Why Sugar Is Sometimes Evil

The kids were insane today.

I suspect that many of them had located the parental stash of candy to be given out tonight to the trick or treaters and decided no one would notice if they took, oh, say, half the candy and ingested it prior to school.

To say they were crawling the walls is putting it mildly.

And then, of course, it was Hat Day so for a mere dollar they got to buy a sticker that allowed them to wear a hat in school today. This is, by far, one of the easiest and most successful fund-raisers our student council ever came up with. Amazing what middle schoolers will pay for.

Of course I wore my witch's hat. However, since it has cell organelles all over it and actually is a model of a cell, it matched my standards perfectly.

So there.

The team decided, after recalling the bags and bags of candy our kids brought in last year to snack on, that we would institute a candy ban in classes starting tomorrow. Simply put, you bring in Halloween candy and we'll take it. The kids thought we were being mean. Do you think I care?

But honestly, after the year one of our students spent all night eating Halloween candy, forgot to take his meds (which probably wouldn't have worked judged by the amount of candy he scarfed down), and then proceeded to try to crawl on top of a 6 foot cabinet in one of the classrooms....we weren't going down that road again. I can still see this little character exclaiming to an assistant principal, who caught our little cherub pinging off the walls coming back from lunch, "I had pockets of candy. Pockets and pockets of candy!!! I ate pockets of candy all night long!!!"

A Good Sub is Gold

I love it when I get a good sub.

I had a fantastic sub on Thursday. Absolutely fantastic. That woman's phone number is going in my file and I'm going to have her again (although for this next week my absence is already assigned to someone else...darn it.)

I subbed and permanent subbed for 3 years while I was going back to school to get my teaching license and then for the year and a half after I graduated and couldn't find a permanent position (they were, in fact, eliminating positions Up North which is why I ended up back in My Beloved South). It can be a completely thankless job. It can be a grind. It can drive you nuts.

There were days when I'd walk into a room and not only didn't have lesson plans, but didn't even have a roster for the classes I was supposed to teach. There were days when I ended up in the emotionally disturbed unit and wondered if I'd leave there emotionally disturbed myself. Days when I bored myself silly watching kids take an AP Calculus test. And the day when one kid stuck his finger down his throat to throw up on his desk - on purpose - because he thought it was funny to freak out his classmates and the sub. (He was horribly disappointed that I didn't freak out at him and told me "it worked with the other ones.")

So before I have a planned absence and have a sub in the room, I give my kids The Lecture. I basically tell them that I've subbed before, it's a difficult, thankless job that doesn't pay well at all, and that I Will Take It Personally if they give the sub any trouble and they will Feel My Wrath. I inform them that a sub is a guest in our room and they should treat him or her as a guest.

And then I pray.

I tend to leave incredibly detailed notes for my subs (which they seem to like) and I really like, in fact, need to have some notes left to let me know who was bad, who was good, and if everything went okay. The last few subs I've had didn't leave any notes, or left a brief "all went well" comment which I seriously doubt, since I know these kids.

My sub on Thursday left me FANTASTIC notes. Her notes were so good I could actually visualize what went on in my room when I was gone. And nothing she wrote surprised me. In other words, The Usual Suspects, performed in their usual manner. Spoiled Princess Girl apparently wouldn't shut up, Brat Boy wouldn't shut up and had to be moved, the Red-Headed Blob did nothing, so forth and so on. So I wrote out eight behavior notes and pulled The Usual Suspects aside and gave them my I'm So Very Disappointed In You And I Can't Believe You'd Insult Me and Your School By Behaving Like This talk.

Mrs. Math asked me later if I got a "I'm sorry," out of any of them, and was surprised that I actually did (for most of them). In fact, I had nearly half of them with tears welling up during our talk.

"How do you do that?" she asks. "They never act sorry when I get after them."

And I tell her what it was like to grow up in Southern California and to go to a school with a bunch of different types of kids, including a number of Jewish kids who had Typical Jewish Mothers who were masters, absolute masters, of using guilt to manage their kids. I learned from these moms how to lay on guilt thick as peanut butter. I don't use it often, but man, when I do...it works!

Now, we'll just have to see if it sticks and they can be good next week when I'm out.

