A Question of Discipline and Parenting...Sort Of

You may be wondering why this blog has sat deserted for the past two -no, three- months. Well, the answer is a rather embarrassing. You see, I'm having a little discipline problem with my words.

Here it is, plain and simple: my words won't mind me.

How am I dealing with the problem, you ask? Oh, I lecture and they listen, and they nod their heads and promise they understand exactly what I'm telling them, but by the time we've made our peace again, we're too worn out to do anything productive. Tomorrow, we say. Tomorrow, we will work together and write. And then they behave beautifully, as long as we're driving down the road or sitting in the middle of a reading group or some other setting in which WRITING THEM DOWN is impossible. At all those times, they dance to the tune I play, and I nurse great hopes for them.

But get us home after a long day's work, and give us a chance to say something meaningful, and there is no cooperation, or obedience, or patience to be found. They scatter every which way, snickering and mocking, and I am left alone, pouting like a child. I'm supposed to be the one in charge here, right?

What do you do when your words just won't sit when you say sit? When they show off when they should be serving, or they run and hide when you'd like them to sit and properly answer your company?

Am I expecting them to be something they aren't? Am I asking too much of them? Is this the reason they don't listen? Or am I being too lenient, allowing them to run free when they should be shaped and disciplined? Is this why they no longer respect me?

Those of you more experienced in administering discipline, what do you suggest?


[For some crazy reason, when I haven't written for a while, all I can write about is NOT BEING ABLE TO WRITE! Here's hoping that this is a priming of the pump...]

What I've Been Reading While I Haven't Been Blogging

Haven't managed lately to contend with my thoughts enough so as to wrestle them into a blog entry. Journal, yes. Blog, no.  It'll come again, though. (Spring does manage to show up after winter, doesn't it?)

 

In the meantime, I've stumbled across many bloggers truly worth reading. Here are a few I recommend:

 

Genevieve Thul - a mother of young children, doctoral student, current cancer patient, and thoughtful, poetic writer Food for the soul on so many levels.

 

Caroline Ferdinandsen - reflects on life and culture. I usually ponder her posts for days.

 

Jennifer Straw - friend who's teaching in Mozambique, Africa. She paints sensory-rich pictures of her experiences -- makes me want to be there!

 

Abraham Piper - it's amazing what he can say in 22 words. Makes me laugh, think, argue, ponder, and take action - all in twenty-two words or less.

 

In the mood to explore further? Try Christy Tennant (she'll make you think), Desiring God (authored by a variety of people from Bethlehem Baptist Church -- all good at writing valuable, short posts), or Improv Everywhere  (this links to one of my favorite, must-see Improv Everywhere videos -- I Love Lunch - The Musical).

Million Dollar Mercy in Action

The ten students waiting for me down on the story rug were an ugly tangle of accusations and rebuttals, tears and indignation. Only moments earlier, they'd returned from a contentious game of Capture the Flag. Gym class was over, but the factions remained, and the hostility was ear-shattering.

Usually under such circumstances, I would deliver a scathing speech to the whole group, slicing to the root of the squabbles and bullying a confession out of the offenders. Today, I found myself clothed in the gentleness I've been praying for! And for once, I saw the opportunity to apply some earlier learning instead of seeing the interruption of my schedule.

See, today's chapel had centered on Matthew 5:7: "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy." We talked about needing mercy and giving it to others. (Last week, we compared God's million-dollar mercy to our ten-dollar mercy, since receiving His mercy enables us to give it to others.) It's a simple concept; but like a lot of Jesus' directions, it doesn't come naturally. If first graders are representative of humanity in general, wanting your offender's pound of flesh is what's natural. Showing mercy is supernatural.

"It looks like some of you had an opportunity to show mercy to some of your classmates today. If you were honest, do you think you were merciful?" They squirmed, and I waited. Ira was the first to admit to an ungracious attitude, and he apologized to the people he'd yelled at. Immediately, the other tender-hearts of the room followed suit.

Ilsa's apology was simple, but significant: "Peyton, I'm sorry I said that you cheated." I noticed because Peyton's voiciferous denials were the type I see when he IS guilty. Knowing him well, I figured that he had cheated, and that Ilsa knew it.

I carefully mentioned that sometimes we all feel tempted during games, some people to be angry, some to cheat, etc. And I left it at that. While I was thinking about how to deal further, Ilsa got up from her spot on the rug and went to sit beside Peyton, sharing her blanket with him. It was an unmistakeable token of friendship from the most sought-after member of the class, an act of mercy to someone who, with all his huffing and puffing, was far from deserving it right then.

I was floored. I was still trying to convict him. She, on the other hand, was doing exactly what we'd discussed in chapel this morning: giving someone a second chance even when he doesn't deserve it.

Even more stunning was Peyton's response. Under the weight of her kindness, he suddenly broke. "I did cheat," he confessed. "I really wanted to win. I put my foot over the line, and then I lied and said I didn't. I'm sorry, everybody." By now, they were ready to be merciful in return, and friendships were once again restored.

