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!"

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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.

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....

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."

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.

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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'."

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."

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!"

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...

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.