Tiny Little Things

Yesterday I took my classes to the science lab for their first chance to use the microscopes. This is, usually, one of the days they completely, totally, live for. Give a seventh grader the chance to play with something as cool as a microscope and they're in heaven. Heck, give them a chance to leave the classroom and go somewhere else - like The Lab - and they're just besides themselves with excitement.

Which also means that their behavior can be less than stellar.

Which means that I also have to scare the daylights out of them before we even get to the lab so they won't do anything stupid like pull the cord to the emergency shower that's in there in case of a chemical accident or spill. Which is required by law although the most dangerous chemical in there probably isn't any more dangerous than food coloring.

However, this group, even my third period, was really good. They were spellbound (and quiet) watching me make a slide of an onion skin in the cool overhead mirror that is above the demonstration table. That is nearly as cool as watching it move when I hit the button on the wall. There are times when I think they'd be interested in watching mini-blinds move up and down.

However...the appeared to do a fairly decent job of using the microscopes. Nothing broke (a plus). Oh yeah, we had the usual "I can't see anything!" screams from kids who don't bother to try to focus the silly things, or ones who forget to turn on the light source, or (my personal favorite) the ones who don't plug the microscope in.

The true test will be tomorrow...when they turn in their lab reports...which includes a requirement to write a paragraph on how they would explain to a 3rd grade class how to use a microscope. That, I am sure, will be interesting.

However, since I had to be out of class today for a meeting downtown, and will be out for two days next week for the NMSA conference, I'm going to be needing some Bribery Activities. And earning a free day in the lab to use a microscope to look at other things (besides an onion skin) is one sure ticket to guaranteeing good behavior out of my kids.

Although I wish they'd stop trying to look at snot.

What a Difference a Diagnosis Makes.

We have a student on our team this year who I'll call Chef Boy. Chef Boy came to us from Up North, and honestly, that's about all we knew of him. He doesn't hardly talk, even with the other kids. His student information sheet basically said he was living with his mother and an aunt and that the only thing he liked about school was lunch (which 90% of the kids always say anyway). His grades were mind-numbingly bad. We had him on the list to send him to support team to see about getting him tested for special ed. On the evaluation form that the special education coordinator sent me I resonded that I really couldn't evaluate him properly as I never got any work out of him and he would hardly speak when I asked him anything - I was even modifying tests and work for him with no success. This kid was shut down tight. He was also absent a lot and would often come to school with an upset stomach, go to the nurse (and throw up a few times while there), and then get dismissed home.

And then, 8 weeks into the 9 week grading period, his records from Up North caught up with him, and lo and beyond, he's already identified as special education. In fact, he's also diagnosed as bi-polar.

Now it's starting to make sense.

We had the IEP meeting with his mother the other day and it was a revelation. Apparently Chef Boy has been living with his father for two years but is now back with mom, mainly because dad wasn't managing his education and health properly. Chef Boy is actually reading below where he was when she sent him to live with dad. So in two years he actually regressed.

Great.

We also found out that Chef Boy loves to cook and wants to be a chef. One of the side-effects of his bi-polar diagnosis is when he's confused or lost he gets depressed and will shut down completely. He will not ask questions, nor will he even speak when he's like this. This probably explains the mostly sullen silent child we have had in our rooms since August. His doctors also suspect that his frequent stomach troubles are probably related to stress and anxiety.

We made the decision to change his schedule and put him into the special education reading and language arts classes. This had the other benefit of putting him out of my second period class (which isn't one of my best) and into my fourth period class (which is my best class with the hardest workers, and interestingly enough, the highest number of special education students). Mom also indicated that she finally got him back on some medication for his bi-polar diagnosis and we should start seeing a change in him soon.

Now I'm not a big fan of medicating kids. I honestly think that most of the kids I see who are "diagnosed" as ADHD are simply normal kids who need more sleep and a better diet without all the carbs and sugar, plus a little more parenting. However, there are kids I've had who undergo dramatic changes, usually for the better, when they get on medication; most of these are kids who have other issues, usually severe emotional problems.

