Category Archives: education

A New Year – A Confessional of sorts

Standard

 I am not Catholic, so I’m not sure how this whole confession thing works but I’ll give it a shot. Or maybe it’s like attending an AA meeting, “hi I’m Jules and It’s been 314 days since my last blog post”. Whew, I feel…mildly relieved and somewhat disappointed. Why the break? Words over those missing months never seemed to unjumble, time sped away, and well, I took a break.

My focus turned to growing myself as an educator and learner.  During this time, I developed a new vision of a learner for myself and my students.  Excited I launched into pet projects, volunteered on interesting committees, and searched endlessly for a big “aha” moment to bring me back the passion that I seemed to lack.  What I found more than anything was stress, a longing for when teaching was more fun less paper driven, and through it all, my self-made mountain to the teaching promised land of high fives and power leader thumbs up, dead ended.  Instead the mountain became Mount Everest and I was/am low on oxygen.  And the view is the same.

When I made the tough decision to let blogging fall behind as I focused on this taxing professional goal, I lost a bit of myself.  Writing had become a sanctuary for vexing ideas, and I was lost.  My free time, if having three kids allows for it, was spent working on a district chat, increasing numbers in a volunteer student group, starting a makerspace group, growing my educational community; becoming a better teacher. 

While the “thanks Ms Z”, sly high schooler smile, or seeing a face light up in Makerspace is fulfilling and can turn gray days to sunny times, I need to make some changes that give me some time to rejuvenate.  Perhaps saying a few more no’s to others and adding more me time will part the writing clouds and cause words of wonder to rain upon me.

Like a soprano practicing to hit the elusive high notes, I find myself rehearsing the word no.  Currently it’s pianissimo.  With confidence, crescendo will be around the corner.  Then I can change the tune to a bit more me, me, me, me.  Sounds harmonious, right?

   

Current students who make my everyday.

  

Makerspace cuties lighting up holiday cards.

  
  

Peer-to-peer program, watching students support each other.

 

Advertisements

Teaching – A Journey of Sorts

Standard
Teaching – A Journey of Sorts

Teaching, a family of sorts, has ranks in my top 5 favorite things.  The connection to our youth, educating, nurturing of young minds, and the development of learners has been a daily part of my last 17 years in education.  I love the journey that students and I travel in our four years together.

In recent years, my room has transitioned into a haven of sorts.  Besides learning and teaching each other, we laugh, cry, support, and uplift.  Students see this space and our department, Special Education, as a family.  Sure every family has ups and downs, problems and causes for celebrations.  What family also has, is a bond.  Our department has created this safe space through a bond of trust.  Not a day passes without a student sharing fears, tears, or laughs.  Not an hour slips by without a face just popping up or a quick email to say hi.  Not a week trickles past without one of us having a conversation about life, the future, and “the plan”.  Students are on this education journey and in most ways, we are tour guides.

We lead them around the curriculum, hoping they soak in the knowledge.  We show them the better paths for exploration, but allow self-direction and exploration.  Like the old saying goes, “we can lead them to the water, but cannot force them to drink”.  I have witnessed incredible personal growth, determination, and learning come from our shared students.  Our department is a home for many souls looking for a caring face, some tough love, a welcomed ear, or just a place away from the high school daily storm.  This haven, it’s what keeps me excited about education, searching for new techniques, and ready for each day.

I am not just a classroom teacher for these students.  I am mom.  An advisor.  A counselor.  A cheerleader.  And much more.  Special education has my heart. I love the smaller class sizes, the journey from rambunctious freshmen to independent seniors, working weaknesses into strengths, and together, this small core group, seeing each other through great growth.

Education for me is creating a safe haven for failure and growth.  One cannot have the growth and success without stumbles, failure, along the way.  After four years, together my students and I go through a lot of wonderful learning.  About life, education, family, friends, and everything in between.

Now that may change.  My educational vision is being challenged, perhaps changed.  I am a classroom teacher, that’s where my heart lies.  Never have I visioned my role in education as a layover, a place for students to pop in and out for minutes of support.  A room for students to drop in and gain academic support and head off.  I love to teach, plain and simple.  I love having a classroom full of learners and together seeing each other through pathways of understanding, acceptance, and life.  Education, special education specifically, has always been about that journey.

What do I do if my idea of education, my career, my heart is being called to change?  Forced to reexamine why I am in special education, I sit and think.  Think and ponder.  Ponder and be still.   And still, that’s where I find myself remembering the why, the why I went into special education.

The why?  That’s simple, it’s the journey.  Excuse me while I go back to researching ways to reach and teach this wonderful population.  They are why I love teaching.

Better Than a Blue Ribbon

Standard

Each morning a small group gathers outside my classroom door waiting for the key to unlock their home away from home. While I stow away my winter gear, a few wander about, turning on lights and checking the temp. We chat about last night’s events, the latest flick (even though I’m clueless unless it’s a Dreamworks or Disney production), newest drama run down, mostly about life. This group keeps me centered in a lot of areas. Usually I’m reminded that my hair is disheveled…perhaps oohs about my jewelry…a mention that my mascara is smeared…an occasional compliment on the outfit, or random remark about my overall “look”. They check in before lunch incase I’m needing a tea or a little lunch pick me up. For most, we will grow together as an educational family over the 4-5 years of high school.

