Chronically absent student misses days before exams start. Shows up. While on norning duty, I hear her say, "Yeah, I was absent because my mom tore her rectum. I couldn't get a ride here because she couldn't drive."
My ears perked up, and I decided to get my mind out of the gutter, because there's no way this child has just announced that her mother tore her rectum. Must have said "retina."
Another teacher arrives, opens the gym, and she goes inside. One of the kids to whom she was speaking came to me and said, "Ms. M., what's a 'rectum?'" I'm taken aback. Was I wrong? Surely, this other child heard wrong, too.
"Why? is that on your science exam?" (I'm so smooth.)
"No. Twyla said she couldn't come to school because her mom tore her rectum. What's a rectum?"
"Ummmmmmm look in your science book for more information, but it's kinda part of your digestive system. It's one of the stops your food makes on its way out of your body." (Super smooth!)
"Oh. Ok."
A few minutes later, I hear a female senior screech, "Your mama tore her rectum?!?!?!?! What she been doin'?!?!?!!?!?!" There was silence, which was followed by a loud chorus of "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I don't wanna know what was said.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Who says real life isn't like TV?
I watch Glee. In fact, I love Glee. This is odd, because as a non-singing, non-dancing theatre person and drama teacher, I LOATHE musicals. But Glee is awesome. SO, nyah.
I directed my first school play earlier this month, and it was an amazing experience I want to repeat, but not any time in teh very immediate future. Next fall is better, haha.
Anyway, I had a large cast: 19 kids. 3 non-speaking parts, 3 tiny parts, the rest had several to plenty of lines. Ambitious, I know. Lesson learned. I teach in a school with about 115 kids from 8th to 12th grade. The coolest part of teaching in a small school? Everyone is involved in everything. The worst part of teaching in a small school? Everyone is involved in everything. I worked out time shares with the basketball, cheerleading, volleyball, and dance team coaches, as well as had to deal with the wrestling, volleyball, cross country, dance team, cheerleading, and basketball practice and game schedules, as well as work in the bowling team meets, which outweighed all of that, because that's my other after-school commitment, haha.Oh, and I had a student who attends our school half day and a creative arts school in the afternoon. WHEW. As you can see, I had athletic, popular, theatre, and artsy kids, as well as student council kids and kids who had never done anything like this before to juggle. As we all know from movies and TV shows, the jocks and the artsy kids and the student council kids and all of that never overlap in larger schools, and, well, the same is actually true in small schools, too.
We did a modern-language one-act adaptation of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" by Shakespeare, chosen because I also had to teach the real story in my sophomore English class this quarter. As usual, I offered bonus points to my students who were in the play or worked back stage. Two girls decided that if they could get bonus points, then maybe they could put up with being in the play. Both are sophomores, both are cute, both are popular. Both played on the volleyball team, one is the head cheerleader. They made it pretty clear in the beginning that they just wanted bonus points. Being short on available students, I figured what the heck...holding bonus points over them would make them do it.
My Titania was an anime-loving, cos-playing theatre newbie. She is a senior who loves Spongebob, the Beatles, and wigs and is a really awesome kid. Trying out, then committing to the part is not something she would have done two years ago. In fact, if I hadn't harassed her every day for a month, she may not have joined, either. I think she did it to get me to leave her alone.
Titania, Moth, and Starveling (I didn't have enough boys available, so Starveling was my head cheerleader) normally have nothing to do with each other. One group is too cool for life, the other is happy just to be herself. Titania wanted to wear a wig as part of her costume. She debated between a pink and a blue for a while, then decided on the pink, then chickened out and went with a long, dark brown wig with a funky cut. (Good funky, not bad funky.) She brought a bag full of wigs, including one she was donating to the department to school one day. It was a half day, and I went to nuke my lunch. As I was walking out of the room, I heard one of the sophomores say in a derisive tone, "Why do you have so many wigs?" There was a glance between Moth and Starveling. I knew Titania would hold her own, so I let it be. My lunch finished heating, and I walked back to my room, only to find Titania, Moth, and Starveling all wearing wigs and laughing and giggling together. They ate lunch in their wigs. After lunch, they returned the wigs to Titania. I heard Moth say, "Man...I think I want wigs now. Those are fun!" Starveling echoed her sentiments saying, "I want to do this every day!" And Titania just smiled and said, "Now you get why I have them?" The other two looked sheepish and said, "Yeah."
I related this story to my husband that night, and he said, "You just had Glee in your classroom." I looked at him quizzically. "You had your head cheerleader, another girl who is popular, too, and both of them are jocks. Your Oberon and your Snout are both jocks. You have your creative arts school kid as Puck, your quiet 8th grade sweet girls, your student council officers, and your kids who aren't normally involved in anything, plus your wig-wearing anime girl, and they just learned to do something together, to appreciate something they previously scoffed at. It's just like Glee."
You wanna talk glee? I lived it for the next few days. Thank you, theatre, for giving kids a chance to see into each others' worlds and to learn to appreciate each other and to get along.
It's been almost 2 weeks since the play. Moth and Starveling are more tolerant of kids in their class. They smile at me in the halls and answer when I say hello. They're no longer too cool. I mean, they get frustrated sometimes, but I heard Moth stick up for a kid this morning while they were working on their exam projects, and she normally tormented that kid. Let's hope they keep some of this and use it.
I directed my first school play earlier this month, and it was an amazing experience I want to repeat, but not any time in teh very immediate future. Next fall is better, haha.
Anyway, I had a large cast: 19 kids. 3 non-speaking parts, 3 tiny parts, the rest had several to plenty of lines. Ambitious, I know. Lesson learned. I teach in a school with about 115 kids from 8th to 12th grade. The coolest part of teaching in a small school? Everyone is involved in everything. The worst part of teaching in a small school? Everyone is involved in everything. I worked out time shares with the basketball, cheerleading, volleyball, and dance team coaches, as well as had to deal with the wrestling, volleyball, cross country, dance team, cheerleading, and basketball practice and game schedules, as well as work in the bowling team meets, which outweighed all of that, because that's my other after-school commitment, haha.Oh, and I had a student who attends our school half day and a creative arts school in the afternoon. WHEW. As you can see, I had athletic, popular, theatre, and artsy kids, as well as student council kids and kids who had never done anything like this before to juggle. As we all know from movies and TV shows, the jocks and the artsy kids and the student council kids and all of that never overlap in larger schools, and, well, the same is actually true in small schools, too.
We did a modern-language one-act adaptation of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" by Shakespeare, chosen because I also had to teach the real story in my sophomore English class this quarter. As usual, I offered bonus points to my students who were in the play or worked back stage. Two girls decided that if they could get bonus points, then maybe they could put up with being in the play. Both are sophomores, both are cute, both are popular. Both played on the volleyball team, one is the head cheerleader. They made it pretty clear in the beginning that they just wanted bonus points. Being short on available students, I figured what the heck...holding bonus points over them would make them do it.
My Titania was an anime-loving, cos-playing theatre newbie. She is a senior who loves Spongebob, the Beatles, and wigs and is a really awesome kid. Trying out, then committing to the part is not something she would have done two years ago. In fact, if I hadn't harassed her every day for a month, she may not have joined, either. I think she did it to get me to leave her alone.
Titania, Moth, and Starveling (I didn't have enough boys available, so Starveling was my head cheerleader) normally have nothing to do with each other. One group is too cool for life, the other is happy just to be herself. Titania wanted to wear a wig as part of her costume. She debated between a pink and a blue for a while, then decided on the pink, then chickened out and went with a long, dark brown wig with a funky cut. (Good funky, not bad funky.) She brought a bag full of wigs, including one she was donating to the department to school one day. It was a half day, and I went to nuke my lunch. As I was walking out of the room, I heard one of the sophomores say in a derisive tone, "Why do you have so many wigs?" There was a glance between Moth and Starveling. I knew Titania would hold her own, so I let it be. My lunch finished heating, and I walked back to my room, only to find Titania, Moth, and Starveling all wearing wigs and laughing and giggling together. They ate lunch in their wigs. After lunch, they returned the wigs to Titania. I heard Moth say, "Man...I think I want wigs now. Those are fun!" Starveling echoed her sentiments saying, "I want to do this every day!" And Titania just smiled and said, "Now you get why I have them?" The other two looked sheepish and said, "Yeah."
I related this story to my husband that night, and he said, "You just had Glee in your classroom." I looked at him quizzically. "You had your head cheerleader, another girl who is popular, too, and both of them are jocks. Your Oberon and your Snout are both jocks. You have your creative arts school kid as Puck, your quiet 8th grade sweet girls, your student council officers, and your kids who aren't normally involved in anything, plus your wig-wearing anime girl, and they just learned to do something together, to appreciate something they previously scoffed at. It's just like Glee."
You wanna talk glee? I lived it for the next few days. Thank you, theatre, for giving kids a chance to see into each others' worlds and to learn to appreciate each other and to get along.
It's been almost 2 weeks since the play. Moth and Starveling are more tolerant of kids in their class. They smile at me in the halls and answer when I say hello. They're no longer too cool. I mean, they get frustrated sometimes, but I heard Moth stick up for a kid this morning while they were working on their exam projects, and she normally tormented that kid. Let's hope they keep some of this and use it.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
And it cost me a FORTUNE...
Being a big "Peanuts" fan this year I got one of the two-foot replicas of Charlie Brown's Christmas Tree to set up on the back counter in my classroom. I set it up this morning and I got some nice comments from my first class. It was there all during class, and with about five minutes left in my second hour, one of the kids finally noticed it.
"Hey, Mr. B!" he said. "Your tree looks kind of scrawny!"
"You've got to be kidding me," I said. "One of you guys has to know where that tree is from."
One of the smarter kids in class got it. "That's Charlie Brown's tree!"
"Right," I confirmed.
A third kid looked at it, kind of puzzled, then he turned to me and asked, in all seriousness, "Is that the real one from the TV show?"
"Hey, Mr. B!" he said. "Your tree looks kind of scrawny!"
"You've got to be kidding me," I said. "One of you guys has to know where that tree is from."
One of the smarter kids in class got it. "That's Charlie Brown's tree!"
"Right," I confirmed.
A third kid looked at it, kind of puzzled, then he turned to me and asked, in all seriousness, "Is that the real one from the TV show?"
Friday, November 13, 2009
Pranked!
I was out sick on Wednesday. On Thursday, one of my sophomores greeted me with, "Hey, don't freak out, but you're going to notice that one of your staplers is missing. I have it, and it's safe, and you'll get it back tomorrow. I can't tell you why, but you'll understand it when you see it."
I figured he borrowed it for a project. I taught him as a 7th grader and an 8th grader, I teach him now, and he's in my play, so I know him pretty well. He's a good kid. Funny, too.
Then I thought....maybe he's Bedazzling it or decorating it or something. It's a documented fact that I am a sucker for cool office supplies. I wasn't too worried, especially since he said, "And don't worry, it's not your red Swingline. It's the other one."
When I pulled into the parking lot today, I saw him walking up with something in his hands, but I couldn't see it. He had an odd look on his face, then turned and walked with his back to me. I was convinced that he was trying to avoid my glance because maybe he was skipping out on rehearsals. I went to put my purse away before going on morning duty, and got stopped by about 4 different kids. Some were legit, I think. One was painfully and obviously trying to delay me. I saw the kid walk past me at the crossroad in the hall followed by two other kids and a teacher, and still thought nothing of it. They let me get to my room, and one girl said, "I hope you believe in good luck on Friday the 13th!"
I opened my door and they trailed in after me (subtle, guys....realllll subtle....) but I saw nothing wrong at first. Then I turned to my desk and saw a large green gelatinous dome. With my missing stapler in it.