This week Chef Boy was a different child. A completely different child. He has walked in every day and has actually engaged me in a conversation. Yesterday he brought in his library book (The Betty Crocker Cookbook - our librarian has a lot of cookbooks and I'm always surprised at how many kids actually like to read these) and pointed out some recipes he was going to try this weekend. He had even written down four on his bookmark along with the page numbers. This from a kid who often sat with his hands in his lap and who wouldn't write his name on his paper without multiple promptings. He noticed one of his lab partners had left her notes on the table and he grabbed them and asked me to get them back to her as she'd already left. He was at the fall festival last night and was playing games and having a ball. He stopped me several times to show me his prizes. He also went to the lab to have his tests read to him yesterday and his score is double what his previous high score was!

I hope this continues. If it does, Chef Boy is going to have a very successful year.

At last! Success!

At the Fall Festival Mrs. Eagle and I ran into a student that I had last year and that we both tutored in the after school program. Big Hearted Boy is one of the nicest kids you'll ever meet, a boy who loves football and his Christian Faith, but who wasn't the best of students. He is probably the most honest child I've ever had the pleasure of teaching.

In any case, he stopped us to chat and since report cards came out today we asked him how his first report card for 8th grade was. He was a pretty solid C-D-F student last year, and we worked and worked with him to get his reading levels up, so he'd be sucessful in other classes (like social studies and science which are impacted so much by reading skills).

"I have it right here with me, if you want to see it," says Big Hearted Boy as he reaches into his pocket.

He pulls out a report card and we see nothing but A's and B's and only one C. We are ecstatic! We know these teachers and believe me, the work isn't any easier in eighth grade with the teachers he has. It's obvious that he's started working and putting forth the effort.

"This is outstanding!", we exclaim. "This is just wonderful!"

"Well, it's really thanks to you. You taught me to believe in myself last year," he says. "Once I realized I could do anything I set my mind too, it got easier."

That made our week, if not our month, and perhaps, our year. And the hug we each got from Big Hearted Boy was just icing on the cake.

Nothing a bubble bath and some wine won't cure.

It's late at night and I'm sitting here trying to wind down from a long, long day. Actually I'm amazed that I'm not ready to collapse in bed from sheer exhaustion since that's pretty much how I've felt all this week. (Momma Bird had a cold when she got back to California so I'm wondering if I'm fighting a bit of the blahs myself.)

However, it was Fall Festival and Dance night at school and like always, Mrs. Eagle and I volunteered to work the event. You know there is always a group of people in the building that seem to be the ones that volunteer for amost everything and Mrs. Eagle and I are among that bunch. I suppose the fact that we don't have our own kids to go home and worry about, and the fact that our hubbies are the kind that understand that the kids we teach are pretty important to us, helps. However, sometimes I wonder if we aren't a little bit nuts for doing all we do.

We decided, however, after finishing our lessons for the week, and getting the homework put together, and grading our tests that we really needed a decent sit-down dinner before the festival, so we dashed off to Ruby Tuesday's and treated ourselves. Thank goodness we did.
Because when we got back we were on our feet for the next five hours (I can't believe it really was that long, but it was.)

Which probably explains why I hurt from the knees down. And I'm a walker, believe it or not. (And a wannabe-trying-to-be-a-runner since my cousin is actually going to be running her first marathon this month and she's not that much younger than I am!)

The festival was a lot of fun - they had booths all over the core of the school. It ranged from pudding-eating contest, to cake-walk, to temporary tattoo, to ring-toss, to a jousting ring where the kids could wack each other with foam rubber swords. The comment Mrs. Eagle made when she saw the ring toss where the kids could toss rings and win a 2 liter bottle of soda pop was, "just what they need, more sugar." They also had little craft booths where they could make neclaces, feather fans, colored sand in bottles things, and all sorts of stuff. The Technology Club was taking digital pictures (with a suit of armor as a prop). We had the Jr. ROTC club from the high school we feed into over and they were working booths as well (including, of all people, Meltdown Boy from a few years ago). And making me feel really old as some of those kids had been mine a mere two years ago and now they looked so grown up. We had a lot of parents there, former students, younger brothers and sisters and all sorts of folks from the local community. Considering the community we serve (low-income, to say the least) it was nice to see these folks out there supporting their school. They even had a live auction (which did well) and a silent auction (which did well too, but I lost out on the John Deere basket which would have been a great gift for my Poppa Bird.)

