[katiaudreyramone]

a sentiment i’ve seen expressed a few times now is “i’ve been ready to take a bullet for my students for years - you think i’m afraid of ICE?”

i’m so incredibly afraid of ICE. i’m so afraid that they’re going to raid my school. i’m so afraid that they’re going to come to my classroom and try to take one of my students.

because i will fight. i will get arrested and i will lose my job before i let them take a single child from my classroom. they will have to hold me down fvcking bodily if they want to come anywhere near my kids.

and i will be so, so afraid the whole time. i’m so, so afraid right now. we’re not made of steel - we will fight and die for our students, our kids, but not because we’re not afraid. just like i’m not not afraid of a school shooter. i’m terrified.

i know i can’t let my fear stop me from protecting them. but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. bravery isn’t the absence of fear, and i don’t think it helps to pretend it is.

[aorish-deactivated20251222]

Y'know, if a formerly well-behaved straight A student suddenly starts almost not passing their classes and crying all the time and getting into trouble, maybe the default conclusion from every authority figure should not be that they are lazy and simply need to pull themselves together. Maybe instead you should give them stimulants or HRT or let them kill their parents and see if one of those three things resolves the issue.

[katiaudreyramone]

you can't win 'em all who knows how much longer i'll lay on the floor touch me 'til i vomit i'm not scared of god i'm scared he was gone all along

[katiaudreyramone]

and it's a heavy burden on me, baby

a heavy burden i have never felt before

[mercurys-in-retrograde]

Streamers getting high schoolers into chess is so so funny to me and it's even funnier that all the kids are bad at it too

[mercurys-in-retrograde]

Just heard from my brother in 8th grade that chess.com is blocked at school so kids are playing games of chess over shared Google docs during class. Literally laughing so hard at this.

[katiaudreyramone]

Two of my students made a chess board on a piece of notebook paper. They play whenever we have free time.

[void-kids-stuff-deactivated2021]

[katiaudreyramone]

Pizza Dog and Treasure

[afrafemme-blog]

A friend and I were out with our kids when another family’s two-year-old came up. She began hugging my friend’s 18-month-old, following her around and smiling at her. My friend’s little girl looked like she wasn’t so sure she liked this, and at that moment the other little girl’s mom came up and got down on her little girl’s level to talk to her.

“Honey, can you listen to me for a moment? I’m glad you’ve found a new friend, but you need to make sure to look at her face to see if she likes it when you hug her. And if she doesn’t like it, you need to give her space. Okay?”

Two years old, and already her mother was teaching her about consent.

My daughter Sally likes to color on herself with markers. I tell her it’s her body, so it’s her choice. Sometimes she writes her name, sometimes she draws flowers or patterns. The other day I heard her talking to her brother, a marker in her hand.

“Bobby, do you mind if I color on your leg?”

Bobby smiled and moved himself closer to his sister. She began drawing a pattern on his leg with a marker while he watched, fascinated. Later, she began coloring on the sole of his foot. After each stoke, he pulled his foot back, laughing. I looked over to see what was causing the commotion, and Sally turned to me.

“He doesn’t mind if I do this,” she explained, “he is only moving his foot because it tickles. He thinks its funny.” And she was right. Already Bobby had extended his foot to her again, smiling as he did so.

What I find really fascinating about these two anecdotes is that they both deal with the consent of children not yet old enough to communicate verbally. In both stories, the older child must read the consent of the younger child through nonverbal cues. And even then, consent is not this ambiguous thing that is difficult to understand.

Teaching consent is ongoing, but it starts when children are very young. It involves both teaching children to pay attention to and respect others’ consent (or lack thereof) and teaching children that they should expect their own bodies and their own space to be respected—even by their parents and other relatives.

And if children of two or four can be expected to read the nonverbal cues and expressions of children not yet old enough to talk in order to assess whether there is consent, what excuse do full grown adults have?