It was a rich moment, one I will remember for a long time...

Two Epiphanies About My Height, Courtesy of First Graders

My brother Nick came to visit my class in October. He's something of a legend in first and second grade (apparently, the teacher talks him up), but when he comes in person, he even manages to exceed expectations, mostly by being BIG. Really big. Way bigger than Miss Djerf. (They are also impressed by his ability to beat Miss Djerf at everything, but that's a post for another time.)

He passed me up when he was eleven or so, so I've had plenty of time to deal with it. My students, however, were concerned by the inequality. Pablo eyed the two of us carefully, and then patted my shoulder comfortingly and said, "He's not THAT much taller than you, Miss Djerf. Just a little bit." (The picture is Pablo showing me how much more I need to grow to catch up.)

Grayson took it one step further. He started grilling Nick: "Nick, you exercised a lot, right?" Nick admitted that yes, lately he's exercised a lot (playing college basketball will do that to you). Grayson turned triumphantly to me and announced, "See, Miss Djerf? All you need to do is exercise, and you can be as tall as Nick!"

I'm not feeling terribly confident about that solution. The way I see it, if being born nine years earlier didn't help, exercising more isn't going to erase a thirteen-inch gap...

It turns out that Grayson is full of helpful observations. Just this week, his face lit up when he saw me standing next to the music teacher. He'd had a revelation: "Miss Djerf! Mrs. O is taller than you!"

I agreed, of course. Lots of people are taller than me. His next comment, however, was a first.

"So THAT'S why she's married and you're not!" She and I chuckled, but he wasn't finished yet. "So THAT'S why SHE'S a grown up and YOU'RE still a kid."

I might just end up in therapy after all.

Letters to Miss D.

Needing to fill a few minutes between lessons this afternoon, I asked my students to write me a letter when they finished their book work. Here's a general sampling:

Ms.D You are a WaNDrfull tech you are the Best techr in the Wlrd thank you For teching me Math Langig AnD BiBl.

But not spelling, apparently.

The distracted nature of the following letter is a blend of her butterfly-like personality and the rising action of the classroom at the time of writing:

To. Miss. Djerf.

I had a fun this Summer! I mist you that handwriting book is silly! I wish this was quieter. How was your Summer? I bett it was good. You should make a roull that people must be quiet exsept if you have a quwestden, coment or anser.

Rocken science lecen!

We should have rules? In a classroom? Are you kidding? But glad you liked the science lesson.

The following is probably my favorite:

Dear Miss D I really like your singing. And you read us great books. you write great. And you draw great

Yep, I'm forming a cult. The cult of the Miss Djerf followers. (Our motto: So we don't exactly listen to what she's saying, but we think she's great...) I think I'll pick this student to be the leader; he can spell.

Sound Bites

It's been an exciting seven days in first and second grade. The energy and noise which constantly exude from the eight boys, as well as the effect of my own directions reverberating throughout the room (rather than being absorbed by the students) are enough to make my ears ring.  In the midst of the hubub, however, I occasionally overhear bits that survive a retelling or two:

Yesterday morning, Grayson paused as he entered the room, threw his arms out, and announced, "Let the show begin!"  For him, life as usual. For me, an insightful moment.

Last Friday, in the middle of a Bible discussion, someone randomly interrupted, "Miss Djerf, what if Ashton was stalking you?" 

Fielding unrelated questions is in my job description. This time, I just laughed and lightly replied, "Oh, Ashton would never stalk me." 

Ashton, seated on my right, added, "Yeah!...Besides, I don't even know how!" 

When the gym teacher arrived in dress clothes instead of sweats today, my class piled on the compliments: "Mr. E, you look tight!" "Oh, Mr. E, you look handsome!"  My favorite was the first grader who said, "Mr. E, if you had sunglasses on, you'd look just like a guard at a party!"  (Is he thinking of a bouncer?)

The Opening of Kid-Quote Season

We had our first and second grade open house yesterday. A few kids came in to try their new desks and check out the new room arrangement (and see me, I guess).

My favorite conversation was with the second grader who happened to be the most quotable first grader in my class last year.

I hugged him, saying, "I missed you this summer!"

He sighed and replied, "I finally threw up."

While it wasn't what I was expecting, I did the best I could to roll with it: "You did? Were you sick?"

"No, I was brushing my teeth," he explained.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah, sort of." He paused, then ended with a flourish: "Miss Djerf, why is throw up always orange?"

I'm so glad he's back!

A Good Question to Ask When You're Singlehandedly Snarfing a Bag of Potato Chips

"So how old do you guys think I'll be when eating like this takes its toll on me?"

- Marissa during a recent road trip (to be fair, I must confess that I was assisting in the potato-chip snarfing)

Why I Feel Three-Fold Guilt Over the Passing of Another Brief Minnesota Summer

1. Yet again, I didn't make good on my resolve to be a better Twins fan.

2. My inner cheapskate won out over my inner State-Fair-goer.

3. During the only viable months for acquiring a natural tan, I failed to be outside long enough to get one.

I'm a terrible Minnesotan!