And then there was the dance. Oh gosh, there's nothing like a middle school dance. I swear someone should videotape these things and use them as a psychology experiment. If I had a dollar for every time I told a kid to STOP RUNNING AND SLOW DOWN, I'd be rich. We also had to tell a bunch of the kids, as usual, to stop being so blatantly sexual in their dancing (never fails, they look like they're auditioning for a pole dance job at the local strip joint). The amazing thing was that, due to the festival (cotton candy, soda pop, brownies, etc). they were so hyped up on sugar that they were literally bouncing off the walls, the floor, the bleachers, you name it. And they're going home tonight so they can drive their parents nuts.

The kids in my school like to dance to an interesting mix of music. Of course we have the hip-hop stuff (which I personally can't stand), then country, latin, one token AC/DC song, then the Macarena, the Electric Slide, and...last but not least....the Chicken Dance. The fact that these kids all know how to dance to all of this just cracks me up. Since my muscial tastes run to hard/class/progressive rock, I was dying for a bit of Def Leppard, Led Zeppelin or Van Halen. To no avail.

Goober Boy was there and I'm beginning to think that he's hoping one day I'll forget that he isn't mine and take him home with me. I wouldn't mind, really, because I adore this kid, but I wonder what his parents would say. Of course, the fact that he's just one of six, perhaps no one would notice that he was gone. He'd have his fun, circulate through the dance, then swing by to chat. Of course I had to give him heck over his less than stellar report card.

So, by 9:30 the kids were all gone (thank goodness) and we headed home. I'm going to sleep in tomorrow...maybe to 6:00 am.

Aide? What Aide?

Yesterday about eight of us were out of the building to attend a workshop downtown on inclusion. Inclusion, for those of you who aren't in the field of educating the future, is basically dealing with special education kids in a regular education classroom. Those of us who went, including Mrs. Eagle and Mrs. Cool, were all science and social studies teachers. We're the teachers who have, historically, had these kids dumped (my phrase, but that's my opinion) into our classrooms with little or no support. The traditional "inclusion classroom" (reading, math, language arts) usually has a special education teacher or an aide in there to assist those students who need a little more help.

We've never had an aide grace our doorway. Not once.

(For more on this subject see Welcome to Our World)

I was kind of interested in seeing what, exactly, they were going to talk to us about. After all, most of us have been modifying and working with these kids for a while, and many of us have done a pretty good job of working with our special education department on creating IEP's, modified work, modified tests, etc. And amazingly enough, in our building, we're doing something right because these kids are hitting their goals and showing growth.

Apparently the focus on the day was on how to work with your aide and things your aide can do to help you help these children.

What freaking aide?

Apparently, with the new Title I money we're getting this year (nothing like hitting that 50% free and reduced lunch mark), they're going to be able to hire three aides, one per grade level.

So Mrs. Eagle and I do the math. We get one aide for the entire seventh grade. I teach 5 classes of science, Mrs. Eagle teaches five classes of science, and Mrs. Robin teaches two. That's twelve science classes. Double that and you get the number of science and social studies classes. That's 24 classes.

Assuming that this aide is going to work just with these kids in science and social studies, she's going to have be hitting twenty-four classes a day - physically impossible. So, what it comes down to, is we may have her for one period a week.

Big Freaking Deal.

I'd get more coverage if I simply asked the PTO to toss some parent volunteers my way.

The other fun moment of the day was watching our district science consulting teacher, Mrs. Standard, who is consumed by standards, choke her way through a claim that we need to figure out what the "essential" standards were and focus on having these kids do well on these. In other words, what do these special needs kids need to survive life. Considering that Mrs. Standard considers every single one of our standards to be the most important thing in the world, it was amazing watching her spit that out. I had heard from Mrs. Squirrel that it had taken an incredible amount of convincing to sway Mrs. Standards to that opinion. I'm not sure she's buying it however, and is just going along with the flow for the moment.

Interesting.

And the kids didn't drive the sub screaming from the building.

Another new vice

I love, love, love The Guidance Goddess. She is unfailingly cheerful. She is always helpful. She has an incredible sense of humor (which really is necessary considering the craziness she sees day in and day out). And the fact that she's a complete diva doesn't hurt.

She has, however, introduced me to a new vice.