[luvlyhuman-deactivated20150629]

I try to do this every day I go to nursery and gosh it makes me so happy to see it done elsewhere.

[bebinn]

Yes, consent is nonsexual, too!

Not only that, but one of the reasons many child victims of sexual abuse don’t reach out is that they don’t have the understanding or words for what is happening to them, and why it isn’t okay. Teaching kids about consent helps them build better relationships and gives them the tools to seek help if they or a friend need our protection.

[geshertzarmeod]

Teaching Consent to Small Children

[lotesseflower]

I wish this post featured the OP’s name more prominently; it’s by Libby Anne of love joy feminism, and she writes fantastic stuff. A survivor of Christian patriarchal fundamentalism, she writes about parenting from the perspective of someone working through her own traumatic experiences. I love reading her blog.

[sylviasybil]

I met my nephew (codename Totoro) in person for the first time when he was eight months old. Before this, I’d known him only through video calling. A few hours after getting home from the airport, my sister (codename Mystery) was holding him on her hip. I asked her, “Can I hold him?”

She smiled and said, “Ask him.”

“What?”

“Hold out your hands to him and see if he leans toward you or away from you.” So I did, and he leaned away, and I dropped the subject. Five or ten minutes later, he was leaning towards me, overbalancing and almost falling out of Mystery’s arms, and she said, “He’s asking you to hold him now.” So I did, and it was magical, getting to introduce myself to my nephew and the firstborn of the Sybil family.

I am all about respecting children’s agencies and teaching good boundaries. I didn’t ask at the airport, when Totoro was surrounded by new stimuli and needed the reassurance of his mother. I didn’t ask when we first got back either; I gave him time to settle down, get used to his surroundings, and get used to me in person instead of a moving picture on a cell phone screen. I thought I was respecting his boundaries. But it had never occurred to me that an eight month old, who couldn’t speak or even understand most speech, might be able to establish his own boundaries.

A year later they came to visit again, when he was 19 or 20 months old. The weather was what we Northwesterners call “a bit nippy” and what thin-blooded Midwesterners like my sister call “fucking freezing, are you kidding me?” As we were getting ready to leave the house, Totoro objected vehemently to the need for pants and a coat. Finally Mystery had me stand by and hand her things as she near-literally wrestled him into his clothes. He was screaming and kicking and saying, “No pants, no no, don’t wanna, no Mama.”

And as she worked, Mystery kept talking to him soothingly. “I can hear you saying no, and I understand that you don’t want to wear your clothes, but it’s my job to keep you safe and warm. I know you’re saying no, I can hear that, but it’s very cold outside and I have to keep you safe and warm.” Over and over, reassuring him that she understood what she wanted and that she had a good reason for ignoring his wishes.

And it hit me all over again, an aspect of respecting children’s agencies and boundaries that had never once occurred to me. Because sometimes it is necessary to override their wishes. Part of being a good guardian is keeping them safe even when they want to play in traffic or eat nothing but candy. But I’d never thought about it from Totoro’s point of view, how frightening and how helpless it would feel to scream “no” into an unhearing void. Mystery made sure he knew he was being heard, he wasn’t being ignored, he was important enough to have people react to his words.

It’s just, geez. Every time I watch Mystery interact with Totoro I learn something new about agency and boundaries and just plain humanness. It blows me away.

[katiaudreyramone]

This works with older-young kids, too. I teach 6th grade right now (11-12 y.o.'s), and we had an issue last week with one boy getting on another's Google doc in class. Boy A (doc owner) kept telling him to get off, and boy B kept saying 'why? Why should I? It doesn't matter, why can't I be on it?' So I pulled him up and told him, 'remember when we talked about saying 'no' or 'stop'? And how when someone says it, you have to listen to them?' 'Yeah.' 'If I was tickling you and you said stop, would it be ok if I said 'why? Why should I stop, it doesn't matter?'' 'But it's not like that. It's not like if I'm touching him.' 'But how do you draw the line? How do you decide when you have to listen to someone telling you to stop, and when you don't?' And he *got* it. And he went to boy A and he apologised and he got off the document. Consent isn't always sexual/physical, and kids can understand that a lot sooner than most people seem to think they can.

