I’ve watched one of my 7th grade boys fake reading for six weeks. Now, he won’t admit he’s fake reading. Not even close.

He will admit, however, that he hates reading. Hates books. Always has. And nothing I can do will change that.

Aah, 7th grade is so much fun sometimes.

Every day we start class with ten minutes of relax and read. Aside from the first day of school, we’ve read every single day for the first six weeks of school.

I don’t tell the kids what to read, how to read, where to read…I just ask them to read.

I have over 1,300 books in my classroom. I display intriguing titles, have books grouped by genre, and we talk about books – a lot.

I challenge them to read 25 books before June. It’s definitely a big goal, but I believe they can reach it – and most kids have already finished at LEAST one book.

I don’t care if they read graphic novels, informational books, teen fiction, series…I just ask them to read.

And this little guy isn’t doing it.

He’s the classic fake reader – opening to the middle of a book and hoping I don’t see that he’s not turning pages. Reading the dictionary. Oh – and he finished ‘reading’ the entire textbook in two sittings.

But what I’m most frustrated by is that I can’t figure out WHY.

I know that the ‘fake reading’ is an avoidance behavior. I won’t get into a power struggle, I won’t get agitated. I just calmly ask, every day, what he’s reading and urge him to find one book he can stick with.

He’s still in the excuses stage. And I’m ready to shoot down every one, calmly, kindly.

So today I started digging. I looked at his IEP – worthless. Nothing about reading, just talked about math and graphic organizers. I looked at his grades – failing. I talked to his case manager, the counselor, and still…nothing.

I could feel the frustration, the agitation, the disappointment rising.

We are going to lose this kid if we don’t do something to figure him out.

And then I got a “by the way, we’re adding kid #37 to your English class today” comment, and that was it.

This is how public education fails kids, and how teachers get frustrated and burned out.

It’s not the kid. He’s 12. He’s likely scared, worried, and well aware that he needs to practice reading, even though today he told me he didn’t think he did.

Ashleigh Warner, Psychologist, is reading my mind when she says, “Beneath every behavior is a feeling. And beneath every feeling is a need. And when we meet that need rather than focus on the behavior, we begin to deal with the cause not the symptom.”

His mom doesn’t return my emails. I feel like I can do something to help him, to help deal with the cause…but having 37 12-year-olds to give face time and true attention in a 50 minute period is darn near impossible.

We are going to lose this kid if we don’t do something to figure him out…fast.

This post doesn’t have a happy ending – yet. It’s not about finding the right book, or giving him a beanbag to be comfortable. I know in my gut it’s something bigger –

And I need help to figure him out…fast.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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“Mamawolfe, can I talk to you today?” he questioned as he walked through the doorway of our classroom. There’s a reason I make a herculean effort to greet kids when they come into class. I get a chance to SEE them. I look them in the eye, say their name, and do a quick ‘mom’ check – eyes, face, body language…I can tell a ton in a quick ten-second glance. 

“Sure, bud – let’s make some time to talk in class today. And if something happens – I’ll make sure we connect during 6th period. I don’t teach then, and I’ll call you out of class, ok?”

He seemed temporarily satisfied, but I could tell after the first five minutes of beginning the class something was definitely NOT Ok. His eyes downcast, head tilted to the floor, and no jovial banter with the seatmates – this was not the kid I knew.

“Mrs. Wolfe, can I please go in the hall to text my mom?” he asked during binder check. 

“Sure, but why don’t you go sit at my desk instead? Make yourself comfy,” I suggested, and he agreed.

More to come

A few minutes later I asked him if this was a good time, and to come back to my ‘office’ – a fancy word for a corner space by my desk with a beat-up black bean bag, some lavender oil and coloring books, and kleenex. Several boxes. Most of all, it’s a place where I can listen without interruption, kids can cry and feel safe telling me what’s on their mind. Mostly my AVID classes use this space, but my 7th graders have been known to figure out that I will listen to them there, too.

Today the tears started almost immediately, validating my hunch that all was not right in this 13-year-old’s world. I know this kid pretty well – he’s had more than his share of trauma already in his life. So I listened. He told me about home, his mom, and how he’s frustrated and anxious and worried about his performance in school…and I listened. I reminded him that he will get through this and that when kids have anxiety at school it’s often connected to stuff they’re feeling outside of school – and I knew his outside of school was not great. Not even good. Downright crappy, in fact.

Handing him a tissue, I asked, ‘What’s one thing I can do today to make it just a little bit better?” He shook his head.

“Do you want me to write a note to your history teacher asking for permission to turn in late work?”