It is Hershey's COFFEE flavored chocolate kisses.

Oh. My. God.

We were talking the other day about nothing in particular (I think it had to do with the fact that I needed a break after my break and could use a strong jolt of coffee), when I mentioned that my favorite candy, chocolate covered espresso beans, would be the perfect antidote to my afternoon.

The Guidance Goddess squealed and said, "Oh yes, they are the Best! But I've found something just as good, if not better." She then whips open her desk drawer (where the good stuff is kept) and hands me a coffee flavored chocolate kiss.

I swooned.

I am never going to lose weight.

And it's all her fault.

And did I mention that I adore her?

Sunday Insomnia

How many of you fellow teachers out there have trouble sleeping on Sunday nights? I nearly always do, but it seems to be worse on the tail end of a break or summer vacation. The brain has trouble shutting down, I keep worrying about stupid stuff ("Did I make those copies or forget before I left on Friday?") and then of course the fact that I luxuriated by sleeping in (if you call getting up at 7:00 sleeping in) on Sunday morning doesn't help.

So, of course, I woke up at 3:30 this morning and couldn't go back to sleep. Granted, I get up at 4:45 anyway, but still...3:30 was not fun.

So I went in early and of course, Mrs. Eagle was there already. She sleeps even less than I do. It's a wonder we don't all topple over from sleep deprivation.

Overall, it wasn't such a bad day just back from break. The kids weren't completely out of control and truth be told, they seemed a little sleepy which is always a plus. I'd almost rather have them drowsy than bouncing off the walls. We're starting a new unit on living things and we're moving at a pretty fast clip, so it kept them on their toes. We're behind where we need to be so Mrs. Robin, Mrs. Eagle and I are trying to play catch up. Whoppeee. Welcome to warp speed science.

On a funny, but hopeful note...I made a comment to my fifth period class to the effect of, "someday when one of you wins the Nobel Prize for science, just remember that seventh grade science teacher you had who made you work and thank her," when one of my kids, actually one of my top students says, in all seriousness, "I will."

I can't wait for Nobel Boy to win. Because if anyone has what it takes to do it, he will.

Over Already?

Fall Break is almost over.

Sigh.

I have totally enjoyed having a fall break. I don't care if it means we go a little longer in May (but don't quote me that when May arrives). It's refreshing to have a week off in the middle of my absolute favorite season of the year to refresh and recharge. After all, we start the first week in August and have our first nine weeks under our belts. Hard to believe that we're already that far along.

Momma Bird came in from California for a week and, along with Mr. Bluebird, the three of us had a little mini-vacation in the North Carolina mountains. Wonderful. I can't wait to go back. We ate too much, spent too much, and didn't get enough sleep, but it was still fun.

I do, however, have a bunch of posters to grade which I'm avoiding (can you tell?) Now that Momma Bird has winged her way home I think I'll sit down with a glass of Merlot and wade my way through them. That may make it bearable.

In the meantime, I've actually updated my blog roll on the right of this page. Please take a moment and visit some of these new folks as they're definitely worth a minute of your time. Some highlights:

Civil War Memory - The reflections of a High School History teacher and Civil War Historian.
Elementary History Teacher - A must read for history fans and anyone who admires those who teach the littler ones.
Adventures in Teaching - An English teacher at a Community College (and amazingly enough her students don’t sound any better than my middle schoolers)
A Historically -A lover of history…what else?
Anonymous Teacher Blog - A second year teacher at a public high school…bless her heart.
Are We Doing Anything Today? - One of the best blog titles out there! And she's right, there's always that one kid who walks into your room and asks this very question!
But Wait, There’s More - A fellow middle school science teacher…and a real hoot.
Evolving Education - Mr. R. a HS science and math teacher in NC...a great read.
I Thought A Think - Mr. Rain, a First Grade Teacher, bless his heart.
What It’s Like on the Inside -The Science Goddess, and she's a wonderful writer.
The Reflective Teacher - Not only is this blogger witty, she has a lot of great information out there for teachers in general.

Read and enjoy. Me, I'm grading papers.

Is it Fall Break yet?

For the first time in the history of our district we're getting a week long fall break.

