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?
Monday, August 31, 2009
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...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)