Skip to main content

The Bridge it is Meant to Be

     As February rounds its own corner and heads toward March we find ourselves at the tail-end of trimester 2 only to head long into trimester 3. Things have changed.

      Instruction is more intense as we have laid down a good base of skills and knowledge. We can draw upon that base to learn more. Expectations are solidly in place and accountability is well rehearsed. We step with confidence into the third trimester.

      The school year will take yet another turn when the weather begins to change. The snow will slowly melt, the grayness of winter will transform into the brightness of spring. Children will delight in the prospect of playing outdoors without their coats, hats, gloves, boots and scarves. This will lead to more anticipatory behavior in the classroom. More fidgeting, more catching a glimpse of the weather out the window during lessons. It's the natural progression of things...happens every year in every grade.
 
      We have spent the last two trimesters learning routines, practicing skills, perfecting strategies, and nurturing independence and accountability. Trimester 3 will hopefully bear the fruits of our efforts and allow us to glide through the temptations of spring, continue to focus, and know that playtime will come amidst the work-time.

      I'm proud of my class. Proud of the progress they have made over the past two trimesters in a vast array of educational arenas. We have more work to do yet still. It will go quickly. It will be fun. It will be what 4th grade was meant to be...that bridge between primary and intermediate type learning.



Mr. Casten
Feb. 14, 2014
Copyrighted material of Michael C. Casten

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Looking Out

Looking Out Originally written May 27, 2015 Lightly edited for clarity in August 2026. Just hours ago, my students left. They are on their way to summer adventures, family time, and friends. Just as quickly as they walked into my life, they walked out again. Yet each of them will always be a part of my life. When a school year begins, my new students are just that—students. They arrive as a group, and at first there is little that distinguishes them beyond their physical appearance. They are quiet, reserved, and and still unknown to me. During those first few days, I snap a picture of each one, not yet knowing who they really are. I work to learn their names and match each one to a classroom number. I try to figure out who knows whom from the neighborhood. I share pieces of my own life, hoping they'll eventually share theirs. Time meanders on. Slowly, they begin to let their light shine. Slowly, they begin to share what's important to them. Slowly, I'm afforded the opportu...
Post a Comment
Read more

Art & Science

     The familiar winds of autumn blew rapidly through the playground.   Ponytails flying, unzipped jackets flapping, and soaring playground balls all took errant paths.        Just as fall has briskly left so has trimester one.   Reports cards were sent home today and I plan on placing the final touches to each student’s conference narrative.   The practice of filling out the narrative for my students has become one of my favorite “at home” aspects of teaching.   I look forward to retreating to my little office in the basement, surrounded by the faint noises of my family upstairs, and writing.   I seem to enter into a world only my students and I really know; the life of Room 211 on a daily basis.       My mind pictures each student as I am writing about them.   Their faces make an entrance into my thoughts followed by the smile I see each day.   I travel back in t...
2 comments
Read more

Running...

Running... Original post written on August 18, 2012. Minor changes for clarity made in Aug 2026. Twelve years. That's how long I have been teaching at Lincoln. Twelve years. That's how long I have taken the same route from my house to school. In that time I have seen many houses for sale, then sold. Some were torn down to make room for a new house, a new family, and new students. I've seen the streets that I traverse through Elmhurst being ripped apart and rebuilt to make them safer and more driver friendly, not to mention more car-friendly. Twelve years. I've seen high school kids standing on corners, waiting for the school bus to pick them up for school. Some of them recognize my car while others recognize me as their former teacher. Most of them, however, probably do not pay much attention to me as I pass by. Among all that I see, Monday through Friday mornings there is an unmistakable figure, usually two blocks ahead of me on Fairfield. He is a man. He has slightly ...
Post a Comment
Read more