Many of us were a bit skeptical about this. For one thing it means starting school a bit earlier than most of us would like (for example the very first part of August). And by the first part of October none of us thought we'd really need the break. The burn-out hasn't set in. However, as we wrap up the first nine weeks of school, some of us are beginning to think it's not that bad of an idea.

Because, truth be told, the kids are beginning to wear us down.

In short, the honeymoon is over.

I'm looking at the grades for my first nine weeks and I can't believe the number of kids who are failing. And I'm not talking failing by a few points. I'm talking failing by a huge margin. Huge massivenormous amounts. Simply put, they aren't studying, they aren't passing tests, and they don't care. I have 16 failing in my third period class (which is rapidly on the way to earning the sobriquet of Third Period Class From The Very Depths of Hell Itself...although they are no where near the infamous Fifth Period from last year).

It drives me nuts that I care more than they do. Or more than some of their parents do.

Granted, we've had more parent meetings than ever in the history of the team. We're averaging 3 or more a week. But some of them, quite honestly, are nothing but empty promises and moans of "I don't know what to do!!!" from parents who are controlled by the 12-year olds in their homes.

So, after handing out EIGHT behavior notes in Fifth Period because They Couldn't Stop Talking to Save Their Lives...I'm ready for a break.

Even if it means that Momma Bird is coming from California to spend the week.

And there won't be anything relaxing about that.

A Case of Adolescent Alzheimers

Today was benchmark testing day for those of us in the science department. Benchmark testing is something our district has been implementing over the past several years as a way to assess and monitor how well our students are mastering the required standards. It's a fairly good predictor of how well they'll do on our Big State Mandated Test in the spring. The idea is that we'll see which students need help in what standards and then we'll do remediation with them. The problem is we rarely, if ever, have time to actually do the remediation, outside of the ten days that are penciled into our pacing guide prior to the Big State Mandated Test. But that's a story for another rant.

Anyhow. I walk into the teacher lunch room today and Mrs. Eagle sees me and this huge grin breaks across her face. "Have I got a story for you!" she says.

This morning when we went to pick up our copies of the tests (test security and all that), they were all stacked up in piles and labeled which was nice as we didn't have to count them out. Counting out 135 tests can be a drag. All the science teachers did testing today, so there were piles of sixth grade tests, seventh grade tests, eighth grade tests, and some physical science (advanced eighth grade) tests as well.

Which might explain how Mrs. Eagle ended up with four physical science tests in her pile by mistake.

All her kids sit in rows during testing and she simply counted out the number of tests for each row and the kids passed them back. Consequently she didn't realize that there were some physical science tests in her pile until some ten minutes into the test when she does a walk through the room and spots a page that just doesn't look right. And then another. And another. And finally another.

Here's the amazing thing. The kids didn't say a word. Not one of them noticed "Eighth Grade Physical Science Benchmark #1" emblazoned across the top. None of them noticed that the entire front page was chock-full of formulas for things like velocity, acceleration and the like - things we've NEVER talked about in seventh grade this year. And yet they just started to take the test!

Which makes us wonder...are they so lost on a daily basis that nothing looks familiar? Are they just that clueless that they figured it was just a chapter they blew off and didn't pay attention to? Or are they, as Mrs. Algebra said, suffering from Adolescent Alzheimers???

Tracking Down the Elusive Parent

Have I mentioned that we have some of the wackiest parents - ever - this year?

They are so bad, and so off the wall unpredictable, that even Mr. Social Studies (who's the King of Calling Parents) was saying that there's a number of parents whom he's never calling again. They are just that freaky. (I, however, win the prize for the Wackiest Parent Phone Call of The Year for the parent who answered the phone, said "hold on," put the phone down and proceeded to scream and curse AT THE VERY TOP OF HER LUNGS to someone in the room with her for about two minutes before picking up the phone and then breaking down in hysterical sobs about how she was a Katrina survivor and she had post-tramautic stress syndrome, and she just couldn't deal with anything. And to think that all I wanted to do was introduce myself.)

I digress.

In any case, I've been trying to track down Mr. Ga-Ga for about three weeks since his daughter, Ga-Ga Girl, has hit new lows in her ability to not only take tests (she actually scored a zero on an eight word vocabulary test, and she had the words for over a week; I don't think she's scored over a 40% on anything else) but to actually do anything more than stare at boys, write notes about boys, giggle about boys and generally obsess about boys. She has a whopping 37% in my class and 70% is passing. Too bad we don't study boys. She'd be on the honor roll.

