day 2 - the visitor's badge is temporary

Red 

Alone with a classroom of kids in the computer lab dungeon. All is chatty. Echo-y whispers and key-pecking. A red alert comes on. A man's voice, over and over. The 6th graders freeze. Their eyes say that they want their mommies. For the first time in years, their mouths say nothing. I search my memory -- yellow, orange, red. Red was worst case scenario. I imagined a dangerous, drunken, and high intruder stumbling through the hallways with a knife and a gun, foaming at the mouth and muttering obscenities. 

I command computer screens off. I command doors shut. The doors have no locks, but I command silence. They are my flock. ... then the door opens and Mrs. Meek tells me it's a drill and tells the students to just be quiet until it's over. 

I was just as relieved as the cluster of girls glued to one another under the back corner table. 

Orange
He wants a book about aliens. But not long. And not fake aliens. The real kind. They exist, and he wants people to write about them in short books so he can read about them for small increments of time. I should be frustrated.

But I'm excited. Invigorated by the challenge. It's a game -- a riddle. He can like reading. I just have to figure out how to navigate that maze of prerequisites his 6th grade mind has built. In my spare time, I google "aliens."

Yellow

It's tedious, arduous work. It requires planning and constant analyzation of what everyone is saying. Everything is important. Words make or break confidence. Words make or break respect. 

Plans are meant to be re-shaped as the lesson moves. A single question can cause an instant need to switch gears. Surprise activities. Surprise advice. Surprise reprimand or redirection. 

Plan in order to have a plan to change. Change in order to fulfill a bigger plan. Let them fulfill high expectations and they will grow and change. This is apparently the most challenging semester of college, and it's going to be my favorite by far. I feel like I finally fit. My future is bright.