“No – my mom will do that. That’s why I texted her. But I know she’s just going to yell at me when I get home. And dump all her problems on me.”

Do parents listen?

I temper my rage when I hear these kinds of things coming from kids’ mouths – and yes, I’ve heard them before. But as a teacher – particularly an AVID teacher – I’m concerned about my student. I’m their advocate. I’m there for them. I can help parents get resources, I can give advice, but when I’ve got a sad and anxious kiddo in front of me, I want to make it better. I just can’t help it. They’re just KIDS! I want to scream. BABIES! They shouldn’t be dealing with all these real-life adult things yet.

“You know, I can just go to your teacher and let him know you need time. That’s part of my job as your AVID teacher. No questions asked. He trusts me…”

“Let me check if she texted me back – nope of course not,” he interrupted, glancing quickly at his phone. 

“Ok,” I replied, looking into his eyes. “You know, you are amazing. You have so much more to deal with than an 8th grader should. Your mom is lucky to have an amazing kid like you, you know? You’re amazing because you are YOU. You don’t have to do anything or prove anything – you’re just awesome,” I sputtered.

What I wanted to say was, “Your mom is lucky you’re not taking all this out on yourself like some kids do – cutting, drinking, vaping, cutting school…all you’re asking is for her to listen to you. To see how amazing you really are. And to treat you like a kid – not her therapist.” But of course, I swallowed those thoughts and we made a plan.

“You know, I just feel better telling you,” he replied softly. And I thanked him again. As I was getting up, he looked at me and asked,  “Can I have a hug?”

‘Of course, you can, Bud, of course,” and he smiled back as he reached for me.

Some days teaching is harder than others – for lots of different reasons. Some days are frustrating, some are long, some are painful. But when I have days like today, the days when I know I’ve been able to be that person a kid can trust to listen, to help them breathe through their anxiety, and to help them remember how amazing they are, it’s worth it. Every single time.

Because they’re KIDS. They have feelings and thoughts and insecurities and very little life experience to draw on to know what’s ‘normal’ and what to do and how to handle life…especially when the adults in their life don’t know how to handle their own.

These are the days I feel like a teacher. These are the days when I didn’t teach the curriculum – I taught students.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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The first day back to class is always full of adrenaline, expectation and fun for me. I’m exhausted at the end of the week, but it’s a good kind of teacher tired. It reminds me that teaching is hard work – if you want to do it right. It’s the kind of fatigue that builds from beginning to create a community from nothing – the first step in letting kids know you’re paying attention to them so they trust you. And it’s beginning to balance kids, teaching, and motherhood – even when I’ve got an empty nest at home.

The first day

In my very, very small reading class, I have the opportunity to connect quickly with my students. We sit on stools and cushions together around a low coffee-style table, face to face. The first day of school this year was also the day my son was leaving the nest and flying to college in Boston. Being a teacher mom has these moments of feeling stretched between two worlds – do we focus on our own child and their needs, or tuck that away and see the kids in front of us. Of course, I try to do both and sometimes it doesn’t work out so well.

The empty nest

This year I didn’t get to see my son off at the airport, and I was sad. I stuffed it away for the morning of teaching, but at lunch when I had a few quiet moments I texted him to see if he made it out of our house ok. Sure enough, he was on his way to the airport and said he’d call when he was settled. The call came just as the bell was ringing for my 5th-period reading class – what do I do? Greet my students with a phone in my hand? Ignore them as they come in the door, knowing it will be weird for them to not see a whole class full of kids? Ignore my son…somehow I needed to balance it. I wanted to show my students the human side of me – the mamawolfe side.

So, quickly I answered the call, hung up, and brought my new readers into a circle. Introducing myself, I told them how happy I was to be their teacher and told them that my own son needed help, he was traveling to college and asked their permission to be a mom while they browsed the books in my classroom library and relaxed.

Of course, they said ok.

Building the relationships

After a few minutes of helping Cam get his boarding pass situated, I was back to the group. And naturally, they had questions. How old was my son? Where was he flying to? What did he need help with? How many kids did I have? Did I have a pet? Where is Massachusetts? Where is Boston? What began as a dilemma had turned into a very teachable moment. We used our US map and found his college, and talked about moving away from home. Quietly, the dark-haired boy to my left said, “I just moved away, too. I used to live in Oakland, but now I live here.”

I was pretty sure no one else heard him. He kept his eyes down, either shy or scared or both. I twisted around and replied, “Oh wow- Oakland is sure a whole lot different from Davis, don’t you think?”