I've emailed the email address on the emergency card requesting a meeting with the team. I've called and left three messages requesting the same thing. I've never heard a single response.

Until today.

Today, Ga-Ga Girl turns in a signed progress report (with that whopping 37% plastered across the bottom) along with a note from her Dad indicating a concern with his daughter's grades and a desire for a conference.

So, on the positive side, at least he's communicating. On the negative, what the heck happened to all the emails (which never bounced back) and the phone messages? Sigh. So I scrawl a note back to Mr. Ga-Ga telling him I would try to contact him later that day to set up a meeting and if, by chance, we don't connect, he can call the office and the Secretaries can set up the meeting. Later this afternoon I called and left a message - yet again.

And then I got really, really lucky.

After school today, I'm up at the copier when I see Ga-Ga Girl rushing back to her locker.

"Don't forget to give your dad my message," I yell at her as she zips by.

"Oh, he's outside waiting for me," she says. "I won't forget."

He's outside, is he?

Copies done, I head up to the office, grab the team calendar from one of The Secretaries, and follow Ga-Ga Girl out to the car where her father is waiting for her (along with an entire collection of what must be more Ga-Ga siblings- all girls).

"Hi there," I say as he rolls down his window. "I'm Mrs. Bluebird. I've left some messages about setting up a team meeting."

"Oh yes," he says, "I just got one today. I'm glad to be able to talk to you."

"How about we schedule it right now?" I say. In two seconds I've got him nailed down to Friday afternoon and he's asking about what I think the problem is (Hum, no studying, no work, writing notes, obsessing about boys, shall we go on?). He's obviously upset, shaking his head, and giving his daughter, who's slunk down in the back seat, That Look. I get his email address again (it's the one I've been using..go figure why he's not getting them unless his daughter has figured out how to get into his email account and is deleting them - not unheard of), and he's off.

Now, we'll see if he shows up on Friday.

But hey, at least I got the meeting set up!

And just where would I be on a Saturday morning?

It's middle school football season again.

All of which means that Mrs. Eagle, Mrs. Drama and myself will be at nearly every game. A couple of other teachers make appearances now and then, but we're the ones that are there at nearly every game.

Which apparently freaks some people out.

This morning, after a night full of really nasty thunderstorms, rain, and tornado sirens, I made it to the game. It was damp, and grey, but still warm, and the few folks in the stands were trying to stay as dry as they could considering there wasn't a dry spot to be found. (This is where my stadium seat comes in handy.) Mrs. Eagle hadn't arrived yet, so I was sitting there, chatting with one of my moms from last year, when one of my current moms, The Queen Mother, came walking by, looking for a place to sit. Now The Queen Mother is a PTA mom with a daughter that redefines the word spoiled. As The Principal has often said, "The Queen Mother never has anything nice to say about anybody, but she's a great volunteer so we'll just suck it up and smile." Her daughter, Spoiled Princess Girl, can be trying but so far she hasn't driven me off the edge. Yet.

The Queen Mother sees me, and her mouth drops open. "What are you doing here?" she asks.
I can't tell if she's surprised or pissed off or what.

"Oh, I come to all the kids' games, " I say.

"You do?" she asks. She seems very surprised. After all, why on earth would a teacher take her free Saturday morning and spend time watching the very same kids she spends all week with play football and cheer?

Why indeed?

"Oh yeah, I try not to miss any, if possible. I like to support the players and the cheerleaders," I say. The Queen Mother, who apparently doesn't know anyone else there outside of her daughter who's cheering, sits down next to me and proceeds to chat. This surprises me. And she was actually quite nice (and stayed far away from the fact that her very smart daughter is lazy and is only getting a C in my class) which surprised me even more.

She kept getting interrupted, however, by the JV boys (who had just finished their game) who kept coming by to say hello (and to show me how muddy they were). And then the cheerleaders who came by to say hello (and complain about how muddy they were). And then some of my former parents who came by to say hello, including Stoner Boy's mom who wanted to tell me how much she appreciated me keeping in touch with her son and how much it meant to him.

