Love the quote from RIta....she was such an amazing woman..that left a ripple affect of GREATNESS! We have all had "that one kid" that in hindsight we would have handled the situation much differently...if only we had known the circumstances. We wouldn't have been so quick to judge...so sharp with our tone...so short with our patience...if we had "only known" what that kid/family was going through. Well the lesson in that is...we may NEVER know what that child is going (or gone) through...but if we treat each student daily with respect, dignity, and always keep an "eye" for what they are doing right vs what is going wrong...then we are "doing right by kids". We must continue communicating the high expectations we have here at RMS with our kids and parents. A very wise woman, once asked me...would you want Sydney Kate (who is my oldest daughter) in "that" teachers classroom...why or why not? Have you ever thought about it? Would you want a teacher to talk to YOUR kid "just like you do?" If the answer is no...then NOW is the time to change it...you are hurting the kids. If the answer is yes...then you are a better person than me...I made plenty of mistakes like this when I was teaching and even when I became an AP. My tone would get the best of me, until I was shown another way to lead. It's not the yelling and condemeing that makes kids (and adults for that matter) follow the rules. It's actually the relationships you build with those people...the trust that forms..that's the "golden ticket". People (and especially kids)don't like to disappoint people that love and care about...and this is very important with our students. So tommorow...find that kid that you have almost lost hope in...and rekindle that flame in him/her...and most importantly be their CHAMPION...and NEVER, EVER, EVER GIVE UP on them!. Thanks for all you are doing..we have almost made it through the first 9 weeks....keep paddling friends...the current is strong! Have a marvelous Monday and enjoy this story that I borrowed from a good friend...hope it speaks to you as much as it spoke to me! :)
HP
Just Trying to Get Through...
Ryan Kennelly. There is always a reason why you remember their names, even when you've known thousands, tens of thousands of names. Ryan Kennelly. Football player. Second row. Third seat back. This is all I knew about him after the first six weeks of school.
I didn't know the color of his eyes. I didn't know that he loved to read. I didn't know his mom wasn't around. I just knew if he didn't care enough about language arts to stay awake in class, then I didn't care enough to wake him up. He had an F at midterm. That happens when you never complete any work. The afternoon after midterm reports went home, I flicked off my classroom light and turned to find a man standing in the classroom doorway. Ryan Kennelly stood behind him, his head down.
"Mrs. Ayres? I'm Ryan's dad." The work boots on his feet,along with his jeans and shirt were coated with dirt that can only come from hard work. He shook my hand. His hands were rough, but his fingernails were clean. "I wanted to talk to you about Ryan's grade." His eyes were kind. He reached behind him and put his hand behind Ryan's shoulder, gently moving him up to the conversation. I noticed Ryan's eyes were the same warm brown as his dad's.
He wasn't the parent I expected for a kid who sleeps in class. I stumbled through explaining that Ryan didn't complete any work, so he was failing. Mr. Kennelly nodded. He squeezed Ryan's shoulder and looked me straight in the eyes. "Why didn't you call me?" I didn't know five words could be filled with such disappointment. I couldn't answer him because the truth was so wrong:I didn't think you'd care. He spoke again, "Now he can't play football. It's the one good thing in his life right now.We're just trying to get through. If I knew, then I would have helped Ryan get his work completed. I just didn't know."
My stomach twisted, knowing the mistake I made was because of my own misjudgment. "I'm sorry," I said. Then I gave him the work which Ryan brought to school complete the following day. I went to the principal and admitted my mistake, showing Ryan's current grade now that the work was turned in. I wrote a letter, asking for Ryan to be allowed to return to the football team.
It's a mistake I didn't make again.We're just trying to get through, Mr. Kennelly's voice haunts me from time to time. Now, fifteen years later and a mother to four, I know what he meant.
Tonight I had a meeting with one of my kids' teachers. She's a first year teacher and, like every first year teacher, is making some mistakes. I'm on the other side of the table this time. I hope my eyes are kind. For the entire meeting I can't shake Ryan Kennelly from my mind.
I extend grace.
"Tomorrow is a new day," I said. "Let's just be glad we're not brain surgeons. They don't usually get a second chance." The new teacher smiles, even laughs a little.It's going to be okay.This is education at its finest -- learning and growing from our mistakes.
I didn't know the color of his eyes. I didn't know that he loved to read. I didn't know his mom wasn't around. I just knew if he didn't care enough about language arts to stay awake in class, then I didn't care enough to wake him up. He had an F at midterm. That happens when you never complete any work. The afternoon after midterm reports went home, I flicked off my classroom light and turned to find a man standing in the classroom doorway. Ryan Kennelly stood behind him, his head down.
"Mrs. Ayres? I'm Ryan's dad." The work boots on his feet,along with his jeans and shirt were coated with dirt that can only come from hard work. He shook my hand. His hands were rough, but his fingernails were clean. "I wanted to talk to you about Ryan's grade." His eyes were kind. He reached behind him and put his hand behind Ryan's shoulder, gently moving him up to the conversation. I noticed Ryan's eyes were the same warm brown as his dad's.
He wasn't the parent I expected for a kid who sleeps in class. I stumbled through explaining that Ryan didn't complete any work, so he was failing. Mr. Kennelly nodded. He squeezed Ryan's shoulder and looked me straight in the eyes. "Why didn't you call me?" I didn't know five words could be filled with such disappointment. I couldn't answer him because the truth was so wrong:I didn't think you'd care. He spoke again, "Now he can't play football. It's the one good thing in his life right now.We're just trying to get through. If I knew, then I would have helped Ryan get his work completed. I just didn't know."
My stomach twisted, knowing the mistake I made was because of my own misjudgment. "I'm sorry," I said. Then I gave him the work which Ryan brought to school complete the following day. I went to the principal and admitted my mistake, showing Ryan's current grade now that the work was turned in. I wrote a letter, asking for Ryan to be allowed to return to the football team.
It's a mistake I didn't make again.We're just trying to get through, Mr. Kennelly's voice haunts me from time to time. Now, fifteen years later and a mother to four, I know what he meant.
Tonight I had a meeting with one of my kids' teachers. She's a first year teacher and, like every first year teacher, is making some mistakes. I'm on the other side of the table this time. I hope my eyes are kind. For the entire meeting I can't shake Ryan Kennelly from my mind.
I extend grace.
"Tomorrow is a new day," I said. "Let's just be glad we're not brain surgeons. They don't usually get a second chance." The new teacher smiles, even laughs a little.It's going to be okay.This is education at its finest -- learning and growing from our mistakes.
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