Flashback a few weeks, and the kid and I were talking about funny things we've seen on TV. I said, "I still say that one of the funniest things I've ever seen was on the first episode of 'The Office' when they put Dwight's stapler in the Jell-O mold and he opens the drawer and discovers it." The kid replied with, "What would you do if that happened to you?" My reply? "So long as it wasn't my red Swingline, I'd probably laugh my head off."
I set myself up, then completely forgot I'd done it. For the record, yeah. I laughed my head off.
Epic win, child. Epic win.
I figured he borrowed it for a project. I taught him as a 7th grader and an 8th grader, I teach him now, and he's in my play, so I know him pretty well. He's a good kid. Funny, too.
Then I thought....maybe he's Bedazzling it or decorating it or something. It's a documented fact that I am a sucker for cool office supplies. I wasn't too worried, especially since he said, "And don't worry, it's not your red Swingline. It's the other one."
When I pulled into the parking lot today, I saw him walking up with something in his hands, but I couldn't see it. He had an odd look on his face, then turned and walked with his back to me. I was convinced that he was trying to avoid my glance because maybe he was skipping out on rehearsals. I went to put my purse away before going on morning duty, and got stopped by about 4 different kids. Some were legit, I think. One was painfully and obviously trying to delay me. I saw the kid walk past me at the crossroad in the hall followed by two other kids and a teacher, and still thought nothing of it. They let me get to my room, and one girl said, "I hope you believe in good luck on Friday the 13th!"
I opened my door and they trailed in after me (subtle, guys....realllll subtle....) but I saw nothing wrong at first. Then I turned to my desk and saw a large green gelatinous dome. With my missing stapler in it.
Flashback a few weeks, and the kid and I were talking about funny things we've seen on TV. I said, "I still say that one of the funniest things I've ever seen was on the first episode of 'The Office' when they put Dwight's stapler in the Jell-O mold and he opens the drawer and discovers it." The kid replied with, "What would you do if that happened to you?" My reply? "So long as it wasn't my red Swingline, I'd probably laugh my head off."
I set myself up, then completely forgot I'd done it. For the record, yeah. I laughed my head off.
Epic win, child. Epic win.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Grading the teacher?
Report cards went home today. In anticipation of this most wonderful/agonizing day, one of my sophomores, who I taught as a 7th and 8th grader, decided he wants to give me a daily grade. He's a pretty goofy kid. He started this on standardized test day. Which was irritating. And consisted of my having a mysterious throat infection. I was mildly amused by this, since he's a pretty goofy kid and all.
"Ms. M., today I'd have to say your grade is an 'F.'"
I'd say a C- that day, maybe a D+, personally, because I just wasn't myself.
I told him, "Gee, thanks."
He said, "Yeah. As in, "FREAKIN' AWESOME!"
Yesssss....
Today, I didn't have that class. He gave me a B. Not sure why.
************************************************************
Last period today was my journalism seniors. I had to hand out their report cards. One kid kept taking his from the pile and putting it on top.Just to annoy me. I put it on the bottom to annoy him back, and slowly handed out all of the others. He picked up a witch hat that was being used in my partner's art class earlier in the week, and put it on my head.
"You have to wear this the rest of the day. Because that's pretty much what you are."
Haha. I love seniors and sophomores.
"Ms. M., today I'd have to say your grade is an 'F.'"
I'd say a C- that day, maybe a D+, personally, because I just wasn't myself.
I told him, "Gee, thanks."
He said, "Yeah. As in, "FREAKIN' AWESOME!"
Yesssss....
Today, I didn't have that class. He gave me a B. Not sure why.
************************************************************
Last period today was my journalism seniors. I had to hand out their report cards. One kid kept taking his from the pile and putting it on top.Just to annoy me. I put it on the bottom to annoy him back, and slowly handed out all of the others. He picked up a witch hat that was being used in my partner's art class earlier in the week, and put it on my head.
"You have to wear this the rest of the day. Because that's pretty much what you are."
Haha. I love seniors and sophomores.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
This girl...
Remember my teacher friend who loves animals, teaches science, and was the intended recipient of Boney the Cat last year? She experienced round 2 today.
Her exam portfolio included her 8th graders making models of habitats for the endangered animals each child researched. One girl finished hers at home (which she wasn't supposed to do) and brought it in this morning. Her animal was a sloth. She brought in a little aquarium-type habitat filled with plants, foam animals, and something that sorta looked like a sloth. She also had two fighting fish. In plastic bags. Dead. Stinky. Wanted water to add to the habitat so she could add the fish to it.
She went next door to the principal's office, interrupted a meeting, and relayed the story. Two of the people in the meeting said simultaneously, "Why do kids always want to bring you dead animals?"
She made the girl flush her fish. Apparently, she'd purchased them for this project.
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Same child....
This child is not as dumb as the previous story makes her seem. She's too smart for her own good, unless it comes to making a model habitat. Or transporting/caring for fish.
She does, however, have more attitude in her pinky finger than the rest of the school combined.
She burst into the learning center on Monday wearing one shoe while brandishing the other. That shoe was covered in meat sauce. She yelled at the vice principal and guidance counselor, "You know I don't like people using attitude on me." This was said with much head bobbing and shaking of the meat-sauce-laden shoe. The VP stopped her and said, "Have you ever heard of the saying, 'the pot calling the kettle black?'" She hadn't, and VP gave her a quick lesson on the meaning. This child, "Stevette," has been at our school since middle school, as has the child she's about to discuss. They are not in the same class this year, but may have been last year. There are only 20 8th graders total, by the way.
Stevette: Well, you know that girl, she's in 8th grade...I don't know her name though....but she's the one that walks around like she's better than everyone else, and she's a triflin' ho?
GC: You mean, Stevette Jones?
Stevette: (Ignores this statement)
Through discussion, and lecturing on the use of the term "triflin' ho," the VP and GC figure out that she's talking about a decent student who is just very, very quiet named "Melissa."
Apparently, Melissa and Stevette got up to throw away their trash at the same time. Melissa either missed the trash or had her lunch fall off the trash...not really sure. Either way, her plate, filled with meat sauce, missed the can, landed on the floor, and coated Stevette's shoe.
Stevette: "And I said to her, 'Aren't you gonna clean that up?' and she said 'No' and walked away!! You need to go get her and make her clean this!!"
VP: "Stevette, if it had happened the other way around, and you spilled something on Melissa's shoe, would you have cleaned it up?"
Stevette: "No."
VP: "I appreciate your honesty, but since you wouldn't clean Melissa's shoe, Melissa will not clean your shoe."
Stevette proceeds to freak out over Melissa not being in trouble.
VP mentions that they will speak to Melissa about not leaving messes on the cafeteria floor, but that they will not do anything about her not cleaning Stevette's shoe.
Stevette: Well, who's gonna clean my shoe?!?!?!!?!
VP and GC: You are. (They return to their conversation, Stevette storms off angrily mumbling.)
Her exam portfolio included her 8th graders making models of habitats for the endangered animals each child researched. One girl finished hers at home (which she wasn't supposed to do) and brought it in this morning. Her animal was a sloth. She brought in a little aquarium-type habitat filled with plants, foam animals, and something that sorta looked like a sloth. She also had two fighting fish. In plastic bags. Dead. Stinky. Wanted water to add to the habitat so she could add the fish to it.
She went next door to the principal's office, interrupted a meeting, and relayed the story. Two of the people in the meeting said simultaneously, "Why do kids always want to bring you dead animals?"
She made the girl flush her fish. Apparently, she'd purchased them for this project.
**********************************************************************************
Same child....
This child is not as dumb as the previous story makes her seem. She's too smart for her own good, unless it comes to making a model habitat. Or transporting/caring for fish.
She does, however, have more attitude in her pinky finger than the rest of the school combined.
She burst into the learning center on Monday wearing one shoe while brandishing the other. That shoe was covered in meat sauce. She yelled at the vice principal and guidance counselor, "You know I don't like people using attitude on me." This was said with much head bobbing and shaking of the meat-sauce-laden shoe. The VP stopped her and said, "Have you ever heard of the saying, 'the pot calling the kettle black?'" She hadn't, and VP gave her a quick lesson on the meaning. This child, "Stevette," has been at our school since middle school, as has the child she's about to discuss. They are not in the same class this year, but may have been last year. There are only 20 8th graders total, by the way.
Stevette: Well, you know that girl, she's in 8th grade...I don't know her name though....but she's the one that walks around like she's better than everyone else, and she's a triflin' ho?
GC: You mean, Stevette Jones?
Stevette: (Ignores this statement)
Through discussion, and lecturing on the use of the term "triflin' ho," the VP and GC figure out that she's talking about a decent student who is just very, very quiet named "Melissa."
Apparently, Melissa and Stevette got up to throw away their trash at the same time. Melissa either missed the trash or had her lunch fall off the trash...not really sure. Either way, her plate, filled with meat sauce, missed the can, landed on the floor, and coated Stevette's shoe.
Stevette: "And I said to her, 'Aren't you gonna clean that up?' and she said 'No' and walked away!! You need to go get her and make her clean this!!"
VP: "Stevette, if it had happened the other way around, and you spilled something on Melissa's shoe, would you have cleaned it up?"
Stevette: "No."
VP: "I appreciate your honesty, but since you wouldn't clean Melissa's shoe, Melissa will not clean your shoe."
Stevette proceeds to freak out over Melissa not being in trouble.
VP mentions that they will speak to Melissa about not leaving messes on the cafeteria floor, but that they will not do anything about her not cleaning Stevette's shoe.
Stevette: Well, who's gonna clean my shoe?!?!?!!?!
VP and GC: You are. (They return to their conversation, Stevette storms off angrily mumbling.)
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Snippets
We're experimenting with portfolios in lieu of exams. I have mixed feelings. Mostly because I think grading and preparing exams is way easier than a portfolio.
Anyway, I was going over requirements with my English II class (sophomores): Choose 6 of the 12 pieces you've done this quarter. Write a 1-paragraph reflection, if you will, on why each particular piece belongs in your portfolio. Prepare to present and defend next week during the appointed exam time. How long am I requiring each paragraph to be? FIVE sentences. I got as far as "one paragraph for each..." before they flipped out on me. My maturity shield dropped immediately, and I mocked them. "OHHH MY GOHHHHHHHHHHHD....my English teacher is making me wriiiiiite!!! OHHH MY GOHHHHHHHHHHHD...my English teacher is making me do worrrrrrk!!! OHHH MY GOHHHHHHHHHHHD...I have to write in English classsssss!!! OHHH MY GOHHHHHHHHHHHD... instead of making us study and take a long test with at least 50 questions on it, most of which are short answer, my English teacher is making me take stuff I've already written and write 5 tiny sentences about each of the 6 poemmmmmmmmzzzzzzzz!!!!" I got as far as one more "OHHH MY GOHHHHHHHHHHHD..." when one of them went, "ALL RIGHT! We GET IT! STOP!" I then put it to a vote after telling them that I could throw out the portfolio and make them a test...I already have one started for right after exam week is over (these portfolios have many down sides to them....as well as many upsides...) and they could just have a traditional exam. I made them vote; one kid wanted an exam while the rest wanted the portfolios. No more whining. I WIN!
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A teacher who uses my room during my off-period was teaching financial math today and told the kids that in order to figure out how much they would probably pay in taxes, they had to take their anal incomes.....and that was as far as he got.
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Seniors were hyped up all day. They had a sub first period and watched a movie in that class. Then their teacher discussed anal income. at lunch, the big/little brothers and sisters had an ice cream social. And then they got to journalism with me. My co-teacher friend tried to feed into it while wrangling them at the same time: she played "Simon Says" with them. It was brilliant. They got out some energy, and the last two things she said were, "Simon say take a seat.....Simon says do your work without complaining." And one of the kids yelled out, "Simon SUCKS!"
