave a request for a charity to accept donations in her name. You choose. Someplace welcoming and inclusive.

“Lord I tried to, to see it through

But it was too much for me.

So now I`m coming home to you.

Yes, I feel like going home.”

— Charlie Rich (whose love child she would have had in a heartbeat)

Carrots and Cats (Herding, that Is)

Ever heard the term, "herding cats?" If you think about it, it would definitely not be an easy thing to do. Neither, I discovered, is getting five horses and three kids under five to pose for a picture.

We were having a nice visit and feeding the horses some carrots when I noticed that the herd was lined up perfectly at the fence. Photo op!

"Quick!" I called to my son Curt, "I'll line up with the kids in front of the fence and we'll get a great photo of all the horses, the kids, and me at once!"

Well, things began to fall apart almost immediately. Abby pinned her ears at Sultanna and Hokey and warned them off while Trouble discovered a yummy tidbit on the ground.

The movement of the horses behind us was distracting to Lukie who kept turning away from the camera to see what they were doing. 

Curt was able to snap this one which is okay except for Lukie's tears and Ian's face. (And that no horse's face can be seen except for Hokey's)...

 ... and this one which isn't the greatest but you can at least see the humans' faces.

Then, Abby spied the bag of carrots I had set on the ground, thinking we'd snap a quick picture before she or anyone else noticed them. Hah! Who was I kidding!

She snagged them so quickly and had them on her side of the fence before I could put Lukie down and stop her. The carrots spilled out of the bag, and the horses began milling about, each trying to get one of the carrots off the ground.

Even more alarming, Abby was chewing the bag along with the carrot that had been left inside it, and the bag was slowly disappearing into her mouth as she chewed.

I ducked under the rail, dodging the arguing horses as I sped across the paddock, and was able to pull the bag out of her mouth before she ingested the entire thing.

This is what was left of it - Ian looks pretty disgusted, doesn't he? But I am so glad I got it before she swallowed it and colicked or it became lodged in her digestive tract.

No more thoughts of photo ops for me that involve five horses and preschoolers, that's for sure!

Saturday Fun at the Barn

Our son, Curt, called Saturday mid morning just as I was preparing to leave for the barn. He asked if he could drop by as he had something he wanted me to have. I'm so glad he caught me!

 Mother's Day flowers! Hand delivered by these cuties.

Since I was headed out to the barn already, I invited them to come with me. Pony Pal Mila reminded me that horses and unicorns were her favorite animals and showed me the unicorn she had with her in the car.

The herd was way out in the far corner of the field, and came thundering up when they heard me whistle.

 That made Lukie, Ian, and Mila feel a little scared and hesitant about handing out the carrots.

Even Mila, who is usually right up at the fence, hung back and needed me to help her feed Abby a carrot.

 Yes, I do kiss horses. 

We stayed and visited with the horses for a while, and then walked over to the new barn to look at Tim's collection of carriages, wagons, and vehicles that are housed in it.

 Ian and Mila were fascinated by the "reindeer" antlers and skulls that Tim has collected and hung on one of the rafters.

"The jail wagon! It's the jail wagon!" This one is always their favorite. They love looking inside at the jail cell.

It is a very unusual vehicle, probably the most unusual one in Tim's collection. (Although the mail delivery wagon is pretty different, too.)

Not only does Tim have a sleigh in his vehicle collection and "reindeer" antlers hanging overhead, Ian discovered some sleigh bells in a carriage. He is now convinced that Santa is storing his sleigh and bells at Tim's until next Christmas. (I didn't ask what he made of the skulls and antlers!)

 Pretending to drive the farm tractor.

Pony Pal Mila thought that the indoor arena was one large sandbox, and she enjoyed playing in it...

 ... while her brother kicked the horse ball around the arena and chased after it for quite some time. (How he could run for so long in that soft footing is beyond me!)

Lukie enjoyed going into the tackroom and getting to sit in Tim's pony saddle. He tried to rock in it like he does his wooden rocking horse!

Not only does Tim collect antique horse drawn vehicles, he buys antique tack, too. Ian tried out a vintage 1930s/1940s western saddle.

We finished up before lunch, and despite the earliness of the day, all three kids needed to be popped into a bathtub. But that's barn life for you, and an extra bath for the day was certainly worth it for the fun that we had.