[30-minute-memes]

Kids are smart than you think

[captainlordauditor]

If they’re reading something you think is above their reading level, their reading level is higher than you think.

[katiaudreyramone]

This is... Wildly inaccurate?

A child's reading level is not some arbitrary thing that teachers assign based on age or grade level. It's determined through testing and varies from student to student. You can have a fifth grader reading on a college level or on a kindergarten level, and they need to be exposed to texts that reflect that because otherwise they're wasting their time. Reading is made up of two skills; word calling and comprehension. If you can't say the words on the page (word call), you can't read. If you can't understand the words on the page (comprehend), you can't read. Are there 10 year olds who can word call a college level text? Heck yeah, that just means they have solid phonics and have been exposed to lots of words. Can every single one of those 10 year olds tell you what they just read? Nope. Some can, but many-if-not-most can't. And that's ok! A lot of us have so much of our self-image wound up in having been reading on a 'college level' in elementary school and yeah that's a neat trick but it doesn't mean anything except that you were a strong reader at a young age. Also, to be perfectly honest, a lot of us weren't actually reading that high because yeah we could word call with the best of them, but we didn't know what the fvck any of it meant - we got the basics but not the nuance, and that doesn't help us become better readers. Yes, you should challenge yourself, but within reason. It's like going to the gym - if you go in on your first day and try to lift the 500 lb weight, it's not gonna work. You have to build up to that. At the same time, if you're a bodybuilder and you spend your gym time lifting 5 lb weights, you get no real benefit. If kids are looking at books that are wildly above their level, it does them no good because they can't access it. If they're reading books that are too easy, they aren't gaining anything. And trust me, students with lower reading levels will almost to a one try to read books above their level, because it's what their friends are reading and they want to fit in. That doesn't affect their actual reading level. They're just sitting there looking at a book. They're not reading, and the only thing they're learning is that reading is hard and they hate it.

Teachers aren't perfect and a lot of them suck and I get that. I've had a lot who sucked and I've worked with a lot who suck. But this sort of attitude towards something which is really actually designed to help students is detrimental. I'm sorry if it makes you feel less special, but it's also helping you learn to read. Which is the point.

[katiaudreyramone]

i don't need a telescope

to see that there's hope

and that makes me feel brave

[katiaudreyramone]

stay or leave,

i want you not to go

[katiaudreyramone]

another child disclosed to me today. this time it was a drunken, violent stepdad who threatens their mother with a knife. the boy who told me this is in 6th grade and was never in my class. he only really knows me because i have his sister this year. he's latched onto me because i don't know, i'm young and pretty and call him 'baby' and talk to him like he matters and it's not important to him, i guess, that i do the same thing with everyone else. they're so desperate to be special to someone.

to me, they all are. each one. the one who tries so hard during reading group and makes no progress and misses school once a week for no good reason and gets angry at the boys who like her too much for her only being 9. the one who sings and laughs and calls out and dances and is so, so smart but can't control himself even a little bit. the one who loves his baby sister more than anything, even though she keeps him up nights so he falls asleep in reading every single day and has this anger living deep inside of him that shatters him whenever you say 'no'. the one who only whispers, only sometimes, and only to certain people and tries so hard but nothing makes sense to her and she still doesn't know the difference between 'b' and 'd'. the one who was recently diagnosed with diabetes and doesn't get annoyed with me for asking her ten times a day if she's feeling alright. the one who moved schools again and is so angry and doesn't want to be disrespectful but can't control himself. the one who doesn't receive speech services so we're working on 'take a breath and try again' for when he starts to stutter and can't get past the first word. the one who has been here for two years now and barely speaks english and wants to do better than he does but doesn't know how and his mother asked us, 'can he learn' and i was the only one who said yes. the one whose stepfather threatens her mother with a knife but you'd never know unless her brother told you because she smiles and does her work and knows how to read.