**********************************************************************************
Yesterday, another friend, who is one of the kindest, calmest teachers I've ever seen, was verbally abused by a student. Richard didn't understand something, and Laine offered to help him out. Things started out well, until Laine couldn't remember the website address Richard needed to use. He said, "It's on your instruction sheet, Richard. Get your instruction sheet." Richard yelled out, "Just tell me the damned website!!!!" Ms. Ford said, "I'm sorry, Richard, but that sort of language is not allowed in my class." She calmly took out a write-up form and checked off "Inappropriate language" with the punishment only as having the write-up signed. No detentions or anything were attached to it. Richard yelled out, "This is civics class, and you are violating my first amendment rights!!!" Um...two things: 1. first amendment does not actually guarantee free speech. For instance, one may not yell "fire!" in a crowded theater. 2. When you go to school, you sorta forfeit a lot of rights...like the right to wear your hair and clothing however you wish...and many others.
Anyway, he let out a torrent of f-bombs and s-bombs, and she calmly switched the infraction to "severe inappropriate language" and attached an after-school detention to it. Richard them yelled "F-bomb you, B-bomb!!!" He was removed to guidance for the rest of the afternoon and served an in-school suspension today.
Anyway, I was going over requirements with my English II class (sophomores): Choose 6 of the 12 pieces you've done this quarter. Write a 1-paragraph reflection, if you will, on why each particular piece belongs in your portfolio. Prepare to present and defend next week during the appointed exam time. How long am I requiring each paragraph to be? FIVE sentences. I got as far as "one paragraph for each..." before they flipped out on me. My maturity shield dropped immediately, and I mocked them. "OHHH MY GOHHHHHHHHHHHD....my English teacher is making me wriiiiiite!!! OHHH MY GOHHHHHHHHHHHD...my English teacher is making me do worrrrrrk!!! OHHH MY GOHHHHHHHHHHHD...I have to write in English classsssss!!! OHHH MY GOHHHHHHHHHHHD... instead of making us study and take a long test with at least 50 questions on it, most of which are short answer, my English teacher is making me take stuff I've already written and write 5 tiny sentences about each of the 6 poemmmmmmmmzzzzzzzz!!!!" I got as far as one more "OHHH MY GOHHHHHHHHHHHD..." when one of them went, "ALL RIGHT! We GET IT! STOP!" I then put it to a vote after telling them that I could throw out the portfolio and make them a test...I already have one started for right after exam week is over (these portfolios have many down sides to them....as well as many upsides...) and they could just have a traditional exam. I made them vote; one kid wanted an exam while the rest wanted the portfolios. No more whining. I WIN!
***********************************************************************************
A teacher who uses my room during my off-period was teaching financial math today and told the kids that in order to figure out how much they would probably pay in taxes, they had to take their anal incomes.....and that was as far as he got.
**********************************************************************************
Seniors were hyped up all day. They had a sub first period and watched a movie in that class. Then their teacher discussed anal income. at lunch, the big/little brothers and sisters had an ice cream social. And then they got to journalism with me. My co-teacher friend tried to feed into it while wrangling them at the same time: she played "Simon Says" with them. It was brilliant. They got out some energy, and the last two things she said were, "Simon say take a seat.....Simon says do your work without complaining." And one of the kids yelled out, "Simon SUCKS!"
**********************************************************************************
Yesterday, another friend, who is one of the kindest, calmest teachers I've ever seen, was verbally abused by a student. Richard didn't understand something, and Laine offered to help him out. Things started out well, until Laine couldn't remember the website address Richard needed to use. He said, "It's on your instruction sheet, Richard. Get your instruction sheet." Richard yelled out, "Just tell me the damned website!!!!" Ms. Ford said, "I'm sorry, Richard, but that sort of language is not allowed in my class." She calmly took out a write-up form and checked off "Inappropriate language" with the punishment only as having the write-up signed. No detentions or anything were attached to it. Richard yelled out, "This is civics class, and you are violating my first amendment rights!!!" Um...two things: 1. first amendment does not actually guarantee free speech. For instance, one may not yell "fire!" in a crowded theater. 2. When you go to school, you sorta forfeit a lot of rights...like the right to wear your hair and clothing however you wish...and many others.
Anyway, he let out a torrent of f-bombs and s-bombs, and she calmly switched the infraction to "severe inappropriate language" and attached an after-school detention to it. Richard them yelled "F-bomb you, B-bomb!!!" He was removed to guidance for the rest of the afternoon and served an in-school suspension today.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
I don't care if she has her own clothing line. It's not my style!!!
So one of my seniors today stopped me as I was moving to my off-period and said, "You're always wearing the cutest outfits, Ms. M." Awwww....
I was wearing a khaki skirt with a white blouse with an attached light and navy blue striped...well...sweater vest....sorta....thingy. And cute flats.
Just as I was thanking her, she finished with, "And I just LOVE that Ellen DeGeneres-looking sweater you have on!!!!"
Not gonna wear THIS again....
I was wearing a khaki skirt with a white blouse with an attached light and navy blue striped...well...sweater vest....sorta....thingy. And cute flats.
Just as I was thanking her, she finished with, "And I just LOVE that Ellen DeGeneres-looking sweater you have on!!!!"
Not gonna wear THIS again....
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Earning accreditation
Had our first SACS accreditation meeting today... with the following handout done by the Vice Principal:
Students on SACS:
"Doesn't that mean we get out of school early?"
"Isn't that when all of the teachers go crazy?"
"I thought we weren't supposed to talk about that in school."
Teachers on SACS:
"What a headache."
"Ugh. long meetings."
"I thought we weren't supposed to talk about that in school."
Students on SACS:
"Doesn't that mean we get out of school early?"
"Isn't that when all of the teachers go crazy?"
"I thought we weren't supposed to talk about that in school."
Teachers on SACS:
"What a headache."
"Ugh. long meetings."
"I thought we weren't supposed to talk about that in school."
Monday, September 14, 2009
A Pep Rally Two-Fer
With high school football season underway, on Fridays we're on a pep rally schedule at our school. The ceremonies begin during the last class of the day, when the marching band actually marches through the hallways, playing the fight song and other numbers to jazz the students up. The problem with this, of course, is that after the band leaves and before the students are actually called to the gym, it's impossible to keep them settled down. After the band came through on Friday, I was trying to give the students a reminder about a writing assignment that was due the next week when I heard a furious knocking at my door. As I walked to open it, one of my students shouted, "DON'T OPEN THAT! HE'S GOING TO SHOOT YOU!"
I scowled at him. "That's not funny, Jim. You don't even JOKE about something like that..."
As I'm scolding the kid for making an inappropriate joke, I open the door and two of my fellow TEACHERS race by my door holding laser pointers, with which they "shot" me, making zapping noises.
Yes, I apologized to Jim.
The band and cheerleaders help us through our mascot: T! I! G! E! R! S!
As we're cheering, I notice one of my students who's been struggling -- honestly trying, but struggling -- cheering along. So I decide I'm going to pick on him just a little. As the song ends, I go up to him and say, "Kevin, it makes me feel good to hear you spelling something right."
Kevin smiled, and said with total sincerity, "I said 'J' instead of 'G'."
I scowled at him. "That's not funny, Jim. You don't even JOKE about something like that..."
As I'm scolding the kid for making an inappropriate joke, I open the door and two of my fellow TEACHERS race by my door holding laser pointers, with which they "shot" me, making zapping noises.
Yes, I apologized to Jim.
* * *
It's important to know how to relate not just to kids in general, but to specific kids. Some kids will take every thing you say personally. Others -- especially the high school boys -- actually respond better if you jibe them a little once in a while. As the pep rally ended, we closed with "The Horse." As every high school student and teacher in America knows, this song includes a segment where you are required to spell out the name of your mascot. (How schools with a mascot like the Banana Slugs handle it is beyond me...)The band and cheerleaders help us through our mascot: T! I! G! E! R! S!
As we're cheering, I notice one of my students who's been struggling -- honestly trying, but struggling -- cheering along. So I decide I'm going to pick on him just a little. As the song ends, I go up to him and say, "Kevin, it makes me feel good to hear you spelling something right."
Kevin smiled, and said with total sincerity, "I said 'J' instead of 'G'."
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Thiiiiiis is why I do it...
I have a degree in journalism, and while I loved my art, it didn't satisfy me. I had worked with children since I was a young teen, and I thought kids were pretty cool. Why not use my journalistic knowledge to teach writing? Might as well throw in some Shakespeare, or classics, or women's lit in there while I'm at it and be an English teacher, right?
And so I am. There are days when a kid threatens to throw a desk at me, days when parents seem reluctant to help their children succeed, policies I haven't totally agreed with, and those kids who just slip through the cracks and have a dark, uncertain future, no matter how hard you try to save them. I had one of each of those last year, and there were many days when I went, "WHY do I do this for this little money again?"
But this year...this year is different. It is my best year of teaching, believe it or not, since my first year when I had an amazing class. The biggest, most disastrous event of my life happened that first year, and it was still a million times better than my 4th year. I spent much of last year disgruntled, but this year is so different. I'm...blissful, dare I say it.
One of the things that leads to this bliss is teaching journalism for the first time. I've always run media club, but this is the first time I get it as a course. I'm co-teaching with a friend of mine, which makes it even better. I'm the writer, she's the photo artist. We're a perfect blend.
Our class is a dozen seniors, all with learning differences. Some have a difference as small as ADHD, others have Asperger's, most have written language difficulties.
Most of them were 8th graders back in that first year. Some of them were in my very first class. Maybe they just hold very special places in my heart automatically.
Barely any of them can write well, let alone read. And yet, we've made them LOVE journalism. None of them chose this elective; they were thrown into it.
Maybe it's the crazy stories I tell from my days as a journalism student and professional to illustrate how and why procedures and rules of journalism exist. Maybe it's the two teachers who love their art forms and are friends outside of the classroom. Maybe it's a good time of day. They have only study hall after us, and homeroom and lunch before us...no pressure. Maybe it's the loose structure that every journalism class has. Maybe it's the do what you love and love what you do atmosphere we're setting up. Maybe it's the little perks, like knowing what happens first, and the press passes I'm making for them. Maybe it's Groovy Friday, our new tradition wherein we play music (Michael Jackson, Women of the '80s, old school hip hop, classic rock....) while they work on Fridays if they've been good all week. Maybe it's a budding of school pride. Maybe it's the way we praise them for almost everything they come up with. Maybe our enthusiasm is just that infectious. Whatever it is, they are loving it.
Whatever it is, it is an amazing sight.
We announced our editorial board this week, and our editor and managing editor are true leaders. One is quiet with a dry sense of humor and is student body president. The other is, well, the kitten in the kangaroo pocket girl in the entry below this one. Both are goofy and easy-going, and seem to be taking their jobs seriously. I was so proud of them. They handled one moody student very well at first, were encouraging, and the girl didn't want that. But they worked better with her today than they have in the past. Our photo editor spent a lot of time quietly working to sort through ID photos, rename them, and sort them into grade-level folders. They excitedly scheduled interviews, some even snagged their first ones today! Our news editor is probably going to snag an interview with the new Archbishop. WOW! Who would have thought that one of our kids could do that, huh, naysayers? Some of them even gave up study hall to finish some work. Study hall, last period on a Friday, where they probably were just hanging out, and they chose to come to work.
I didn't want class to end today. Of course, it was also Groovy Friday.
But it made me remember, "Oh yeah. THIS is why I do this."
And so I am. There are days when a kid threatens to throw a desk at me, days when parents seem reluctant to help their children succeed, policies I haven't totally agreed with, and those kids who just slip through the cracks and have a dark, uncertain future, no matter how hard you try to save them. I had one of each of those last year, and there were many days when I went, "WHY do I do this for this little money again?"
But this year...this year is different. It is my best year of teaching, believe it or not, since my first year when I had an amazing class. The biggest, most disastrous event of my life happened that first year, and it was still a million times better than my 4th year. I spent much of last year disgruntled, but this year is so different. I'm...blissful, dare I say it.
