“Sy, I got a beef with you.”

“Well, good morning, Dev. What’s up?

I was meeting with my grade-level team in another classroom when Dev found me early yesterday morning.

“Well, it’s not with you personally,” he continued, “but have you seen my grade? I mean, I know it’s not my ‘grade’ but I can’t have an F, Sy.”

“Let’s go see what’s going on, Dev.” And we walked across the hall to my room.

Funny how, despite one’s efforts to get kids to see “grades” differently, there still remains vestiges of the Freak out from their traditional experiences when they see an F on the online grading screen. Thinking I had perhaps moved us past such moments with multiple explanations and reassurances to kids and parents about what the “grade” means on the screen, I was a bit disappointed but not surprised by Devin’s response to his “grade” on Skyward. Old realities cling. New realities struggle to take hold.

“Sy, you know I gotta have my bike. If I have an F, then I can’t ride my bike. And that’s not an option. I gotta ride my bike,” Dev persisted on the way to my classroom.

He’s right, I do know. He tells me and the rest of the class every day during Smiles and Frowns. Not a day goes by that he’s not sharing something about maintaining his many bikes or pulling off some gnarly new tricks at the skate park. I know. I also know because I, too,  need my bike. Bikes. That was our connecting point. Dev was new to my class at semester, and he was not quiet about wanting to transfer back into my colleague Jenna Tamura’s classroom. He liked her. He was comfortable with her. But he said he’d give me a chance. And so, for a few days, Dev took me and my class for a test ride. Somewhere along the way, he learned about my love for two-wheel wonders and apparently that sealed the deal, for he stayed. And I am glad. I am glad I passed Dev’s test.

Anyway, back to my room and Dev’s beef. In a matter of minutes, we settled his grievance. He was missing two performances, which I knew, for I had just updated the online grade book the night before. One, I was able to give to him, along with a fresh stack of resources, to take home. The other, I told him he could take during class later that day. And just like that, all was right in Dev’s world again. He would not lose his bike. He was not “failing.” But he did need to follow up; he did need to “find” me, so we could set things straight. And he did. He found me.

And that’s what I am now going to start telling my kids that an “F” means: Find me. It does not mean you are failing. It means you need to find me. It means that your grade needs attention. And until we connect, we can’t do much about it. But once we do, there are many things we can do. There’s always possibility. There’s always opportunity.

But these require connecting. And while I’d like to think that I am closely connected to all my kids at all times, it is simply not the truth. There are too many of them, and there is too little of me. And that, along with my adult ADHD and my not-so-impressive organizational skills, results in our losing touch every now and then along the trail. But I stay on the trail. Yes, I sometimes, explore that curious path that “bends into the undergrowth,” but I never stray from the trail. And in that, I try to be the beacon. I try to be he who brings some comfort and supplies some aid out here in the great expanse of my and my kids’ wandering. I try.

Yesterday, Dev found me. And so did many other kids. We emailed our learning reports home to parents. So, yesterday was a good day to be found. Yesterday was a good day to peddle possibility and offer opportunity. It’s what I do. It’s why I am out here. But I can’t do it all. The kids have to help. They have to Find me. For I get lost sometimes, too.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…move down the Be A Voice path.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.