each and every one is special to me, because i remember what it is to not be special to anyone. to never be someone's first choice. to never feel quite good enough. so i call them baby and dearest and sweetheart and i love them with everything i have and i tell them so every goddamn day. i can't make them read and i can't make their parents stop drinking and i can't make life fair. but i can wrap them up in so much love that maybe, for a moment, they can forget all of that. maybe i can take a little bit of that away. and if i can do that for them, it's worth the tears and the heartache and giving up my lunchtime. it's all worth it because they are worth it. and i am desperate for them to know it.

another child disclosed to me today. i will report it and i will go through channels and i will tell him i'm sorry because he doesn't want anyone to call the cops and he won't understand the difference between them and cps. i will still eat lunch with him if he isn't too mad at me and i will call him 'baby' and fix his hair for him and tell him it's not his fault. and i will know i did the right thing and it will hurt anyway and i will never ever show it. because all he ever needs to know is that i love him. that's all any of them ever need to know.

[mymouthisfullofstars]

Every morning 24 twenty-four 2 tens 4 ones 20+4 children come to my door. I tell them good morning, I’m so glad you’re here. I invite them inside my classroom my heart my life.   Throughout the day 69 sixty-nine 6 tens 9 ones 60+9 children come through my door for science reading writing recess lunch bathroom. 69 little bodies moving in and out of my classroom my heart my door.   My heart is open. My door is locked.   Because I’ve started locking my door. Not to keep anyone in. To keep people out. To keep out that ‘lone wolf’ ‘deranged killer’ 'sicko’ statistically young, white, male whose right to bear arms means more than 69 children’s right to life.   I’ve started locking my door. I never used to. It’s so annoying to let yourself your class bathroom partners office messengers in and out. It feels so wrong, to lock them in and lock them out. To make them ask permission to come through my door.   But I’m afraid. They’re afraid. We’re afraid. And no one is doing anything. So I’ve started locking my door.

I’ve Started Locking My Door (via mymouthisfullofstars)

[katiaudreyramone]

honey, please try to love me

honey, please

honey, try

[katiaudreyramone]

but of this, as of so many things, we cannot be certain.

Neil Gaiman

[katiaudreyramone]

i know it’s hurting you

but it’s killing me

[katiaudreyramone]

I was almost nine when two boys brought guns to school and murdered their classmates. I didn’t understand it. I knew my mom was upset. I knew that we had to buy special clear backpacks. But I was too young and sheltered to know what a school shooting meant, and Colorado was so far away.

I was 16 when a young man brought a gun to campus and murdered 32 people. I was old enough to understand. I knew people who planned to go to Tech. My older brother went to college. And for the first time, I was afraid. Afraid that someone I knew might bring a gun to school. Afraid that my brother might be hurt or killed. Afraid that something like that could happen in my life.

I was 22 when a man drove to an elementary school and killed 20 children. I was in university, studying to be a teacher. I worked in a school. And I was afraid, because if it could happen in Connecticut, it could happen here. Because any of those children could’ve been my children. All of those children were someone’s children. And all of those children were dead.

There was another shooting this week. We’re not sure how many people were killed - at least 50, probably more. My kids are not afraid. Not because they don’t understand - they do. Not because it’s some vague thing that happens other places - it’s not. They know that shootings happen in elementary schools. They know that there are people who will kill children if they can. My kids are not afraid because these killings are a fact of life for them. They have never lived in a world where these things don’t happen every year or two. There has never been a time when it couldn’t be them. It could always be them. So they’re not afraid.

But I am.

[katiaudreyramone]

and i just miss you and i just wish you were a better man