One of the things that leads to this bliss is teaching journalism for the first time. I've always run media club, but this is the first time I get it as a course. I'm co-teaching with a friend of mine, which makes it even better. I'm the writer, she's the photo artist. We're a perfect blend.
Our class is a dozen seniors, all with learning differences. Some have a difference as small as ADHD, others have Asperger's, most have written language difficulties.
Most of them were 8th graders back in that first year. Some of them were in my very first class. Maybe they just hold very special places in my heart automatically.
Barely any of them can write well, let alone read. And yet, we've made them LOVE journalism. None of them chose this elective; they were thrown into it.
Maybe it's the crazy stories I tell from my days as a journalism student and professional to illustrate how and why procedures and rules of journalism exist. Maybe it's the two teachers who love their art forms and are friends outside of the classroom. Maybe it's a good time of day. They have only study hall after us, and homeroom and lunch before us...no pressure. Maybe it's the loose structure that every journalism class has. Maybe it's the do what you love and love what you do atmosphere we're setting up. Maybe it's the little perks, like knowing what happens first, and the press passes I'm making for them. Maybe it's Groovy Friday, our new tradition wherein we play music (Michael Jackson, Women of the '80s, old school hip hop, classic rock....) while they work on Fridays if they've been good all week. Maybe it's a budding of school pride. Maybe it's the way we praise them for almost everything they come up with. Maybe our enthusiasm is just that infectious. Whatever it is, they are loving it.
Whatever it is, it is an amazing sight.
We announced our editorial board this week, and our editor and managing editor are true leaders. One is quiet with a dry sense of humor and is student body president. The other is, well, the kitten in the kangaroo pocket girl in the entry below this one. Both are goofy and easy-going, and seem to be taking their jobs seriously. I was so proud of them. They handled one moody student very well at first, were encouraging, and the girl didn't want that. But they worked better with her today than they have in the past. Our photo editor spent a lot of time quietly working to sort through ID photos, rename them, and sort them into grade-level folders. They excitedly scheduled interviews, some even snagged their first ones today! Our news editor is probably going to snag an interview with the new Archbishop. WOW! Who would have thought that one of our kids could do that, huh, naysayers? Some of them even gave up study hall to finish some work. Study hall, last period on a Friday, where they probably were just hanging out, and they chose to come to work.
I didn't want class to end today. Of course, it was also Groovy Friday.
But it made me remember, "Oh yeah. THIS is why I do this."
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Is that a kitten in your sweatshirt, or are you just happy to see me?
When I first started working at my school, it was mandatory to have a class pet. This carried over from the grammar school which feeds us, and it was not uncommon to have a kid walk up holding a snake while he talked to you.
Thankfully, this practice has died out.
Anyway, in my second year of teaching, one of my students, who was then a freshman (now a senior), walked into my room. "Ms. M, I have something to show you, but you have to promise not to freak out."
This is always a fun way to begin a conversation. I gave the standard, "Feel free to tell me, but if someone is being hurt in some way, or if it is illegal, I do have to report it," line.
She said neither, and pulled out what I thought was a guinea pig from the kangaroo pocket of her school sweatshirt. Then I looked closer and saw it was a kitten whose little eyes hadn't even opened yet. And then she pulled out another.
She and a friend found a litter with no mother by it. Presumably, the mother was feeding or using the outdoor facilities. So what did they do? Snuck them into school in their sweatshirt pockets.
I freaked, understandably, and asked what her plans were for the kitten. She said she wanted to keep one, and her friend was going to keep the other. They knew the kittens were too young to survive on their own, so they were just going to smuggle them into school each day. She was going to give her milk carton to the kittens at lunch in the bathroom and rub their rear ends with toilet paper to make them use the rest room because "the mother licks them on the butt to make them go." I blurted out something about cats being lactose intolerant, and that I'd never heard of the tp thing, and ohmygodyoubetternotgetcaught!!!
The more I thought about it, the more concerned I was for these kittens, who never should have left their mother. I got some animal-loving teachers, including one who used to foster animals, and we confiscated the kittens. We took a cardboard box, lined it with the sheets I stored in my cabinet to cover my bookcases and computers over the summer, and got the heat lamp from the iguana that was in the classroom across from mine. My friend, K, took the kittens home, and she and her sister hand-fed them every few hours. Her sister ended up adopting the cats, because the girls' mothers said they couldn't keep the kittens, and now these poor motherless babies would have no way to survive. Both kittens matured into lovely cats. One lives with the sister, while the other is an outdoor (fixed) cat.
The student left for sophomore and junior years, and returned for her senior year. When I saw her at book day, I said, "You know...we don't have kangaroo pocket sweatshirts any more. So, you're not going to be able to smuggle kittens in here any more!!" She cracked up, and now it's our joke...."And while you're at it, don't smuggle any kittens in here!"
Thankfully, this practice has died out.
Anyway, in my second year of teaching, one of my students, who was then a freshman (now a senior), walked into my room. "Ms. M, I have something to show you, but you have to promise not to freak out."
This is always a fun way to begin a conversation. I gave the standard, "Feel free to tell me, but if someone is being hurt in some way, or if it is illegal, I do have to report it," line.
She said neither, and pulled out what I thought was a guinea pig from the kangaroo pocket of her school sweatshirt. Then I looked closer and saw it was a kitten whose little eyes hadn't even opened yet. And then she pulled out another.
She and a friend found a litter with no mother by it. Presumably, the mother was feeding or using the outdoor facilities. So what did they do? Snuck them into school in their sweatshirt pockets.
I freaked, understandably, and asked what her plans were for the kitten. She said she wanted to keep one, and her friend was going to keep the other. They knew the kittens were too young to survive on their own, so they were just going to smuggle them into school each day. She was going to give her milk carton to the kittens at lunch in the bathroom and rub their rear ends with toilet paper to make them use the rest room because "the mother licks them on the butt to make them go." I blurted out something about cats being lactose intolerant, and that I'd never heard of the tp thing, and ohmygodyoubetternotgetcaught!!!
The more I thought about it, the more concerned I was for these kittens, who never should have left their mother. I got some animal-loving teachers, including one who used to foster animals, and we confiscated the kittens. We took a cardboard box, lined it with the sheets I stored in my cabinet to cover my bookcases and computers over the summer, and got the heat lamp from the iguana that was in the classroom across from mine. My friend, K, took the kittens home, and she and her sister hand-fed them every few hours. Her sister ended up adopting the cats, because the girls' mothers said they couldn't keep the kittens, and now these poor motherless babies would have no way to survive. Both kittens matured into lovely cats. One lives with the sister, while the other is an outdoor (fixed) cat.
The student left for sophomore and junior years, and returned for her senior year. When I saw her at book day, I said, "You know...we don't have kangaroo pocket sweatshirts any more. So, you're not going to be able to smuggle kittens in here any more!!" She cracked up, and now it's our joke...."And while you're at it, don't smuggle any kittens in here!"
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Apples and Trees Night '09!
I hate today. It happens once a year (I don't mean September 2...I have no qualms with the date), and I LOATHE it. It is Back-to-School Night. Remember those? Your grandparents probably babysat you, your parents ordered pizza to feed you, they showered early and got dressed up, and then you waited in agony to see what they would report when they got home after meeting all of your teachers. And you'd better be showered, powdered, and in bed (at the very least, pretending to sleep...) by the time they got home. If it was important, they'd wake you up.
Basically, the parents show up and follow their childrens' schedules. They meet the teachers, you hand the parents a syllabus, clarify a few things that their kids probably neglected to inform them ("They all need a binder to be kept in the room to compile artifacts for their end-of-quarter portfolios..." "BINDER!?!?!? SHE DIDN'T TELL ME THAT!"), give them your e-mail address, smile, grit your teeth when they try to hold a conference with you, and send them on the way all in a span of 7 minutes.
I like to call these nights, "Apples and Trees Night." Why? My mantra when dealing with children who are spacey, slow on the uptake, or rude, is "Apples and trees. Apples and trees."
Why? Because the apple doesn't fall far from the trees.That kid who blurts things out and rarely says anything that has to do with anything? Probably learned it from mom. The kid who talks to his friends all the time in class? Parents do it, too.
Tonight, I had a mom drag her daughter around all night, come to my class late, have me start over, sit and talk to her daughter in the back of the room while I spoke and parents turned around to glare at them, then raise her hand and yell, "Excuse me!" While I was explaining the criteria for my state history project...a bonus project. Bonus...as in....not mandatory!!!
I want them to go to state festivals and bring back artifacts...go to a strawberry festival? Bring in a strawberry. Go to a music festival? Bring in a T-shirt. I don't want to keep your stuff...you have to prove your attendance. Also? Take photos of yourself and your surroundings, then do a presentation to the class. All for a bonus grade. Mom interrupts, I put on a saccharine smile and say, "Yes ma'am, may I help you?" with every ounce of Southern Charm I can muster, and she says, "Can they just go to a museum instead?"
I couldn't really contain my laughter as I blurted out, "Uh, no!" I composed myself and said firmly, "The idea is to get them to travel the state and really experience what our great state has to offer. There are over 400 festivals in our state, some just across the street or down the block. Others are 6 hours away. This is not mandatory, but is a bonus. They can do it no more than twice a quarter. A museum is not going to give them that experience. If you look in her textbook, you will see an anecdote about a little girl who moves here from Arizona, and gets this same assignment from her teacher in order to acclimate herself to our history, culture, and customs. I based this project off that story."
She was not pleased, but, hello! We are experiential learners....you learn so much more in the midst of the experience than you do from breezing past a display in a museum because you don't want to take the time to read all of the placards.
Her daughter is the same way. I just thought, over and over, "Apples and Trees....Apples and Trees..." Now...let's just hope this makes me more tolerant of the daughter...
Basically, the parents show up and follow their childrens' schedules. They meet the teachers, you hand the parents a syllabus, clarify a few things that their kids probably neglected to inform them ("They all need a binder to be kept in the room to compile artifacts for their end-of-quarter portfolios..." "BINDER!?!?!? SHE DIDN'T TELL ME THAT!"), give them your e-mail address, smile, grit your teeth when they try to hold a conference with you, and send them on the way all in a span of 7 minutes.
I like to call these nights, "Apples and Trees Night." Why? My mantra when dealing with children who are spacey, slow on the uptake, or rude, is "Apples and trees. Apples and trees."
Why? Because the apple doesn't fall far from the trees.That kid who blurts things out and rarely says anything that has to do with anything? Probably learned it from mom. The kid who talks to his friends all the time in class? Parents do it, too.
Tonight, I had a mom drag her daughter around all night, come to my class late, have me start over, sit and talk to her daughter in the back of the room while I spoke and parents turned around to glare at them, then raise her hand and yell, "Excuse me!" While I was explaining the criteria for my state history project...a bonus project. Bonus...as in....not mandatory!!!
I want them to go to state festivals and bring back artifacts...go to a strawberry festival? Bring in a strawberry. Go to a music festival? Bring in a T-shirt. I don't want to keep your stuff...you have to prove your attendance. Also? Take photos of yourself and your surroundings, then do a presentation to the class. All for a bonus grade. Mom interrupts, I put on a saccharine smile and say, "Yes ma'am, may I help you?" with every ounce of Southern Charm I can muster, and she says, "Can they just go to a museum instead?"
I couldn't really contain my laughter as I blurted out, "Uh, no!" I composed myself and said firmly, "The idea is to get them to travel the state and really experience what our great state has to offer. There are over 400 festivals in our state, some just across the street or down the block. Others are 6 hours away. This is not mandatory, but is a bonus. They can do it no more than twice a quarter. A museum is not going to give them that experience. If you look in her textbook, you will see an anecdote about a little girl who moves here from Arizona, and gets this same assignment from her teacher in order to acclimate herself to our history, culture, and customs. I based this project off that story."
