The days prior to our Research and Development school year were flooded with ideas, dreams, hopes and more ideas.  Kim Larson and I spent hours hovering over the computer, meticulously designing important forms to be utilized in our emerging, “developmentally appropriate” classrooms.  Feverishly we labeled file and file to hold our precious creations.   Writing Workshop, Reading Workshop, Project Groups, Assessment, Math Workshop, you name it, we had a file to represent it.

The walls of our classrooms seemed extremely bare as we prepared for the arrival of our students.  No “cutesy” Susie’s Zoo posters this year, our walls would soon be covered by the work of our budding scientists, doctors and artists.  Bulletin boards, which were usually covered with teacher designed “Welcome to School!” signs, were left nude except for computer typed signs that read, “Reserved for student projects.”  Display windows were also empty except for thin layers of dust nuzzled inside them.  No longer would we spend countless days agonizing over what to exhibit in our windows.  This year the windows belonged to the students!

As we excitedly described all of our plans to the principal, he shook his head in disbelief.  He knew what we were like, every year jumping head first into something new.  But this time he looked at us as if we had really gone off the deep end.  “It all sounds wonderful,” he offered, “I just hope you are not disappointed, you have some pretty high expectations.”  Us? disappointed?  Never!  We just knew that this year would be different from all the others.  We were certain that this year’s group of students would come to school ready and able to participate in all the fabulous opportunities we had to offer them. So what if there wasn’t enough time in our busy schedule for a recess, the students wouldn’t need it, they would be so immersed in our academic offerings that they would forget all about having a silly recess.

Everything was ready!  The tables were sparkling from the thorough scrubbing they had received the day before.  Clutter free except for the plastic coated name-tags taped there to give each child a personal space, their home in the neighborhood we were trying to create.

As we anxiously awaited their arrival, we envisioned their small, smiling faces and big, bright eyes, sparkling with the excitement of the new year.  We could almost feel the energy we knew would radiate from them as they walked through our classroom doors. 

When the bell rang we jumped from our serene thoughts to greet our new friends.  As the children walked through the door, we began to notice that they weren’t quite as we had envisioned them, only minutes before.  Niomi’s eyes were far from sparkling as she entered the room.  The description of her parents’ party, the night before, more than explained the reason why.

Christina worked exhaustively to find her seat, carefully scrutinizing each of the perfectly written name-tags, finally succumbing to the assistance of a peer, knowing she was unable to read even her own name.

Casey’s “sunny” personality shined through, when he informed us that he didn’t have to listen to “no teachers” and that he hated reading and writing.  And Kiev radiated energy all right, but the energy was aimed at the person with whom he had a conflict at breakfast.  Interestingly enough, Kiev spent his first day of school in the office, with Mr. Zetterman, writing an apology note to breakfast para, whose face he had spit in

The rest of the day wasn’t much better.  We learned that Brandon enjoyed playing the game of “Hide and Seek”.  The only problem was that the game wasn’t played on the playground, where it belonged, but where ever and whenever Brandon felt the urge.  Hide and Seek went on during bathroom breaks, in the library, during story time and even in the middle of Mr. Zetterman’s “Everett Student Expectations” speech.  It even turned into a game for the rest of the class, as they began to offer clues to Brandon’s many creative hide-a-ways.  He’s in the lost and found box, or Mrs. Ridder, Brandon is on top of the stall in the boys’ bathroom!  Sure we wanted our students to be creative, but this isn’t quite what we had in mind!

A student named Jimmy, also proved to be a unique challenge…only months before, he had been adopted, by an American family, from a Russian orphanage.  The absence of any formal schooling was immediately apparent because of his lacking skills and the inability to recite even his own name.  But interestingly, because he was already eight years old, it was decided that Jimmy should, “skip Kindergarten to be with kids more his own age.”  Forget the fact that he was only functioning at a developmental age of three.

Upon entering the classroom, Jimmy’s eyes widened in excitement as he looked around the room at the paint, animals, Legos and a water table.  Because he had never seen any of these things, it wasn’t long before he was distracted by the stimulation of the environment.  The rabbit, the blocks and the art center were far more interesting than some old teacher!  Jimmy did sit down once to join the rest of the group, but it was only to get his lunch ticket.  He was starving.  Who wouldn’t be after an activity filled morning like his!

When the final school bell rang, we found ourselves collapsing into two of the miniature chairs, in our completely dismantled classroom.  Our once sparkling clean tables were soiled with markers and crayons.  Books were left lying carelessly throughout the rooms and crumpled pieces of paper littered the floor.  As we reviewed our day’s plans we noticed that nothing we had written down had gone as planned.  All of our hard work and preparation seemed a travesty now.

When I looked at Kim I noticed a tear quietly rolling down her cheek.  Words weren’t necessary, I knew exactly what she was feeling, and before long, I too, was crying over all that seemed lost.  Together we began putting away newly designed files back into the filing cabinet, to be pulled out again, at a more appropriate time.

To our despair, Mr. Zetterman was right we were disappointed.  He did not gloat, but instead was there to listen, comfort and encourage us to continue on.  He offered suggestions for his many years of experience and sent us on our way, knowing that what we had experienced would prove a lesson of a lifetime, a lesson we would not soon forget.

We experienced many setbacks during our Research and Development year, but we never completely let go of our dreams.  Instead, we slowly and deliberately introduced our ideas to the children, but only when we felt they were ready.  Many of our ideas went exactly as planned but far more were modified over and over again to meet the diverse needs of our students.  Together with our kids, we experienced the pleasure of success and the difficulty of dealing with failure.  Simultaneously, we learned how to celebrate our learning accomplishments, but more importantly, we learned how to laugh together at our mistakes and concede and adapt, when things didn’t go as planned.

Looking back to that first day, Kim and I are now able to laugh, remembering our detailed plans to apply at McDonald’s or Yonkers to sell shoes.  I remember thinking it impossible to get through each day, none the less, implement our extravagant R & D ideas!  But now we are appreciative of everything (well almost everything) we had to endure in our pursuit of a more developmentally appropriate program.  All the past year’s memories, still freshly engraved in our minds, will remain with us as we again begin to plan for new students, and a new school year.  A school year which is swiftly approaching.