Amongst this group is a bubbly, sweet lady. My colleague and I are her pushing her to meet and surpass many family obstacles. The first to go to college, not get pregnant at 18, and to get a career beyond minimum wage; she can do it, we have faith in her. Today it was my day to learn from her. Outside her friends and secure special education class, she’s quiet, shy, and watcher instead of her usual leader role. This day, she set her nerves aside and read aloud to her general education class a poem written about me. Better than a blue ribbon, national award, or administrative thumbs up is the honest words of a teenager. Here are Miss A’s wonderful words. This deserves a frame.

Sometimes Mrs. Ziemelis
can be overzealous.
She is very short, in height,
and still very delight.
From her glasses to her dark brown hair,
from the beautiful jewelry that she bares.
She is like no other,
but a wonderful mother.
The fun of her personality,
and she has mentality.
The smile on that face,
can never be replaced.
From what she teaches,
is what she preaches.
From the helping hand,
to the smiles that stands.
Mrs. Ziemelis’s beauty
can be fruity.

IMG_7263
Here is Miss A hanging out with my youngest at a Christmas gathering. She’s a sweetie!

I’m Okay with Average

Standard

Recently I had someone tell me that my child was not the “best” _________.  This was not a news flash as I don’t expect my children to be the best.  No feelings were hurt.  Best is a word that I try to tip toe around.

What I expect is that our children never give up, that they follow through on whatever task, sport, or group that they commit to.  He or she should be the best him or her; an individual best, not an overall best.  If our children excel at striving for personal perfection while rarely seeing #1 ranking, I’m okay with that.  If he goes through life pushing his skills beyond individualized best, but falls in the middle of the pack, I’m okay with that.  If our middle E, wins some games and loses some opportunities, yet gains insight on learning life lessons on loss, I’m okay with that.

Yes, I am okay with average.  No I am not accepting mediocrity, instead I  am challenging our children to continue to strive.  Being the best at a task means he or she has solidly beat out all others in that select task.  Is that possible?  Yes.  Will it happen for our children? Perhaps.  Most likely and existing in reality is the fact that our children may spend their lifetime striving for that elite status.  Falling flat may and will happen.  They could be destined for middle of the pack and again, that’s okay.

I am not celebrating the ordinary or the unexceptional.  Rather I am teaching and embracing the road to extraordinary if that’s where life heads.

I’m average; build, hearing loss, mother, teacher, friend. It’s okay, really it is. This garden variety, mainstream life is what drives me to try new things, push personal limits, and aim high. My best has not been achieved, I’ll keep striving for the allusive best. It’s there somewhere.

.

https://cheervia.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/cheerleading-quotes-inspiring-motivational-sayings-try-your-best.jpg%5B/caption%5D

Me – a quick write

Standard
Me – a quick write

Recently my seniors were tasked with writing about who and what influenced them to be who they are today. To model this 10 minute quick write, I also wrote and then shared out my draft. It is not perfect and is still a work in progress, but that’s me and why I’m sharing my draft. My hope is that I can show students that the writing process is as much about the words as it is about the interactions and conversations that come from opening our words to others.

I’m from blue collar parents who worked for every dime and saved each nickle.
I’m from a large family of older brothers who were my protectors and not much of friends,
until now.
I’m from a small town, my roots go deep and my branches wide.
I’m from an illness that nearly took me, but instead gave me a gift.
I’m from a life lived in a hearing world where I was often left behind.
I’m from experiences; of hope, love, and learning.
I’m from a place where I get to share and develop young minds, molding the next generation.

I’m from a loving relationship that inspired me to find one of my own.
I’m in a caring marriage of laughter and support.
I’m from years of infertility that grew the desire for parenthood and a family of my own.
I’m from a home of pitter pattering feet, silly sons, and a caring daughter.
I’m from love.

Where I’ll go is unknown.  Where I’ve been is everything, it is me.

Peace.

Standard
Peace.

I found Peace tonight. It was there all along. I just needed to venture out to find it.

In sub zero temps as I took the pup out for duty #8 of the evening, Peace met me.

After a long day back, moderating a dismal attended twitter chat, abandoning my aids in an effort to comfort the Tinnitus, and putting aside parental responsibilities, Peace met me.

I entered the glittery, shivering yard and there it was. Calm. No sounds to disrupt the message. Not a distant siren, roaring engine, not even a loan woof in the night air. Ignoring the icy breeze, I gazed out, my eyes lingering on all surrounding me. Our path, built on love. And there was Peace.

I met Peace tonight and my heart is calm. Come back tomorrow.

Perhaps I should explore more often, leaving my hearing aids aside.

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/372/31464642/files/2015/01/img_7448.jpg

The Lost Ones

Standard

Local news, printed and gossiped, surrounds the lost ones. Souls lost to drugs, alcohol, forgotten love. Kids, adults looking to soothe the aches and hurt with substances.

Where were you? Where was I? What went wrong? Who is responsible?

Whether deceased, incarcerated, or trashed, these souls need us to not turn away, pretend not to notice, or leave them alone.

Do you know that your teenager is doing drugs? Harmless you may say, but what’s next? Do you know who she is with? Read the headlines, listen to the chatter. Is she next?

What will you do? Can we save the lost ones? Walking the hallways are souls wedged in the crack, soon to fall through. Can we close the gap before they stumble? That boy, in the headlines, reached the crack, looked around, and fell. No one, no net, no agency caught his stumbling ways. Now it’s too late.

The next lost soul, who will it be? What will you do? Can we reach the lost ones, extending a hand, offering an ear? Is innocence an excuse? Do you know?

Questions; my head is swimming, my heart aching.