She was not pleased, but, hello! We are experiential learners....you learn so much more in the midst of the experience than you do from breezing past a display in a museum because you don't want to take the time to read all of the placards.
Her daughter is the same way. I just thought, over and over, "Apples and Trees....Apples and Trees..." Now...let's just hope this makes me more tolerant of the daughter...
And meet their kids, Radius and Ulna...
Before teaching Romeo and Juliet to my students, I always preface the unit with a lesson about the life of William Shakespeare. The quiz includes the question, "William's Shakespeare's wife: _____________"
The correct answer, of course, is "Anne Hathaway." (Yes, like the actress. No, she's not that old. Yes, more than one person can have the same name. Lunch is the same time as yesterday. Stop asking questions.) One year, while grading quizzes, one student had answered "ARM Hathaway."
I looked at this every way I could. Was I misreading it? Was her handwriting bad? No, this girl had a particularly neat handwriting. It wasn't blurred. The only possible conclusion was that she thought William Shakespeare's wife was, in fact, named after the upper limb of the human body.
I marked it wrong and continued grading, coming later to a quiz turned in by her friend, who sits nearby. She had the right answer, "Anne." But her penmanship was a little sloppier... a little messy... and if you squinted and looked at it from an angle (say, the angle of someone sitting in a nearby desk), you could possibly come to the conclusion that she had written "Arm" instead of "Anne."
This brings to mind the question of what is sadder, that this student felt the need to cheat on a quiz that was, in fact, open-notes, or the fact that she saw the word "Arm" and never questioned whether or not it would be a person's actual name.
The correct answer, of course, is "Anne Hathaway." (Yes, like the actress. No, she's not that old. Yes, more than one person can have the same name. Lunch is the same time as yesterday. Stop asking questions.) One year, while grading quizzes, one student had answered "ARM Hathaway."
I looked at this every way I could. Was I misreading it? Was her handwriting bad? No, this girl had a particularly neat handwriting. It wasn't blurred. The only possible conclusion was that she thought William Shakespeare's wife was, in fact, named after the upper limb of the human body.
I marked it wrong and continued grading, coming later to a quiz turned in by her friend, who sits nearby. She had the right answer, "Anne." But her penmanship was a little sloppier... a little messy... and if you squinted and looked at it from an angle (say, the angle of someone sitting in a nearby desk), you could possibly come to the conclusion that she had written "Arm" instead of "Anne."
This brings to mind the question of what is sadder, that this student felt the need to cheat on a quiz that was, in fact, open-notes, or the fact that she saw the word "Arm" and never questioned whether or not it would be a person's actual name.
Monday, August 31, 2009
They all laughed...
I am a confirmed Germaphobe. Whenever there is a reason for a student to portray me at school, a giant bottle of Germ-X always accompanies "me" on stage. I've been laughed at and laughed at for more years than I can count.
And now...it's everywhere. In the wake of the swine flu scare (it's the flu, people. Chill. Not that I want it, but it's not what you fear it to be. Regular old flu is way deadlier.), massive bottles of Germ-X, boxes of Clorox Wipes, rolls of paper towels, and antibiotic sprays have appeared in every classroom. Maintenance comes in during all of our scheduled off-periods to clean our rooms, which smell lovely.
Who's laughing now?
And now...it's everywhere. In the wake of the swine flu scare (it's the flu, people. Chill. Not that I want it, but it's not what you fear it to be. Regular old flu is way deadlier.), massive bottles of Germ-X, boxes of Clorox Wipes, rolls of paper towels, and antibiotic sprays have appeared in every classroom. Maintenance comes in during all of our scheduled off-periods to clean our rooms, which smell lovely.
Who's laughing now?
Sunday, August 30, 2009
When you're good, you're good... especially when one student tells you.
8th grade commencement in 2007 was one of my proudest moments in teaching:
At 8th grade graduation, we always select two students to give commencement addresses. It's always two kids who have been there for a while, one boy, one girl, and they must embody our school's mission. This year, I helped the male student, P, with his speech. It's so amazing, to come from him, to see how he has evolved since I first met him two years ago. I wanted to share it, because I'm so proud of it.
"My name is P. I promised my teachers this would not be a football story, but Ms. M [That would be me] said that if I could make a good, honest analogy between school and football, I could work it in. As a result, I would like to say that school is like a football game.
"School and football have more similarities than what you think. Your schoolmates are like your teammates, your teachers are your coaches, and Mr. Principal is the Commissioner. Just recently, my man, Brett Favre, (Best of all time) played 17 years in the NFL. You go to school, if you’re lucky enough, for 18 years. As I think winning games is being lucky, but putting in the work to succeed, I feel that finishing school is the same. In a football game, you have obstacles that you face, like a third and ten or a giant linebacker. In school, you also have obstacles like acing the tasks that get thrown at you.
"But when I look at school, when I look at football, and when I look at life, it’s all about going forward. You can’t go forward without making mistakes. When you work hard, you might take 5 steps forward, but you may end up having to take two steps back. In school, you might not get an A on every paper. You might put in the effort and put in the work, but you may come inches short of a first down. But then you get up, you get a new formation, and you try to attack the defense again. And you succeed.
"In his 17 years, Brett Favre saw a lot of wins and losses. He also saw players, coaches, and commissioners come and go. In my 6 years at Holy Rosary, I’ve seen a lot of wins and losses, and I’ve had my share of players, coaches, and commissioners come and go, too. Father T, Mr. B, and Mrs. P are three of those commissioners. Without their help and guidance, I would not be standing here today. With change comes growth and success. Father R and Mr. Principal have done an excellent job of leading our team to victory. Mrs. McN is our Brett Favre. She is retiring this year, like Brett, and I appreciate the special relationship we’ve had these last 6 years. I’ve also known Mrs. S for 6 years. I don’t know how she does it, but she’s the most mild-mannered person I’ve ever met. She’s taught me how to tolerate difficulties in school and life. I also want to thank Coach F for teaching me the way the game is supposed to be played. Even though I’ve only known Ms. M for 2 years, we’ve discovered a bond between us that can never be broken. Mrs. B, crazy Ms. B. This “child of God” would like to thank you for all of your patience and understanding. Ms. C, Mr. G, and Coach I, I’ve only known you for a few months, but I appreciate you just as much as Mrs. S and Ms. McN, who I’ve known for 6 years.
"D.B. and M.A. are the two teammates I’ve known the longest. I really want to thank them for their friendship and support during all of the success and falls I’ve taken over the years.
"I also would like to thank my family for their support and for teaching me to love school and football.
"I would like to end by telling everyone that we can win championships if we work together and stand by God. Thank you."
At 8th grade graduation, we always select two students to give commencement addresses. It's always two kids who have been there for a while, one boy, one girl, and they must embody our school's mission. This year, I helped the male student, P, with his speech. It's so amazing, to come from him, to see how he has evolved since I first met him two years ago. I wanted to share it, because I'm so proud of it.
"My name is P. I promised my teachers this would not be a football story, but Ms. M [That would be me] said that if I could make a good, honest analogy between school and football, I could work it in. As a result, I would like to say that school is like a football game.
"School and football have more similarities than what you think. Your schoolmates are like your teammates, your teachers are your coaches, and Mr. Principal is the Commissioner. Just recently, my man, Brett Favre, (Best of all time) played 17 years in the NFL. You go to school, if you’re lucky enough, for 18 years. As I think winning games is being lucky, but putting in the work to succeed, I feel that finishing school is the same. In a football game, you have obstacles that you face, like a third and ten or a giant linebacker. In school, you also have obstacles like acing the tasks that get thrown at you.
"But when I look at school, when I look at football, and when I look at life, it’s all about going forward. You can’t go forward without making mistakes. When you work hard, you might take 5 steps forward, but you may end up having to take two steps back. In school, you might not get an A on every paper. You might put in the effort and put in the work, but you may come inches short of a first down. But then you get up, you get a new formation, and you try to attack the defense again. And you succeed.
"In his 17 years, Brett Favre saw a lot of wins and losses. He also saw players, coaches, and commissioners come and go. In my 6 years at Holy Rosary, I’ve seen a lot of wins and losses, and I’ve had my share of players, coaches, and commissioners come and go, too. Father T, Mr. B, and Mrs. P are three of those commissioners. Without their help and guidance, I would not be standing here today. With change comes growth and success. Father R and Mr. Principal have done an excellent job of leading our team to victory. Mrs. McN is our Brett Favre. She is retiring this year, like Brett, and I appreciate the special relationship we’ve had these last 6 years. I’ve also known Mrs. S for 6 years. I don’t know how she does it, but she’s the most mild-mannered person I’ve ever met. She’s taught me how to tolerate difficulties in school and life. I also want to thank Coach F for teaching me the way the game is supposed to be played. Even though I’ve only known Ms. M for 2 years, we’ve discovered a bond between us that can never be broken. Mrs. B, crazy Ms. B. This “child of God” would like to thank you for all of your patience and understanding. Ms. C, Mr. G, and Coach I, I’ve only known you for a few months, but I appreciate you just as much as Mrs. S and Ms. McN, who I’ve known for 6 years.
"D.B. and M.A. are the two teammates I’ve known the longest. I really want to thank them for their friendship and support during all of the success and falls I’ve taken over the years.
"I also would like to thank my family for their support and for teaching me to love school and football.
"I would like to end by telling everyone that we can win championships if we work together and stand by God. Thank you."
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Uhhh....you did.
From April, 2009:
Great moments in teaching, part eleventy-jillion:
7th period writing...7 8th grade males. I love the class...but boy do they drive me nuts.
Today, "Rick" came to class and almost immediately started asking what would happen if someone brought alcohol to school. In a water bottle. It started out sounding very hypothetical, and Rick's goal in life seems to be to see if he can get a rise out of me. But when "In a water bottle" got added to the mix, my curiosity was piqued. I said I wasn't sure, as I'd never seen it happen here before, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was, at minimum, a suspension and maybe an expulsion. Rick and Luigi exchanged a furtive glance (or so they thought) and Luigi muttered under his breath, "They're gonna be in troublllllle..."
I decided to play it cool. In an incredulous, joking voice, I asked, "Who's got a water bottle of alcohol at school?" Luigi started to say a name, but Rick started making noises and singing "NO ONE! NO ONE! NO ONE WOULD DO THAT< MS. M. YOU KNOW I'M JOKING!!!!"
I had my e-mail program open, actually, and I e-mailed the principal, the vice principal, and the guidance counselor. I detailed what I'd just heard and suggested that they check the situation out. Evidently, at least one of those people got the e-mail, and the principal went to investigate. He got a kid, not the one mentioned, in his office.
Rick returned the laptops to the laptop cart in another room and came back to our room. He grabbed Luigi and said, "Someone ratted them out!!! Mr. Principal came to get them!!! Someone ratted them out!!!" The two of them then got in a discussion wherein they were trying to figure who'd sold out their friends. I just sat there, biting the insides of my cheeks.
Great moments in teaching, part eleventy-jillion:
7th period writing...7 8th grade males. I love the class...but boy do they drive me nuts.
Today, "Rick" came to class and almost immediately started asking what would happen if someone brought alcohol to school. In a water bottle. It started out sounding very hypothetical, and Rick's goal in life seems to be to see if he can get a rise out of me. But when "In a water bottle" got added to the mix, my curiosity was piqued. I said I wasn't sure, as I'd never seen it happen here before, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was, at minimum, a suspension and maybe an expulsion. Rick and Luigi exchanged a furtive glance (or so they thought) and Luigi muttered under his breath, "They're gonna be in troublllllle..."
I decided to play it cool. In an incredulous, joking voice, I asked, "Who's got a water bottle of alcohol at school?" Luigi started to say a name, but Rick started making noises and singing "NO ONE! NO ONE! NO ONE WOULD DO THAT< MS. M. YOU KNOW I'M JOKING!!!!"