He looked up. “Yeah. It’s a lot quieter.” His voice was a touch louder, but I could still tell he wasn’t ready to open up. The other kids were caught up in their picture book selections and relaxed on beanbags, so I pushed a bit.

“How long ago did you move?” I asked.

His stomach rumbled in the quiet room. Even though we had just come from lunch, I whispered, “Are you hungry?”

“No,” he quickly replied, barely audible.

“Ok; I have granola bars and crackers if you ever want anything….”

“Granola,” he blurted out before I could finish. Silently I stood up, went to my cabinet and grabbed a chocolate chip chewy bar and a small bag of pretzels from my snack drawer. Without speaking, I put them on the table in front of him and sat back down.

Like any teenage boy, he gulped down the snacks as I sat next to him, reading along with my other students. He stood up, dropped his wrappers in the trash and as he sat back down beside me, he asked if I’ve ever been to Oakland.

The moment

That moment – like an electrical charge – broke the ice, the first step taken. We connected. I think he felt my care for him; his body visibly relaxed into his chair. We talked about my grand-doodle Ellie, and other kids jumped in to tell about their dogs. I promised to show a picture of her the next day, and suddenly the class was over. I asked if he knew where to go next, and his quick reply reminded me of what it’s like being the ‘new kid’ in school. Glancing at his schedule I suggested I could walk with him – he was going to one of my favorite teacher’s classes.

“Sure…” his voice came out in a whisper-question, but I went with it. As we approached his history class, I introduced him to his teacher as he greeted kids at the door, knowing they were both Oakland fans. He would be safe in there.

What happened next

In truth, that’s not all of the story – it’s actually not even my favorite part. What happened the next day was where I really realized the power of connections, and what we had done together.

“B” walked back into my room the next day and looked straight at me and said hello as I brought my stool up to the coffee table. The shyness of the first day disappeared, and as the other kids were wiggling around with their backpacks and books, “B” said, “Ms. Wolfe, I have a question. Did your son make it to Boston OK?”

Startled, I looked back at him and replied, “Why yes he did – thank you for asking. I’m sorry yesterday started off a little weird, but he’s there now and I’m here and ready to read!”

“B” smiled and cracked open his book, settling back into the grey Papasan chair I had brought from my son’s bedroom at home. “B”, about the same age Cam was when he used to curl up in it, too, relaxed in his safe space.

I had to go over to my desk for a moment…I knew the tears were coming. Being a teacher-mom is like that. Relationships happen in the most unexpected ways at the most unusual times. Opening up to kids and letting them see YOU helps them open right back up and lets you see THEM. And that’s where the magic can really start to happen.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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“As the nest empties, parents can alleviate the sadness by rediscovering themselves and honoring the strides their children have made.” – Madisyn Taylor, Daily Om

I’ve been sitting on these thoughts for a year now. This post has been in draft mode since last July, as the idea of the nest emptying first began to overtake me. Well, not really. Every parent knows it’s coming, and as much as we think we dread it, or anticipate it, it happens.

That’s just the way life goes when you have children – hopefully.

As the nest empties, holding on too tightly doesn’t work. Actually, the kids themselves are the ones who pull back so forcefully and completely that I had no choice- to let go of the looser strings that were connecting me to their childhood, and trust that the tighter rope, the one of connection and love and trust, would be the one keeping us together. All the way to Boston and Utah, I’ve been trusting on the strength of that rope, woven over decades of trial and error, laughter and tears, hopes and disappointment. I’ve been counting on the ties that will tether us when there’s nothing left but an empty space.

“Instead of feeling proud that their children have achieved so much–whether the flight from the nest refers to the first day of kindergarten or the start of college–parents feel they are losing a part of themselves.”

The journey

When I first started this blog in 2011, I knew it would be called mamawolfe. I knew it would be part of my journey, a way to remind myself of what’s important – not just as a documentation of memories from parenthood, but also a start of regaining a part of myself I lost. Or maybe a part I never allowed myself to find. As the nest empties, I’m wondering if I’m really finding myself – or if a new me is just beginning to unfurl.

Parenting hasn’t been an easy journey for me. I doubt my decisions, I search for the handbook that’s telling me which way to go. I wondered how ‘Jenny’ would survive all this change and uncertainty and lack of control. Parenting became the one thing I wanted to do right; I didn’t want to look back 18 years later and wish I had made different decisions. Oh yes, I now know that those wishes would always be there – that’s part of growing older and wiser and knowing better, and doing better. But the regret – I couldn’t live with that. Or the guilt of putting other things over this incredible challenge of giving my best to these two tiny, fascinating, challenging little humans. They became part of me because I wanted so desperately to let them know they were loved and safe and that there was a person in this world who put them first. So isn’t it natural that now that they’re gone, that I feel like I’m losing part of myself? That something is missing when I walk down the hall, unable to step into their empty bedrooms without feeling that something is gone?

