Felicia was clowning around during carpet time, distracting others, and it was driving me crazy. I mentioned this at a parent teacher conference. Mom nodded and laughed and told me that she gets it from her stepfather who always jokes around. The next day I was able to praise Felicia for having a sense of humor and talk to her about her stepdad and the value of humor. I was also able remind her that both Mom and Dad really loved her and wanted her to learn, but that there were certain times during the school day that clowning would not help her learn, and that there were times that it was inappropriate. We talked about times were joking was appropriate and about times when it was not allowed. I had no more clowning problems with Felicia.

I had assumed that Felicia should have known what to do during carpet time. She was not being "bad," she was being herself. Once she knew that her behavior was inappropriate for the time and place, but her humor was valued in other situations, she was able to make a distinction. I need to remember that I need to be more direct with some children about expectations. A change in my language could make a difference.

I returned to my classroom from walking the bus children outside to see Miltosha asleep on the carpet surrounded by the noise, bookbags, jackets, and fourteen remaining children. She was supposed to be on the bus. Since she falls deeply asleep at some point every afternoon for an hour or more, the students did not notice. Since many of my bus children tell me about late night television shows they see like "David Letterman" or "Singled Out" I predicted that Miltosha had no specific bedtime. I drove her home and was wondering how I was going to stress the importance of having a bedtime to her mother without sounding like a lecturer.

When I walked her in her house, I noticed that on her kitchen cabinet was a list of Miltosha's household responsibilities. Some of the things were making her bed and putting her laundry away. One of her agreements was to go to bed by 9:30 and have the lights out by 10:00. Although I think that 9:30 is too late for a six year old who falls asleep every afternoon, I knew that her Mom valued responsibility, routine, and cared about her daughter getting enough rest. Because of Miltosha's color and address, I thought I knew her situation. I had prejudged Miltosha's mother and her mother's values.

I was becoming impatient with Marquisha. She was writing a story for Writing workshop "with" her friend again. This meant that Marquisha would let her academically stronger friend write and she would copy. I wanted her to become the independent writer she was capable of being. I just needed to get her to choose a topic and since she would not generate one herself, she was sulking at every suggestion I gave. Then I remembered a day when I drove Marquisha home after her weekly tutoring session with a High School volunteer. Her Mom was home and had made a wonderfully smelling dinner of fried chicken, greens, and cornbread. I reminded her of this and asked if there was anything else she loved that her Mom made. Marquisha went on to write a very descriptive, lengthy story of her favorite home cooked dishes.

One Tuesday afternoon Thomas' mom was leaving her front porch when she spotted me , smiled, and pointed towards me. "Hello, Ms. Jones," I said. "You are....Thomas' teacher. Yes, I thought I recognized you." The Friday before, Thomas' mom had come to school to tell me that in a counseling session, Thomas revealed that he was being sexually abused by a neighborhood boy whom he would not name.

"Did Thomas tell you I saw him in the church parking lot with Angelo Sunday night?" The church was across a fairly busy street and about a third of a mile away. Angelo was a former student at my elementary school and was on of the most difficult children each of the six years he attended. She became angry. "He knows he's not allowed up there." I asked her where Thomas was then, and she got angrier. "I don't know, I can't talk here no more. I've got things to do."

I learned a great deal from my unplanned visits that I would have never been able to get in a phone conference or a meeting. At Miltosha's house I learned that I cannot prejudge my children's homelife. Parents care for and love their children. They want to teach responsibility. Marquisha's clean and tidy house emitted a warm atmosphere where I knew she was loved. My encounter with Thomas' Mom indicated that he probably had too little supervision, support, and protection. Thomas needed from me even more direction, support, discipline, and consistency. I knew I should not let him avoid work that he was capable of doing with his daily tears . He desperately needed school to help him succeed.