I had my e-mail program open, actually, and I e-mailed the principal, the vice principal, and the guidance counselor. I detailed what I'd just heard and suggested that they check the situation out. Evidently, at least one of those people got the e-mail, and the principal went to investigate. He got a kid, not the one mentioned, in his office.
Rick returned the laptops to the laptop cart in another room and came back to our room. He grabbed Luigi and said, "Someone ratted them out!!! Mr. Principal came to get them!!! Someone ratted them out!!!" The two of them then got in a discussion wherein they were trying to figure who'd sold out their friends. I just sat there, biting the insides of my cheeks.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Why did you THINK your brother asked you to "hold it"?
Towards the end of my first year teaching, I was in the faculty room during my end-of-the-day planning period, as I often was. (Teaching in an interior room with no windows all day is enough to drive you stir crazy.) As I sat there, grading papers or whatnot, someone from the main office buzzed the room and requested that "a male teacher" report to the office immediately.
All eyes fell on me, as I was the only male teacher in the room. This could only mean one thing, really, if they were summoning people with gender as the only criteria. Someone was going to be searched.
I arrived in the office and was told that someone had stolen an iPod in an art class and one kid -- let's call him J -- was accused. He was willing to have his backpack and person searched by the female Assistant Principal to prove his innocence, but a male faculty member needed to be present. The AP first asked him if he was carrying any item that was against the school rules, giving him a chance to fess up before the search began. He said he was clean, and the AP began to go through his bag. She took out his books, his notebooks, pens, and pencils, along with a sizable Tupperware container I was told he brought in for some sort of food fest in his Spanish class earlier in the day. We searched all these items. So far, so good.
Next, the kid was told to empty out his pockets, which he did, beginning with his jacket. Nothing incriminating. Pants pockets. Nothing. It looked like he was going to walk, until the AP noticed that he was wearing cargo pants. After a quick admonishment (cargo pants are against the school dress code), she told him to empty out the large pocket going down the right leg of the pants. He removed a keychain with a stainless steel pill fob on it, which she handed to me and told me to open.
And I did.
I would like to state, just for the record and not out of any sense of superiority, that I have never done drugs of any kind. I'm not much of a drinker either. I just don't quite understand the allure of ingesting a substance that impairs your judgment and changes your behavior, and after this day, I'm pretty sure J wasn't as keen on it either. I opened the pill fob and was hit by the pungent, sickly-sweet aroma long before I looked into the container and saw a small, mostly-smoked, hand-rolled butt. Apparently kept there for freshness.
I looked at J, expecting to see panic, but he was totally expressionless as I handed the fob to the AP. She looked in, then started shouting at him -- not for having the drugs, not even for not confessing he had drugs, but for stinking up her office. And it was pretty ripe. If I hadn't eased my way out of there, I may well have found up with my first case of chemically-induced munchies.
Here's the thing. J began to swear vehemently that he didn't know the butt was in there, and honestly, I believed him. If he had known about it, he would have been scared when the fob was found, when I screwed it open, when I handed it to the AP... but he had no reaction until she actually showed him what was inside, at which point his face contorted into pure terror. But I also believe that he didn't know what was in there at that time, not because such things were never in his pill fob.
Ironically, he was totally innocent of stealing the iPod, an offense which -- while serious -- would have had a much more lenient sentence than the one-year term in an off-campus facility he wound up getting.
The moral of the story, kids? If you're going to hide your pot in your little brother's pill fob, make sure he doesn't get accused of theft that day, or you're going to be out... I dunno... ten, fifteen bucks? I've got no idea what those things cost.
All eyes fell on me, as I was the only male teacher in the room. This could only mean one thing, really, if they were summoning people with gender as the only criteria. Someone was going to be searched.
I arrived in the office and was told that someone had stolen an iPod in an art class and one kid -- let's call him J -- was accused. He was willing to have his backpack and person searched by the female Assistant Principal to prove his innocence, but a male faculty member needed to be present. The AP first asked him if he was carrying any item that was against the school rules, giving him a chance to fess up before the search began. He said he was clean, and the AP began to go through his bag. She took out his books, his notebooks, pens, and pencils, along with a sizable Tupperware container I was told he brought in for some sort of food fest in his Spanish class earlier in the day. We searched all these items. So far, so good.
Next, the kid was told to empty out his pockets, which he did, beginning with his jacket. Nothing incriminating. Pants pockets. Nothing. It looked like he was going to walk, until the AP noticed that he was wearing cargo pants. After a quick admonishment (cargo pants are against the school dress code), she told him to empty out the large pocket going down the right leg of the pants. He removed a keychain with a stainless steel pill fob on it, which she handed to me and told me to open.
And I did.
I would like to state, just for the record and not out of any sense of superiority, that I have never done drugs of any kind. I'm not much of a drinker either. I just don't quite understand the allure of ingesting a substance that impairs your judgment and changes your behavior, and after this day, I'm pretty sure J wasn't as keen on it either. I opened the pill fob and was hit by the pungent, sickly-sweet aroma long before I looked into the container and saw a small, mostly-smoked, hand-rolled butt. Apparently kept there for freshness.
I looked at J, expecting to see panic, but he was totally expressionless as I handed the fob to the AP. She looked in, then started shouting at him -- not for having the drugs, not even for not confessing he had drugs, but for stinking up her office. And it was pretty ripe. If I hadn't eased my way out of there, I may well have found up with my first case of chemically-induced munchies.
Here's the thing. J began to swear vehemently that he didn't know the butt was in there, and honestly, I believed him. If he had known about it, he would have been scared when the fob was found, when I screwed it open, when I handed it to the AP... but he had no reaction until she actually showed him what was inside, at which point his face contorted into pure terror. But I also believe that he didn't know what was in there at that time, not because such things were never in his pill fob.
Ironically, he was totally innocent of stealing the iPod, an offense which -- while serious -- would have had a much more lenient sentence than the one-year term in an off-campus facility he wound up getting.
The moral of the story, kids? If you're going to hide your pot in your little brother's pill fob, make sure he doesn't get accused of theft that day, or you're going to be out... I dunno... ten, fifteen bucks? I've got no idea what those things cost.
Amazingness from March of 2009
I made a bust in class that has my head reeling....
My friend K was out sick today, and so I had to sub one of her classes: 7th grade science. Just had to watch a video on baby animals. Awesome. I like animals...especially when they're babies!!!
So we're watching the video, it's on VHS, and there's a long section where the sound drops out. About 1 min. in, the sound dropped out, and I hear something make an electronic noise.
AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!
I THOUGHT it came from "Q," who had his backpack on the table, but he's a really good, really bright kid, and I thought, "Nah...can't be him!"
No one will own up to it...although the sound came back on the video and apparently N was trying to say it was her iPod. She listens to that thing so loud that I can hear the lyrics, so it probably WAS her...turns out, it wasn't a phone, but was the iPod, as I learned later...it was in her bag and she bumped it. I let her slide because she owned up to it and inadvertently helped me catch a serious problem.
I said if no one would own up to it, then everyone would have to turn in every electronic device. They could get them back with no consequences at the end of the period if someone would woman-up or man-up and admit they were guilty.
No one admits it, and I collect a Play Station Portable, a CD player, the iPod, and 7 cell phones. Seventh graders are way easier to control in some ways than the other kids. Oh, I KNOW there were more that weren't handed over. I did this once with 8th graders when a phone rang, and no one turned anything in except the guilty kid, who didn't even admit he was guilty until I turned his phone on and it repeated the exact sound I'd just heard.
Q actually gave me his phone, but his was the last one I wanted to check.
The Bern was there and heard it when it went off...he'd come to ask me something and just happened to be in the most awesome place at the most awesome time.
S immediately gets on the defensive swearing loudly that it wasn't him...so I start thinking it WAS! I checked his phone first, but it wasn't him. He did, however, have it on in his pocket, so there was some Catholic guilt weighing in on him.
I get The Bern to help figure out which phone went off, and I grab Q's phone off the top of the pile. No missed calls....and a text message from "A's dad." At 12:06 p.m. March 6. BINGO
I get A to give me her phone, which is in her hand, and she hasn't erased her messages.
Q sent her one that said "porn," another one that said "dick..." and a few more one-word texts. Texting from your pocket mustn't give you much time to text more
I scroll through and find out they've been texting since 8:30 this morning! I think, hmmm...I wonder how many days THIS has happened at school! Seeing such questionable messages sent between two 13-year-olds nearing the end of 7th grade is concerning. There's probably cause which allows you to search a bag, so I figure this extends to phones....and the texts are completely visible as I scroll. Not like I'm prying.
THEN I find he has another one he sent her that says, "i only have one condom now." With worse spelling than that, though. There's one that says his dad is passed out drunk, and another one that says he was so drunk that he "just threw up whatever the hell he just drank."
WAIT FOR IT
So I look at her phone...on application day, she was wearing jeans with patch letters that said "a boy's name starting with 'T'" on them, and she wrote, "i love t" all over them in marker.
Anyway, there's a text to a kid named T: "i can't wait to suck your **** or f*** again"
I KNOW!!!!!!!!!
Disturbed, I ask The Bern to watch the kids, write them up, and go to the principal...who's meeting with the VP. I censor the messages, because while I can say it to VP, I think Principal's ears would fall off to hear those words, hahaha.
Later, I was was eating lunch, and the principal came in in his goofy, jovial manner and said, "Want to hear the best thing of all?!?!?!?!" He says he called A's mom to tell her the phone was taken away. You can only pick up confiscated items on Thursday afternoons...so if you lose something on Friday, you're pretty much SOL. He called her mom, who says that her dad has been in the hospital or is sick or something, and so they've been letting her use his phone because something happened with hers (Taken away? I don't know. Maybe broken? Not important to the story, really...) I don't know if, in these circumstances, he had them pick it up earlier. he didn't say if he did or not.
He didn't actually see them...but my write-up for Q said that he was sending vulgar text messages to a female classmate in 5th period. Hers just said she was texting a male classmate during 5th period. So...it'll get out somehow...I'm pretty sure that they are having great weekends and that I'll TOTALLY get teacher of the year for the second year in a row, since the students vote, hahaha.
Oh, and true to my word, all electronics were returned with a warning to keep it in their lockers (school policy). No consequences other than the mild heart attacks they all probably had when I picked them up in the first place.
My friend K was out sick today, and so I had to sub one of her classes: 7th grade science. Just had to watch a video on baby animals. Awesome. I like animals...especially when they're babies!!!
So we're watching the video, it's on VHS, and there's a long section where the sound drops out. About 1 min. in, the sound dropped out, and I hear something make an electronic noise.
AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!
I THOUGHT it came from "Q," who had his backpack on the table, but he's a really good, really bright kid, and I thought, "Nah...can't be him!"
No one will own up to it...although the sound came back on the video and apparently N was trying to say it was her iPod. She listens to that thing so loud that I can hear the lyrics, so it probably WAS her...turns out, it wasn't a phone, but was the iPod, as I learned later...it was in her bag and she bumped it. I let her slide because she owned up to it and inadvertently helped me catch a serious problem.
I said if no one would own up to it, then everyone would have to turn in every electronic device. They could get them back with no consequences at the end of the period if someone would woman-up or man-up and admit they were guilty.
No one admits it, and I collect a Play Station Portable, a CD player, the iPod, and 7 cell phones. Seventh graders are way easier to control in some ways than the other kids. Oh, I KNOW there were more that weren't handed over. I did this once with 8th graders when a phone rang, and no one turned anything in except the guilty kid, who didn't even admit he was guilty until I turned his phone on and it repeated the exact sound I'd just heard.
Q actually gave me his phone, but his was the last one I wanted to check.
The Bern was there and heard it when it went off...he'd come to ask me something and just happened to be in the most awesome place at the most awesome time.
