Scott Staff News
October 21, 2016
I found the following letter and found it very timely with our current experience here at Scott!
A Letter to Teachers from "That Kid" from We are Teachers:
I'm that kid. The kid who gets under your skin. The first grader who colors on your walls and spits on my shoulder partner. The fourth graders that tears up the room and screams and yells. The child who knows exactly how to push your buttons and does so regularly.
I taunt. I terrorize. I hit. I destroy. I curse. I abuse. I roll my eyes. I talk back. I hope I've even made you cry a time or two.
Don't take my behavior towards you personally. I know that doesn't make any sense, since it's mostly directed at you. But you know that old saying about having a bad day at work and going home kicking the dog? Well, you are my dog!
(I didn't mean that the way it sounded.)
I really am a good kid deep down. I care about things. I have skills and strengths that I want to use to help other people. In fact, I secretly want for you to know all these good things about me. But unfortunately, you don't get to see these good things. I am afraid. I am in pain. You know how if you put oil and water in a container together, the oil will float to the top? It's like my fear and pain are the oil, and all the good things about me are water. Every once in awhile, you might shake me up and see just a glimpse of those good things on the surface, but no matter how hard I try, the fear and pain will bubble up and cover everything again. It's easy to think that the way that I react to fear and pain-the anger, the defiance-is the real me. In fact, I've even started to believe it.
The fear and the pain I feel is different than what you might think. It's not always actual physical fear or pain (though sometimes it is). I might be afraid that I'm not worthy of love, since my dad left me and my mom after I was born. I might be afraid that I will grow up to be like my mom, who is an alcoholic and misses all my baseball games. I might be in pain because my family and culture say I'm not manly enough since I cry a lot and am not really into sports. I might be in pain because someone who is supposed to love and protect me said something deeply hurtful that I won't ever forget.
Maybe you look at me and think there's no excuse for the way I behave. You might think, "This child has a stable family, loving parents, and a secure environment. I know kids with a lot less who behave perfectly fine." But please remember that there is always more than what you see on the surface. What you might not know is that the pressure to be perfect or different than who I am is so intense and crushing that I believe I'm a failure, and I'm too scared to tell anybody that.
Or, maybe my home life is fine, but I'm learning a very dangerous message--that I'm inadequate, unlovable or not worthy of belonging--in some situation outside of home, or inside my own head. Maybe something is going on, or has happened, that nobody, not even my parents, know about but me, and I do a really good job of faking that I'm happy or that I know that I'm making things hard for you. I know you don't deserve it. But I feel like you should know this:
Somewhere, on a level that I'm not even aware of, I know you're a person who can help me.
This is a cry for help.
I want the same things everybody else does, but I'm asking for it in the most confusing and unflattering of ways.
I don't know how to fix all of this (or I would have already). And I don't think it's necessarily your responsibility to fix me. But here's how you can help me.
Start small. I'm fragile and I've been hurt. Because I've got so much junk at the surface, maybe you don't try to remove it all at once or ask me to open up right away about my fear and pain.
Show me that you notice me--not my behavior, but something about me.
Ask questions. Don't give in when I try to rile you up. Maybe slowly, I will learn to trust you. or maybe I will take a long time and you won't see any progress in our time together, but your patience and kindness towards me will plant a seed that will sprout many years later.
But please, please, please don't give up on me.
Appreciate each of you!
Paige & John
Angie--You Must be SO Proud!
Baseball Scott Style!
- A BIG howl to Coach Hendrix and the Heritage High School Students!
- A BIG thank you to CABS and Deborah Shaytar! She is always right around the corner offering to help out!
- A HUGE shout out Angie Jenkins and Kori Kinkel for helping build visual schedules and supporting our teachers with behavior ideas!
- A BIG thank you to Kristi Taylor for organizing our Book Fair!
- HOWL...to our teachers that helped with Pastries with Parents!
- A BIG thank you to everyone who volunteered at the Book Fair! Appreciate each of you.
- Shout out to Teresa Crow! She is always there with a smile and willing to offer a helping hand!
- We are SO thankful for Maria Heldman! She bought our muffins, set up the cafe, stayed late Thursday night to sell t-shirts, and SOOOOOO much more! We are grateful for all you do in front and behind the scenes! We also appreciate all you've done to help with Pine Cove! YOU ARE A ROCK STAR!
- A HUGE shout out to Sherri Richardson! She goes above and beyond to help our staff!
- Kelley Anderson--we are so lucky that you decided to join our staff!
- Shout out to Whitney Zorn and the 5th graders for their outstanding musical performance!
Shout Out to First Grade-Mrs. Moreno and Longacre's Classes!
Thought for the Day!
You can teach kids how to be taught. Or you can teach them how to LEARN. We have to be comfortable with kids designing their own problems, even when we don't have the answers.
Shout Out to Holden's Class
Please keep the following staff members in your thoughts...
- Michelle Jaynes' mother passed away this weekend! Thoughts and prayers to you.