Expectations

Expectations

         Sitting at my desk, the lights off, yet the room vibrant, I sit waiting the arrival of twenty-eight anxious second graders. I have just finished putting the last touches on the bulletin board welcoming them. Nametags are carefully printed and on their desks and I think I have the pronunciation of all of their names down.

I contemplate the day’s lesson. Have I planned enough to get us through the morning? Are the students going to like what I have planned?

When I was in elementary school my teachers were all very strict. I was so afraid of being punished, I never did anything wrong. Will my students feel the same way? Do I need to be a strict teacher? I really don’t want the students to be afraid of me. Maybe I shouldn’t come on too strong today.

Today is the first day of the rest of my career. Twenty-eight seven year olds will walk through the door at 8:45 and expect me to be the best teacher they have ever had. Will I fulfill their expectations? My expectations are for them to be ready to learn math, science, reading, and writing. The expectations I have for myself are to be prepared and ready to make learning a positive experience for everyone.



         “Wake up Tommy, it’s a school day.” Mom calls out from his bedroom door. “I have breakfast waiting for you. I made your favorite, blueberry pancakes.”

Tommy gets out of bed slowly, even though he has been awake for at least an hour. Butterflies are twirling in his stomach and he has a nervous feeling he has never felt before.

Today is going to be his first day at Westhaven Elementary. He hasn’t been at one school for any more than one year. His mom says this year he will have a new start. Last week she enrolled him and said, “ You will meet new friends here and have a better chance to learn.” Tommy was not sure what was going to be different, but he was happy to see there was great playground right outside the school.



         “Applesauce for breakfast, applesauce for breakfast?” screams Samantha as she barrels down the stairs. Her mother gives her a surprised look. Dressed in pink tights, black shorts, and a bright green shirt, on backwards. She looks as if she should be in a rock band. Not wanting to start a fight so early in the morning she quickly suppresses her surprise and says nothing.

“Applesauce for breakfast, applesauce for breakfast!” Samantha says a bit quieter, yet very insistent.

Samantha’s mother has the breakfast table set; the applesauce is already. She is carefully managing the morning so she doesn’t cause her daughter to have any meltdowns just before her first day of second grade. She figures if she gives Sam everything she wants this morning she will start her day on a positive note.



         I am ready. Finishing my cinnamon latte I turn on the lights and notice the sound of students in the hallway. The bell isn’t going to ring for a few minutes. I turn and start pacing. With my back to the door I can sense the presence of someone. I turn to see a mother with her daughter, a cute young girl, in pigtails and a very colorful outfit, which seems to be on backwards. “Hi, this is Samantha. I thought it would be a good idea to have her meet you before the other children arrive. Samantha has autism and does much better if she knows what to expect before I leave her.”

“Hi Samantha,” I say in my most caring voice. I am glad you are here today. “Let’s go meet the rest of our class,” I say as the bell rings just above us. Samantha covers her ears and lets out a scream. A quick glance at her mother gives me enough information to see she will handle her and I go off down the hall to meet a line of anxious second graders.

“Boys and girls hang up your backpacks and meet me by the rocking chair,” I tell the children confidently. A bustle of activity takes place as friends try to squeeze in together on the carpet. The last two to sit are Samantha and a frail young boy I later find out is Tommy.

One at a time I have the students tell me their name and something they want to share about themselves. I learn that most of my students have a favorite video game, a dog, a brother, a sister or have a friend in our class. When it is Tommy’s turn he gives the entire class a summary of what happened at his last school. He brought a gun to school for show and tell and told the class, “I got to stay home for a lot of days.” Wow, this was news to me. Didn’t it occur to anyone to fill me in on this? This will certainly become a topic of conversation when the children go home and tell their parents this one. I quickly go to the next student and then glance over to see Samantha sitting off to the side curled up, rocking, and humming.

The morning quickly ended. All of the children finished their projects, even Samantha, who struggled with the texture of the glue when it got on her hands.

I will no longer worry about the lessons I have planned. My new priority is going to be building a safe and caring community within our classroom.