S immediately gets on the defensive swearing loudly that it wasn't him...so I start thinking it WAS! I checked his phone first, but it wasn't him. He did, however, have it on in his pocket, so there was some Catholic guilt weighing in on him.
I get The Bern to help figure out which phone went off, and I grab Q's phone off the top of the pile. No missed calls....and a text message from "A's dad." At 12:06 p.m. March 6. BINGO
I get A to give me her phone, which is in her hand, and she hasn't erased her messages.
Q sent her one that said "porn," another one that said "dick..." and a few more one-word texts. Texting from your pocket mustn't give you much time to text more
I scroll through and find out they've been texting since 8:30 this morning! I think, hmmm...I wonder how many days THIS has happened at school! Seeing such questionable messages sent between two 13-year-olds nearing the end of 7th grade is concerning. There's probably cause which allows you to search a bag, so I figure this extends to phones....and the texts are completely visible as I scroll. Not like I'm prying.
THEN I find he has another one he sent her that says, "i only have one condom now." With worse spelling than that, though. There's one that says his dad is passed out drunk, and another one that says he was so drunk that he "just threw up whatever the hell he just drank."
WAIT FOR IT
So I look at her phone...on application day, she was wearing jeans with patch letters that said "a boy's name starting with 'T'" on them, and she wrote, "i love t" all over them in marker.
Anyway, there's a text to a kid named T: "i can't wait to suck your **** or f*** again"
I KNOW!!!!!!!!!
Disturbed, I ask The Bern to watch the kids, write them up, and go to the principal...who's meeting with the VP. I censor the messages, because while I can say it to VP, I think Principal's ears would fall off to hear those words, hahaha.
Later, I was was eating lunch, and the principal came in in his goofy, jovial manner and said, "Want to hear the best thing of all?!?!?!?!" He says he called A's mom to tell her the phone was taken away. You can only pick up confiscated items on Thursday afternoons...so if you lose something on Friday, you're pretty much SOL. He called her mom, who says that her dad has been in the hospital or is sick or something, and so they've been letting her use his phone because something happened with hers (Taken away? I don't know. Maybe broken? Not important to the story, really...) I don't know if, in these circumstances, he had them pick it up earlier. he didn't say if he did or not.
He didn't actually see them...but my write-up for Q said that he was sending vulgar text messages to a female classmate in 5th period. Hers just said she was texting a male classmate during 5th period. So...it'll get out somehow...I'm pretty sure that they are having great weekends and that I'll TOTALLY get teacher of the year for the second year in a row, since the students vote, hahaha.
Oh, and true to my word, all electronics were returned with a warning to keep it in their lockers (school policy). No consequences other than the mild heart attacks they all probably had when I picked them up in the first place.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Why did my brain reverse censor itself?
So in drama club this morning, we had some extra time, and we decided to kill it with charades.
Two teens, "Oscar" and "Subway," guessed a correct answer simultaneously. They decided to settle this feud with a game of "Rock, Paper, Scissors."
I watched as Oscar went, "Rock, Paper, Scissors." He threw down scissors as he said the word. 99% of the world says, "Rock, Paper, Scissors, SHOOT!" and throws on "Shoot." Subway plays in the 99th percentile. He saw Oscar throw scissors, and, naturally, threw rock. I said they had to do it over to be fair, and explained to Oscar how to play it otherwise.
I WANTED to tell him, "You can't throw on scissors. You have to throw on shoot."
What I DID tell him was, "You can't throw on scissors. You have to throw on shit."
The dozen kids erupted into raucous laughter, my hand slapped itself over my mouth, and I turned tomato red. I sat there for a few minutes, said, "I'm going to walk out this door, take a second, and come back to start the day over."
So I walked to my friend's room, told her what happened, got a boost of confidence, and went back in the room. They were all sitting there, stunned.
Oh Lord. I don't know where that came from, or why it did...the only thing I can think of is that my brain reverse censored itself. It knows that when I want to say "shit," it should say "shoot" at school. Instead, when I tried to say "shoot," it said "shit."
I immediately e-mailed the guidance counselor and the vice principal and told them what happened. I got a response of "I love it!!!! :) " from the guidance counselor.
Ugh. What a day.fun
Two teens, "Oscar" and "Subway," guessed a correct answer simultaneously. They decided to settle this feud with a game of "Rock, Paper, Scissors."
I watched as Oscar went, "Rock, Paper, Scissors." He threw down scissors as he said the word. 99% of the world says, "Rock, Paper, Scissors, SHOOT!" and throws on "Shoot." Subway plays in the 99th percentile. He saw Oscar throw scissors, and, naturally, threw rock. I said they had to do it over to be fair, and explained to Oscar how to play it otherwise.
I WANTED to tell him, "You can't throw on scissors. You have to throw on shoot."
What I DID tell him was, "You can't throw on scissors. You have to throw on shit."
The dozen kids erupted into raucous laughter, my hand slapped itself over my mouth, and I turned tomato red. I sat there for a few minutes, said, "I'm going to walk out this door, take a second, and come back to start the day over."
So I walked to my friend's room, told her what happened, got a boost of confidence, and went back in the room. They were all sitting there, stunned.
Oh Lord. I don't know where that came from, or why it did...the only thing I can think of is that my brain reverse censored itself. It knows that when I want to say "shit," it should say "shoot" at school. Instead, when I tried to say "shoot," it said "shit."
I immediately e-mailed the guidance counselor and the vice principal and told them what happened. I got a response of "I love it!!!! :) " from the guidance counselor.
Ugh. What a day.fun
And how did he get off the bottom of the ocean?
The following is a conversation heard as a ninth-grade English class watched the 1997 Baz Luhrmann version of Romeo and Juliet:
Student: (Randomly, after having watched approximately 75 percent of the film) Hey! That's him! That's that guy in Titanic.
Teacher: Yes, that's Leonardo DiCaprio.
Student: (Pondering.) How can he be in two movies?
(The room is more silent than any moment in the entire year, as even the dumb kids stare at her blankly.)
Student: (Randomly, after having watched approximately 75 percent of the film) Hey! That's him! That's that guy in Titanic.
Teacher: Yes, that's Leonardo DiCaprio.
Student: (Pondering.) How can he be in two movies?
(The room is more silent than any moment in the entire year, as even the dumb kids stare at her blankly.)
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Two bizarre events that happened to me in January of 2009.
So, I teach in a school for kids with learning differences -- dyslexia, ADHD, and Asperger's are our biggest draws. I tend to forget that some of them are socially inept. They seem really normal until we take them in public, or until days where something really bizarre happens. Don't get me wrong. I love them. But social skills are not their strong points.
This week has been ripe with such days... Make sure you read all the way through. The second story is way better than the first.
Tale the first: Sticky Buns
A few months ago, a former student came to my classroom and said he had a little tiny present for me. Every year, he brings me a Christmas present still. He's a nice boy. A little while later, he shows up at my door with a 2-liter of root beer. I'm not a fan of root beer, so I try clever dodging strategies. He thought it was a day where you could wear jeans to school if you brought in two 2-liter soft drinks. Well, it was, but only for the grammar school. Instead of just donating the bottles anyway, he and his friends drank one bottle, and he decided to bestow the other one on me. I was touched. Slightly weirded out, but touched. I run out of avoidance strategies, and end up stuck with the root beer. I stick it under my desk, where it stays for the next couple of months.
Fast-forward to the other day, when we had to rearrange my classroom to make room for this massive AV closet they brought for the 12" flat screen. I notice that I bumped my big stack of Scholastic Book Order catalogs under my desk, which knocked the root beer over. I straightened the stack, then pushed them further back, and put the root beer right next to it. Why? Because I didn't want kids fooling with it.
Tuesday afternoon, I teach last period down the hall. I return to my room, only to discover that T-dawg, the teacher using my room at that time, left a note on my desk (name changed to protect the guilty):
M --
Bob "accidentally" knocked over your 2-liter of root beer. I told him he has to bring you a new one tomorrow.
T-dawg
I walk to the front of my desk, see no spots on the ground, shrug, find the bottle in the trash (which, by the way, looked like it was squeezed by Andre the Giant and has an unscrewed cap. Interesting. Not being a fan of root beer, I have never opened it. I kept it at school so that the next time there was a 2-liter collection, I could bring it to the donations. "Oh, well," I think. "At least I no longer have to worry about the root beer."
Now, I have a very wide desk. To get the bottle and "accidentally" trip on it requires you to "sweep the leg!" under my desk and kick it out.
I sit at my desk and discover that I'm sticking to it. Then I notice that my butt feels damp. I look around, and my purse, the shoes I was originally wearing until I walked to the store and changed into flip flops but forgot to change back into, my candy jar, the arms of my chair, the legs of my chair, the charger for my laptop, and the seat and back of my chair are coated in sticky goodness.
And now I seethe.
I took Germ-X and Kleenex and did my best to remove the stickiness for now. I then filled out a write-up form with a VERY wordy yet detailed explanation, attach a recess detention to it, and wait.
A friend, The Bern comes in to talk to my roommate, New J and me, and I pushed back in my chair a little bit to pick up a pen I dropped. I reach under my desk to pull myself closer to the desk again, and what do I discover, Wet, sticky, brown finger tips. I scream, "ROOOOOOOOOOOOOT BEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" in anger, then rant about how T-dawg must have run away scared, haha. I'm kidding, of course, and I'm not mad at him, but I am mad at Bob and the situation.
The next morning, The Bern starts baiting T-dawg with tales of my wrath over the situation. Meek little T-dawg, who is an easy blusher, comes in and stammers an apology as I'm heading to my off-period and The Bern teaches in my room. The Bern is loving every second of this. I manage to convey my non-T-dawg directed anger to T-dawg, and figure out that The Bern has scared him. Am I that intimidating? Or is The Bern that good at lying?
Tale the second: "I Have a Cat. His Name is Bony."
As if the root beer explosion isn't crazy enough, I get pushed to the limits this morning.
We have a kid with some communication difficulties and some form of autism spectrum. He's very bright, but he can be hard to understand. He adores me....he's the one who so fiercely defended me against the kid who made lewd remarks about me and attempted to grab my rear earlier in the year. Anyway, I was recoding some grades on my computer when "Mickey" starts rambling to me. I'm trying to concentrate on not screwing up grades, and I'm half listening. All I hear is, "I have a cat. His name is Bony. Want to see why his name is Bony?"
Expecting to have him shove a wrinkly photo of a skinny kitty cat in my face, I say, "Sure." He knows I love cats. He asks me about my pictures of my cats on my desk (What? I don't have kids. I have cats.). I figure he's got a picture of his.
Mickey says, "Look. It's on the desk." I look up to find him pointing at a desk with a Ziploc freezer bag on it. "Where?" I say. No photos are on the desk. "In the bag," he says.
I look closer and am horrified to discover that Bony the cat IS, in fact, rather aptly named. Bony the cat is a decomposing bag of fur and bones. I decide now would be a good time to freak out on the kid.
"WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT!?!?!?!??!?!"
"For science class."
"DOES YOUR TEACHER KNOW YOU HAVE THAT?!?!??!?!??!?!"
"Yeah. I asked her."
There's only one "her" who teaches 8th grade science: my friend, K. K, who only eats organic food and cruelty-free meat. K, who planned a mock protest in front of my room when I wore my Cruella De Vil costume at Halloween. K, who does not believe in dissecting animals and took a "C" in high school biology because she refused to dissect. K, who takes in foster animals. K, who is an environmentalist. K, the closest thing I've found to a real-live member of PETA. This story doesn't add up.
"I seriously doubt that (K) would want you to bring that to her class. ARE YOU SURE that she said yes and ARE YOU SURE that you asked her about it?????????"
"Yes. We're studying about mammals and bones and teeth and I told her I have this and she said I could bring him."
