What I remember most about elementary school is that there were just too darn many of us kids. At the height of the baby boom in our little town, with no money for a new school, everyone just made do. In 3rd grade, desks were scrunched together so tight there was no room to walk down aisles. Kids were dangling off of old heating registers and on window ledges, and lunch was served in four shifts.

Before my 4th grade year, they uncondemned an old schoolhouse the town owned that hadn't been used in 20 years and bused the 4th grade there. By "uncondemned," I don't mean the community tidied it up by doing little things like removing the asbestos or anything that would actually make it livable - they just reopened the doors and hoped for the best. There were many no water days with porta-johns when the well wasn't working right, and parents knew to pack extra sweaters all winter long because the furnace was unreliable. But when you're nine, everything feels like an adventure, and boarding those extra buses that carried us 4th graders away from the big elementary school off to our little hovel in the woods made us feel special.

The next year someone ruined all the fun (most likely the state health inspector or Center for Disease Control) by condemning that old school again and for good. Drastic measures were needed, so the town council begged adjourning communities to peel off a few kids from locations closest to their schools. Maps were redrawn, and I found myself in the unexpected role of being a new kid in 5th grade at a little school the next town over. The first day of recess was disastrous - I had my chalk in hand, ready to make friends over hopscotch. No one else was carrying chalk - ropes unspooled all around me, and within moments elaborate games of jumprope were unfolding all over the concrete play area, with sing-song chants echoing through the air.

We'd never played jumprope at my old school; jacks was my fallback game. I didn't have a clue how this style of jumprope was played - those were some fancy chants and jumps. By day two of school, a perfect sunny September afternoon, I was sitting on a bench, reading a book, determined to pretend I'd prefer to read rather than play all year long.

It was then my 5th grade teacher, Mrs. Thompson, approached me. She was nearly 60 years old, 4 foot 10, had a shock of short red hair and thick glasses, and weighed maybe 90 pounds soaking wet. She was given to breaking out in showtunes and dancing in class when the math textbook got boring. At any moment, those eagle coke bottle eyes might also intercept a love note passed up the aisle, and she would stop whatever she was doing and have the person holding the note stand up to read it aloud. Everyone adored her and was scared spitless by her at the same time. She ran a very tight cruise ship.

"Tell me, did you read books at recess at your old school?" she asked. "No, I usually played hopscotch." I replied. "But I like reading." "Well, there's no reading allowed at recess here," she said briskly. "Give me the book." She snapped her fingers and her hand shot out to take it from me.

No reading at recess? I was appalled, scrambling to come up with a way to fill all those noon hours all year long. Not to mention this was a school, so the rule sounded a little fishy. I did something I rarely did as the shyest kid in the class. I spoke up. "Why?" I challenged.

Mrs. Thompson wasn't used to being questioned, so she stammered a bit. "Because...because...because the sun damages the books. And then we'd have no books, and if we've got no books we've got no school." Now that made perfect sense, so I handed the book over. She then grabbed my hand. "Have you ever tried jumprope?" she asked as she pulled me off the bench. I shook my head no, and my stomach dropped at what would come next. She would introduce me to the girls playing nearby, tell them to include me, and they would welcome me in the classic 5th grade girls style after Mrs. Thompson left (like a rump roast thrown to a pack of hyenas).

Yet then she did something totally unexpected, which had already made her my all-time favorite teacher - she was always doing something totally unexpected. "Girls, slow down the ropes, I'm coming in," Mrs. Thompson bellowed. "And I'm bringing a friend." Moments later somehow, some way I found myself in the center of the rope, holding hands, facing Mrs. Thompson, fervently doing my best to keep the beat. She didn't stay more than a minute or so, then jumped out and was on her way to terrorize and dazzle her next victim on the edges of the playground.

I won't lie and say 5th grade was easy from then on, and I breathed a sigh of relief the next year when I was back in 6th grade with all my old friends, crammed into yet another too-small junior high school. But Mrs. Thompson forced me to literally jump right in and start making new friends.

So who's the hopscotch kid in a jumprope world this year at your school? A new teacher or two or three who have been hired? A couple big new immigrant families? A curriculum coordinator poached from the next district over? Most school cultures have it ingrained that those hopscotch kids have to prove themselves to us - learn our rules, and play our games. And it's terrifying when you're the new kid (even if you're a new "kid" pushing 50) and you don't even know where to begin. It doesn't matter if you've got a great new teacher orientation day planned in a few weeks, or mentors assigned, or a potluck on the books in October for new families. Now is the time to pick up the phone and take the newbie out to lunch, or pop over with some school supplies and a gift card to the local coffee shop for a quick cup of tea and sympathy. If you reach out now, you will have their gratitude forever, and everyone will have a little less stress and awkwardness during those first busy days of school.

My last phone call to Mrs. Thompson was during a trip home from college, when I was 20 - she was dying of cancer, and wouldn't take visitors because "she looked so awful." She prided herself on her trim suits and accessories - in our little burg, she was quite the fashion plate, so I know the chemo and being bedridden must have been a terrible indignity. I was awkward, and told her I understood. I wish now I had told her she would always be beautiful to me - because she is. Frozen in time, that too-red head thrown back, bumping against a vivid September sky as she kept time, laughing and exclaiming, "Isn't this the most fun?!"

This week, we've got some resources for welcoming new teachers and building a sense of community. Plus more as always. Enjoy!

Brenda Power

Editor, Choice Literacy
www.choiceliteracy.com

Free for All

Two articles from the Choice Literacy Archives to get you thinking about how best to welcome new teachers and students to your school. From Jennifer Allen, a lunch before school with a new teacher experiencing night terrors leads to the start of a much more collegial relationship all year long:

http://www.choiceliteracy.com/public/131.cfm

From Franki Sibberson, whole class interviews in writing workshop build a sense of community for everyone, and are a great assessment tool early in the year. The article includes templates:

http://www.choiceliteracy.com/public/411.cfm

"Schoolwide Rules Creation" from Responsive Classrooms is a case study of how one school worked over time to create a systematic, humane, and thoughtful policy on discipline and school norms. If your school hasn't revisited your community rules and handbook in a while, you may find this brief article helpful:

http://www.responsiveclassroom.org/newsletter/17_4nl_1.html

Thanks to all the participants in this year's summer workshops for making them such fun. Registration for our Fall Workshops on October 18-20 in Rockland, Maine is now open. We hold these events at the beautiful Samoset Resort, right on the ocean. Featured presenters include Jennifer Allen (Literacy Coaching), Aimee Buckner (Mentor Texts), The Sisters (Daily 5 and CAFE Assessment), Franki Sibberson (Struggling Readers), and Karen Szymusiak (Literacy Principal). All events are small, with limited enrollments to allow participants plenty of time to question and chat with the presenters:

http://www.choiceliteracy.com/public/department22.cfm

For Members Only

Shari Frost reflects on what went wrong (or right) when a literacy coach decides to return to the classroom, and in doing so considers the kind of support coaches need to thrive in "Back to the Classroom":

http://www.choiceliteracy.com/members/644.cfm

When Karen Szymusiak had the opportunity to open a new school as a principal, one of the first things she did was set up mixed age groups of students to meet with adults from beyond their classrooms. In this week's five minute video, Karen shares how these Tiger Teams work, as well as an excerpt from a spring Tiger Team meeting focused on books:

http://www.choiceliteracy.com/members/656.cfm

Finally, in "Bucking Broncs and Spitting Bulls," Andie Cunningham finds a rodeo reminds her of the opening days of school, and how timed assessments can cloud our vision of students early in the year:

http://www.choiceliteracy.com/members/657.cfm

That's all for this week!