The time I cussed in class I was amazed at myself. I had gotten mad at the fact that the majority of kids were not putting their best effort forward and I said (I thought in my mind.)

"Shit. Don't you believe in hard work. It feels good to work hard."

I left my kids and walked to the principal's office which was about 500 feet away and I told Mr. Bibby that I had cussed and why and what I said. He looked at me and told me to return to class. He did not counsel me because I had been streaming tears when I got to his office.

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Mr. Bibby held teacher meetings once a week, and he'd talk in general about what he wanted us to do, or not do. Each time he talked about what he did not want his teachers to do he used a specific behavior, "Singing in the hallway with the class." But, I'd be full of guilt if it was something I'd done and I'd raise my hand and mutter to Melanie, my kindergarten teacher pal, that it had been me and my class. Melanie would fuss at me to put my hand down that everyone knew it was me, but I didn't have to turn myself in.

Later that week I went to talk to Mr. Bibby. He said that I was a very effective fourth grade teacher who climbed out onto branches and that I kept sawing while I was out on a limb. I thanked him and the next meeting even if I realized that my natural enthusiasim caused me to do another silly singing as we walked to class I just kept my mouth closed and did not raise my hand.

To this day: I make so few errors that when I make one I still feel like telling on myself, but I just sit quietly in our monthly meetings. Thanks to Coach Bibby.

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My fourth graders had collected 120 2-liter bottles to show how much blood is pumped through our heart per minute. I got a can of dry temper paint- red. I also got a straw. I had my kids fill each bottle up with water and I'd inhale some red paint in the straw and then I'd blow into it and the water would turn red. Well, I was about done. I needed three more bottles and a child said something funny. I found myself laughing and inhaling. I unfortunately could not stop breathing in and inhaled the a whole mess of red paint in my mouth. Then I got silly and started laughing aloud. I had red painted lips for two days after and I was so proud of our display. We stacked the bottles like a grocery store display and put posters about heart facts around the table. I still laugh when I think of my kids and how they laughed at my red mouth!

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My first year teaching I came to a classroom that in five weeks had five teachers and substitutes. It was after Christmas Break in January second when I first started teaching. I found out the first day that I had not planned my transitions from subject to subject. I learned very quickly to plan every part of the day.

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I made home visits after a month of school during my first year teaching. I thought if I met the families and they knew I cared for their child that the children would be more serious in my fifth grade classroom. I had a LOT of off-task behaviors that slowed our day.

I had grown up in North Georgia, but I was teaching in South Georgia in the second poorest county in Georgia per the 1980 Census. I had seen poverty from a distance, but never up close. Two memories stay with me.

I drive to Michele's house. It  is tiny wooden house with a front porch that has nothing on it. Michele's grandmother invites me in as as she does she tells the children to go to another room. I walk in and there is one couch. One chair and to decorate the right walk (in fact the only decoration) is a Christmas card tacked to the wall. I remember inhaling deeply and almost passing out when Michele's grandmother said that she took care of 11 grandkids and that Michele, age 16, was the oldest and that she was a great help to her.

Michele loved me dearly and tried so hard to learn after that visit. Before she'd not talk to me about her learning after that she'd whisper about what was hard for her to learn.

And...the scariest home visit was Telly's house. Telly lived close to Michele, but his small wooden house's front porch was a third gone- nothing but a big hole. I stood beside Telly and asked to speak to his parents. Telly said for me to please leave and that he lived with his uncle. The uncle drove up and ran to me, but as he ran he picked up this branch. He trimmed off the small leaves and smaller branches and yelled at me. I was terrified. Then, he hit Telly. I screamed for him to stop and that I was there to tell him how hard Telly worked in school.

The uncle hit Telly again and I stepped in the way and the uncle threw down the branch and told me what a horrible kid Telly was. Telly stood there crying and I again said that I was there to let families know that I cared a great deal about their child, and I wanted them to have a good fifth grade year. I walked off as the uncle hit Telly in his head. I figured I'd turn this in to my principal and maybe we'd get Telly a home where hitting him in front of his teacher wasn't the norm.

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I have other memories, but that is for another post.