At this point, New J steps in and suggests he put it away, as I'm bordering on hysterics and absolute disgust. K was in her off-period in the teachers' lounge. I march in there, and apparently have one awesome expression on my face, because Bernie is in there and greets me with, "Hello. Are you okay?" and a concerned expression. I point at K and say, "I have an important head's up for you. Did you by any chance give Mickey permission to bring a DECOMPOSING CAT IN A ZIPLOC BAG TO SCHOOL TODAY!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?"
Now it's her turn to look ill. "NO! Why would you think I would do that?"
"Well, maybe because DECOMP ZIPLOC CAT IS SITTING ON A DESK IN MY CLASSROOM!!!!!!!"
Poor T-dawg was sleeping on the couch in there, and he woke up. He's as red as the couch, The Bern is practically crying, and they are laughing up a storm. Another teacher, SC, is there at some point during my freak-out episode, and all three are rolling. Physically rolling, in T-dawg's case. K and I are near nausea, both yelling and dumb-founded.
Apparently, during class, while they were, yes, learning about mammals and their teeth and bones, and said he had a skull at home, could he bring it. K asked what kind. He said a cat skull. She said she guessed he could.
What he failed to mention was that said cat skull was still attached to the cat's other bones....and its fur...and resided in a Ziploc freezer bag.
The Bern kindly ran interference for us and convinced Mickey to put Bony in his locker for the rest of the day.
I went to Guidance and said, "I need a Guidance Counselor for myself, STAT!" Veep looked up and laughed and asked what was wrong. I told her my tale, and she said, "Oh yeah, he's bringing it for science class." Apparently, he brought it in Guidance and showed it to her while she was meeting with a parent and a student and couldn't really deal with it at the time. She said he has had it for a few years and found it outside. EW EW EW EW EW EW EW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This week has been ripe with such days... Make sure you read all the way through. The second story is way better than the first.
Tale the first: Sticky Buns
A few months ago, a former student came to my classroom and said he had a little tiny present for me. Every year, he brings me a Christmas present still. He's a nice boy. A little while later, he shows up at my door with a 2-liter of root beer. I'm not a fan of root beer, so I try clever dodging strategies. He thought it was a day where you could wear jeans to school if you brought in two 2-liter soft drinks. Well, it was, but only for the grammar school. Instead of just donating the bottles anyway, he and his friends drank one bottle, and he decided to bestow the other one on me. I was touched. Slightly weirded out, but touched. I run out of avoidance strategies, and end up stuck with the root beer. I stick it under my desk, where it stays for the next couple of months.
Fast-forward to the other day, when we had to rearrange my classroom to make room for this massive AV closet they brought for the 12" flat screen. I notice that I bumped my big stack of Scholastic Book Order catalogs under my desk, which knocked the root beer over. I straightened the stack, then pushed them further back, and put the root beer right next to it. Why? Because I didn't want kids fooling with it.
Tuesday afternoon, I teach last period down the hall. I return to my room, only to discover that T-dawg, the teacher using my room at that time, left a note on my desk (name changed to protect the guilty):
M --
Bob "accidentally" knocked over your 2-liter of root beer. I told him he has to bring you a new one tomorrow.
T-dawg
I walk to the front of my desk, see no spots on the ground, shrug, find the bottle in the trash (which, by the way, looked like it was squeezed by Andre the Giant and has an unscrewed cap. Interesting. Not being a fan of root beer, I have never opened it. I kept it at school so that the next time there was a 2-liter collection, I could bring it to the donations. "Oh, well," I think. "At least I no longer have to worry about the root beer."
Now, I have a very wide desk. To get the bottle and "accidentally" trip on it requires you to "sweep the leg!" under my desk and kick it out.
I sit at my desk and discover that I'm sticking to it. Then I notice that my butt feels damp. I look around, and my purse, the shoes I was originally wearing until I walked to the store and changed into flip flops but forgot to change back into, my candy jar, the arms of my chair, the legs of my chair, the charger for my laptop, and the seat and back of my chair are coated in sticky goodness.
And now I seethe.
I took Germ-X and Kleenex and did my best to remove the stickiness for now. I then filled out a write-up form with a VERY wordy yet detailed explanation, attach a recess detention to it, and wait.
A friend, The Bern comes in to talk to my roommate, New J and me, and I pushed back in my chair a little bit to pick up a pen I dropped. I reach under my desk to pull myself closer to the desk again, and what do I discover, Wet, sticky, brown finger tips. I scream, "ROOOOOOOOOOOOOT BEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" in anger, then rant about how T-dawg must have run away scared, haha. I'm kidding, of course, and I'm not mad at him, but I am mad at Bob and the situation.
The next morning, The Bern starts baiting T-dawg with tales of my wrath over the situation. Meek little T-dawg, who is an easy blusher, comes in and stammers an apology as I'm heading to my off-period and The Bern teaches in my room. The Bern is loving every second of this. I manage to convey my non-T-dawg directed anger to T-dawg, and figure out that The Bern has scared him. Am I that intimidating? Or is The Bern that good at lying?
Tale the second: "I Have a Cat. His Name is Bony."
As if the root beer explosion isn't crazy enough, I get pushed to the limits this morning.
We have a kid with some communication difficulties and some form of autism spectrum. He's very bright, but he can be hard to understand. He adores me....he's the one who so fiercely defended me against the kid who made lewd remarks about me and attempted to grab my rear earlier in the year. Anyway, I was recoding some grades on my computer when "Mickey" starts rambling to me. I'm trying to concentrate on not screwing up grades, and I'm half listening. All I hear is, "I have a cat. His name is Bony. Want to see why his name is Bony?"
Expecting to have him shove a wrinkly photo of a skinny kitty cat in my face, I say, "Sure." He knows I love cats. He asks me about my pictures of my cats on my desk (What? I don't have kids. I have cats.). I figure he's got a picture of his.
Mickey says, "Look. It's on the desk." I look up to find him pointing at a desk with a Ziploc freezer bag on it. "Where?" I say. No photos are on the desk. "In the bag," he says.
I look closer and am horrified to discover that Bony the cat IS, in fact, rather aptly named. Bony the cat is a decomposing bag of fur and bones. I decide now would be a good time to freak out on the kid.
"WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT!?!?!?!??!?!"
"For science class."
"DOES YOUR TEACHER KNOW YOU HAVE THAT?!?!??!?!??!?!"
"Yeah. I asked her."
There's only one "her" who teaches 8th grade science: my friend, K. K, who only eats organic food and cruelty-free meat. K, who planned a mock protest in front of my room when I wore my Cruella De Vil costume at Halloween. K, who does not believe in dissecting animals and took a "C" in high school biology because she refused to dissect. K, who takes in foster animals. K, who is an environmentalist. K, the closest thing I've found to a real-live member of PETA. This story doesn't add up.
"I seriously doubt that (K) would want you to bring that to her class. ARE YOU SURE that she said yes and ARE YOU SURE that you asked her about it?????????"
"Yes. We're studying about mammals and bones and teeth and I told her I have this and she said I could bring him."
At this point, New J steps in and suggests he put it away, as I'm bordering on hysterics and absolute disgust. K was in her off-period in the teachers' lounge. I march in there, and apparently have one awesome expression on my face, because Bernie is in there and greets me with, "Hello. Are you okay?" and a concerned expression. I point at K and say, "I have an important head's up for you. Did you by any chance give Mickey permission to bring a DECOMPOSING CAT IN A ZIPLOC BAG TO SCHOOL TODAY!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?"
Now it's her turn to look ill. "NO! Why would you think I would do that?"
"Well, maybe because DECOMP ZIPLOC CAT IS SITTING ON A DESK IN MY CLASSROOM!!!!!!!"
Poor T-dawg was sleeping on the couch in there, and he woke up. He's as red as the couch, The Bern is practically crying, and they are laughing up a storm. Another teacher, SC, is there at some point during my freak-out episode, and all three are rolling. Physically rolling, in T-dawg's case. K and I are near nausea, both yelling and dumb-founded.
Apparently, during class, while they were, yes, learning about mammals and their teeth and bones, and said he had a skull at home, could he bring it. K asked what kind. He said a cat skull. She said she guessed he could.
What he failed to mention was that said cat skull was still attached to the cat's other bones....and its fur...and resided in a Ziploc freezer bag.
The Bern kindly ran interference for us and convinced Mickey to put Bony in his locker for the rest of the day.
I went to Guidance and said, "I need a Guidance Counselor for myself, STAT!" Veep looked up and laughed and asked what was wrong. I told her my tale, and she said, "Oh yeah, he's bringing it for science class." Apparently, he brought it in Guidance and showed it to her while she was meeting with a parent and a student and couldn't really deal with it at the time. She said he has had it for a few years and found it outside. EW EW EW EW EW EW EW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Submitted by a colleague
"At CCD tonight, I received a student's fee payment AND a coupon for 50 cents off shampoo...just another example of the randomness of my life!
I'm assuming that the coupon stuck to the check, but who knows! Luckily, it's a brand that I use!"
Thanks, W.
I'm assuming that the coupon stuck to the check, but who knows! Luckily, it's a brand that I use!"
Thanks, W.
Important things to know:
The following places are top-notch in any teacher's wallet, due to their teacher discounts:
* Barnes and Noble (upgrade your old paper card to a plastic one, use it ONLINE and have it last for 2 years instead of one!)
* Borders
* Ann Taylor Loft (Print out the "card" on their website and bring it with your ID.)
* JoAnn Fabrics
* 15% off at New York and Co. with ID. Used today in conjunction with a $20 off $60 coupon and buy 1, get 1 free pants (sale ends today, 8-25-09). Scored 3 pairs of pants and a pair of jeans for $41. That's right. I essentially bought a pair of jeans marked $39.95, paid part of the tax, and got 3 free pairs of pants!!!!!!!!!!!!
Know of another place with a teacher discount? Let us know!!
* Barnes and Noble (upgrade your old paper card to a plastic one, use it ONLINE and have it last for 2 years instead of one!)
* Borders
* Ann Taylor Loft (Print out the "card" on their website and bring it with your ID.)
* JoAnn Fabrics
* 15% off at New York and Co. with ID. Used today in conjunction with a $20 off $60 coupon and buy 1, get 1 free pants (sale ends today, 8-25-09). Scored 3 pairs of pants and a pair of jeans for $41. That's right. I essentially bought a pair of jeans marked $39.95, paid part of the tax, and got 3 free pairs of pants!!!!!!!!!!!!
Know of another place with a teacher discount? Let us know!!
Monday, August 24, 2009
These Children Are Our Future
You'd think that if we teach them well, and let them lead the way, the world will end up okay. Some days, we are not so sure.
Hello, everyone. We are The Anonymous Teacher. Each day, we are thrown into the trenches with your precious little snowflakes. We have a great many triumphs, a great many "AHA!" moments, and days where we are just in awe of what our students can do. We love our jobs.
And then there are the days where we think, "These children are our future?"
We are a collective of teachers pooling our stories for your amusement, your cheering, and your compassion. Some posts will make you sigh, others will leave you rolling.
If you are a teacher, feel free to submit your own tales. If you are not a teacher, do not be afraid. This is the greatest job in the world. You just need to find a way to share, to cope, and to laugh hysterically.
The bell has rung, students. Please take your seats...
Hello, everyone. We are The Anonymous Teacher. Each day, we are thrown into the trenches with your precious little snowflakes. We have a great many triumphs, a great many "AHA!" moments, and days where we are just in awe of what our students can do. We love our jobs.
And then there are the days where we think, "These children are our future?"
We are a collective of teachers pooling our stories for your amusement, your cheering, and your compassion. Some posts will make you sigh, others will leave you rolling.
If you are a teacher, feel free to submit your own tales. If you are not a teacher, do not be afraid. This is the greatest job in the world. You just need to find a way to share, to cope, and to laugh hysterically.
The bell has rung, students. Please take your seats...
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