Ups and Downs at SOAR

I just completed four of the five weeks I agreed to spend as the teacher at SOAR, TSC's school for middle schoolers who have been expelled from their regular classrooms. Things are improving with the kids; I think it has been almost two weeks since I heard the f-word or was called a b----.  That's progress, for sure!

I have worked really hard to connect with the kids - I could tell from the very beginning that my contribution to their lives would not be an academic one, it would be more on the level of helping them see that there are adults who like them, who care about their welfare, and are doing their best to help them achieve. (We have gotten some academics done, too.)

I started trying to make those connections immediately. Knowing that I had just taken on a difficult teaching assignment, Kathy Nimmer offered to come for a visit with the duo purpose of getting to know the middle school and high school programs. They are under her jurisdiction as she is TSC's mentor of new faculty, and she had never visited the program before.

I was not sure what to expect as it was only my second week in the classroom, but the morning class was riveted for an hour and a half! And afterward Alexia asked me for more information about guide dogs and their training!

Another way I made connections with the kids was to invite a girl to bring in her beloved guinea pigs.

 This is Salt who enjoyed hanging out on the kids' desks.

 Ginger was a cuddler and would lie on his back in your arms and go to sleep.

KR, a student who I had known (and bumped heads with) at Hershey has a very hot temper and is very mouthy. He surprised me by making me a picture of a seal to hang on the wall by my desk.

I don't think that these kids have gotten many compliments in their lives from teachers. It almost made me cry when I saw that JB had pinned a post-it note from me up on his work station.

Two kids have been expelled - MW (an 8th grader who has had three expulsions already and had been out for a few days and in a residential facility for attempted suicide ) was expelled for showing a sex video on her phone during class. That same day I also caught her cheating by looking up answer keys online. When I called her grandmother and asked her to come pick up MW, she came in with her belt drawn! She stalked into the room saying, "You're getting a whipping, either here or at home. I'm going to go to jail for it, but you're getting it! An extended yelling match between the two ensued. Needless to say, I cleared the class and with the help of two other adults in the building, finally got things settled down. I called Child Protection Services right away.

Then, JG, a sixth grader with a white hot temper (a characteristic of almost all these kids) became angry with me because I insisted he do his work instead of playing games on the computer. He followed the pattern of defiance, disrespect, and arguing that I had seen from him over the past week but this time it escalated well beyond those incidents. I finally told him that enough was enough and that he needed to stop the disrespect NOW. He did not stop, and so he was expelled.

I lost another student, but not to expulsion. NM was a 7th grader who had serious emotional issues and a lot of anger. One day he became so upset about having to do schoolwork that he made the comment that he was worthless and going to take his pink pen and kill himself. He ended up being admitted to a residential center for counseling and treatment.

Ten students of the original thirteen are still hanging in there and I am hopeful that all will make it through to the end and be able to return to their home schools next August. As for me, I have been asked to come out of retirement permanently and teach this class full time, but I have declined. The emotional drain on me has been tremendous, and I have lost sleep over these kids, worrying about them and how to reach them.

One more week to go. I hope that we ALL make it through!

A Breakthrough

Three weeks ago I took over the middle school classroom at my school corporation's alternative school. There are thirteen 6th, 7th, and 8th graders in the class, all of whom have been expelled from their regular schools and are in a program designed to help them return to school next fall. That is, if they can make it through this program - they get three chances, and then they are out permanently and cannot re-enter school again. Two have already been unable to comply with the school's rules and been permanently expelled.

These are the toughest of the tough kids in the area, and it has been rough to say the least. I've had to deal with things that are unimaginable in a general education classroom. I've been called awful names, I've had to call Child Protection Services on behalf of a child, and I've seen the affects of drug abuse. It has been eye opening to say the least.

But in the end, they're still kids. And some of them have begun letting down their guards and are beginning to learn and be civil, to each other and to me.

One of the students designed a mascot for our class and gave me a copy of her drawing.

I won't make much of a difference in their lives in just five short weeks. But my hope has been that they will know that I care about them and am trying to help them. My efforts have not seemed to have had any effect. Until yesterday afternoon.

An 8th grade girl approached me as the dismissal bell rang. "You know," she said offhandedly, "I sort of like you. You're nice."

I have gone home in tears more than once the past three weeks. This time, the tears were tears of happiness. We had a breakthrough.