“As the nest empties, parents can alleviate the anxiety and sadness they feel by rediscovering themselves and honoring the immense strides their children have made in life.”

The hummingbird feeder

A new hummingbird feeder hangs just outside Lily and Cameron’s bedroom windows, nestled among the anemones and dahlias, just in view of my morning reading space. I’m waiting, hoping, imaging new little hummingbirds discovering the sweet nectar inside. I’m hoping that the salvia and butterfly bushes in bloom will attract them to my space, delighting me with their gentle, yet fleeting, appearance. 

After two months, it has finally happened. Not one, but two creatures discovered the feeder. They dart between the flowers and the feeder, taking what they need and then flying away. I watch them every morning, smiling as they take what they need and fly away. One day we came face to face, and I froze, eyes connected, barely breathing. The significance of their visit isn’t lost on me – I know it will be cooler soon, and they’ll find somewhere else to make their nest. The blooms will fade, leaving only the artificial red flowers to beckon them back. But it will be there if they need it; I won’t take it down. I want them to remember me, and this space, and know that they have a safe spot to land. I’ll be here, waiting, tending, growing.

“Parents who embrace their changing nest while still cherishing their offspring can look forward to developing deeper, more mature relationships with them in the future. “

The change

Change is hard. I like safe, consistent spaces. Surprises make me squirm, and routines find their way into my life every year. For teacher moms, September is the new January.

Slight changes are manageable. Flexibility is a learned skill, I’m discovering. I’m meditating daily, forcing myself to be present right here, right now, with the breath and the ground and all the beauty that is in my safe space. I know in a few days school will start again, I’ll get caught up in teaching and planning and celebrating. His bedroom door will close while I’m away at school, he’ll take his bags and his backpack and his big, huge heart and head back east. He’ll be smiling, anticipating the familiarity of a second year in college and the freedom of looking forward to new experiences. He’ll leave his bed unmade, the laundry basket half-full and shoes on the floor. He doesn’t need everything to go with him just yet. Leaving a little bit behind is OK with me. I’ll still be here waiting, tending, growing.

He’ll take a huge part of my heart with him, too. There’s no doubt that the strings will loosen as the rope tightens, that the man he’s becoming will pull back a bit – or a lot. I’m ready, I guess. I’ll plant my self, grounded in the relationships we’ve created and those yet to come. And I’ll watch for the hummingbirds – maybe they’ll leave a feather behind before winter comes, too.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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When you are thinking of changing your career path, it is always important to spend some time thinking about your own personality. The way that you carry yourself and the way you behave day to day do make a huge difference to what kind of role you are likely to succeed in, and it is something you will want to think about carefully if you really want to end up with the right job for you.

If you consider yourself to be particularly headstrong and creative, the good news is that the world of business has countless roles available for you. Let’s look at some of the kinds of things you might consider doing if you have these particular qualities.

Design

Maybe you want to make more use of the creative side of your skills? In that case, you might well consider going into the world of design in order to be able to be creative in your daily role. In design, you can help to create products which are more likely to be appreciated and enjoyed by the customers, and you will find that this can be surprisingly rewarding as a business role. It might help if you have a qualification in design, but this is not always essential, and in fact, it is rarely as important as simply being able to design something well. If you go into design, you will be able to be creative and also enjoy the world of business as well.

Marketing

One of the most common and popular routes into the world of business for those with a creative bent is to get into marketing. Indeed, this is a great way to make use of your own creativity if you want to be in business, and it can be an easy one to get into as well. As long as you have a good basic understanding of what sells and how, and you are happy to apply your own creative ideas to that process, you should find that marketing affords you a fantastic chance to let those skills flourish in the workplace. If you are keen to bring your own creativity to the world of business, then marketing is a great route to go down.

Photography 

Anyone can claim to be a photographer these days. But it’s more than just being able to take snaps on your smartphone or knowing how to connect camera on Mac. A good photographer is a sought-after resource for businesses and brands, as these images portray them in the best light. Studying photography can help by leaps and bounds if you’re looking to start a career. However, there’s no denying many people who get into this field have a natural ability to capture the best shots. You can also explore the range of tutorials and advice on different photography skills. There is also lots to learn about editing your images too. 

These are just a few of the careers you can delve into if you have a creative streak. There are endless possibilities to showcase your unique personality and talents, so take a look at what’s out there! 

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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