Keepin' it Real

More adventures from elementary school

One of my utter delights (a student, obviously) came into the room from recess, took one look at me, and said, “Loeffler, you get a new hairstyle?” As I obviously had not nipped out to the salon on my 25 minute lunch break, I assumed I had tousled it one too many times. “Why,” I asked the student, “Does it look weird?” “Oh no!” he exclaimed, “It looks great!”

There is absolutely nobody like a kid to pop any kind of ego balloon you might be floating at any one time. Last week, a group of my students were eager to tell me that a 5th grader told them that, now that he’s past having to have me as a teacher, I’m a “nice, old lady.” I later ran into that particular student in the hallway, looked at him sideways, and said, “Nice, old lady, huh?” The boy barely looked sheepish as he put his hand on my shoulder and replied, “Very nice.”

I continually make jokes about my age while I teach, so all of the kids know that I’m not precious about it. I tell them they have to write on their white boards larger so that “My old, old eyes” can read it from across the room. At this point, I’m older than all of their parents, so they think that is hilarious. I have to say I prefer it to the days when I was a young teacher, intimidated by the parents who looked at me much like I looked at the Doogie Howser-types who have shown up in various hospital rooms!

If I make mistakes in class (“if” — that’s a funny joke. I meant, “when”), 4th graders will joyfully correct me. Yes I did call Victoria, “Veronica.” Twice. Yes I did forget to take attendance. Yes I did ask where so-and-so was when he was at Speech. Yes I did make a thousand math and reading errors each and every day of this year. (OK, some of them were on purpose, because correcting my mistakes is very good for them. But mostly they were just Oopsies. Or maybe Perimenopausisms.)

To be completely honest — as I do try to be in this space — children are often the proverbial mirror held up to see my true self. Two girls ran up to me in the hallway this morning:

Girl 1: It’s going to be a GREAT day, Mrs. Loeffler!

Me: It sure is!

Girl 2: With a lot less yelling!

Me: Was there yelling yesterday? From me?!

Girl 2: Oh yes. A lot.

Me: (feeling defensive) But I wasn’t upset yesterday!

Girl 1: (a knowing look)

Me: Oh, do you feel I’m yelling right now?

Girl 2: Yes, because your voice is higher so sometimes it sounds like yelling.

When I tell you how AWARE I am of my tone in class today… and how grateful I am to those girls for pointing it out… Even the humble pie I sometimes have to eat is digestible because these kind of comments mean that these kids trust me. They know that they can tease me or even correct me because I listen to them. If they hurt my feelings, they don’t know it — I make sure of that.

I love the part of teaching that comes when students take ownership of their classroom, and of their teacher. At some point — quite early on in the year — I start to belong to them. When that happens, they start to care for me. They remind each other not to use the word “easy,” not because they’ll get in trouble, but because “Mrs. Loeffler doesn’t like it.” Mrs. Stefan (our principal) appeared in my room one day this week because my kids asked her to come ask me to sing to her — not only because they are proud of me, but because they knew I’d like to be asked. They will compliment my clothes or my jewelry, they’ll remind me to plug in my lunch, and they’ll ask if “Mr. Loeffler is mad that I was in bed with that guy” when I show them scenes from my show. (He isn’t, and that kid was relieved.)

School is a tough place to be for adults right now. Our referendum didn’t pass, and the school board voted down the idea of going to a 4-day school week, so the district has to cut $2 million from the budget for next year. Even those of us who aren’t in danger of unemployment (SO MANY lost jobs) aren’t sure what our jobs are going to look like next year. The point is, the main reason I come here has not changed: these kids are incredible.

Thanks for reading.

Love, Susie