And then Mrs. Eagle arrived, and Mrs. Drama arrived, and I was saved from further conversation with The Queen Mother who wandered off to get a bottle of water for her daughter, after bidding me farewell.

I'm not sure, but I think I just surprised The Queen Mother.

Which could prove to be a very interesting thing.

When Middle Schoolers Lose Their Minds

We have had the most interesting few days at school.

The Guidance Goddess sent out an email letting us know that Discipline Referrals are DOUBLE - that's DOUBLE - what they were at this same time last year. Her fingers are getting cramps from entering all the referrals into the computer. (I must buy her more chocolate.)

This is not a good thing. We've pretty much had a focus for the past few years on working with the kids and being proactive and solving problems before they reach the discipline referral stage, but apparently our kids are just going nuts. They suspended something like 14 kids in the past two days. I don't think I've ever seen that many suspended at any one time before.

The sixth grade teachers have reported that the group they got this year apparently have no social skills. All it takes is a bump in the hallway and the next thing they know they've got sixth graders throwing punches and tearing into each other. As one teacher said, "it's like watching a pack of wild dogs."

The eighth graders are throwing punches as well. But they're also getting more creative when it comes to getting into trouble. Apparently a number of boys (interestingly enough, all former students from Mrs. Eagle's Team From Hell last year) were having some fun enticing some of the girls in their Language Arts class to expose their breasts. Mrs. Chicken would turn to the white board and write something on it and the girls would lift their shirts up over their heads, or in the case of one young lady with a bit of a low-cut top (who probably should have been sent home with a dress code violation in the first place), we had one who was leaning over, squeezing her breasts together to make cleavage and then jiggling. Seven kids got suspended for that one, including the ring leader who got five days for "lewd and lacivious" conduct.

And then some of the girls wonder why boys don't respect them? And their parents wonder why they're grandparents and their daughter is only 13. And other parents wonder why their son is a convicted sexual predator at 18.

Apparently no one is raising this kids. Outside of MTV, that is.

Open House

Tonight was the annual middle school open house.

Actually I don't mind open house all that much although by the time it's over, it's been one heck of a long day (over 12 hours) and I'm ready to go home.

I had a PowerPoint ready to go, a sign up sheet for my email newsletters, and did the nice thing for the parents and the kids. Basically, if they want to talk grades, performance, etc., I recommend they come back for conferences, or set up an appointment. There's usually such a crowd of folks (you would think we were giving away free food the way people show up) that there really isn't any privacy to tell anyone that Little Jimmie needs to start doing his homework and stop being a slug.

Actually considering the grades on the tests I gave today, they need to start doing a bit more than just their homework. I'm beginning to wonder what the recreational drug of choice was around here about twelve years ago. For example, out of 26 kids in my third period, 18 are failing. Amazing. I've never seen it so bad and every teacher in the building is singing the same refrain. However, I've often found that the shock of an "F" on that first nine weeks report card will often kick some kids in the butt and get them moving the rest of the year.

Or so we can hope.

The best part about open house, however, is seeing some of the kids who I've had in the past who come back and visit (often because a younger sibling is now with us). That's always a treat, even though they're all taller and look significantly grown up compared to when I had them with their zits, braces, and really ugly hair. They actually look like people now.

Just Desserts - or how to have a really bad 24 hours.

This morning Mrs. Eagle and I were discussing our plans for the day when Mrs. Gifted comes in to check on something. I knew that Spoiled Brat Boy drove Mrs. Gifted nuts last year and was most likely doing the same thing this year.

"Hey, you'll love this," I tell Mrs. Gifted, "We kicked Spoiled Brat Boy out of Gameclub last night."

"Why does this not surprise me?" she says, "Here we are, barely six weeks into the year and I'm already calling his mom just about every day about his grades and his behavior. He's driving his mother insane. He thinks about only one person - himself - and never seems to understand that his behavior has consequences and often hurts others."

I made the comment that one of these days, most likely when he hits high school, he's going to pick on the wrong kid and have his clock cleaned. We all agreed that it was simply a matter of time. We all agreed that we wouldn't feel a bit sorry for him, either.

Three hours later I'm walking the kids down to lunch when Mrs. Gifted comes by.

"Hey, remember what you said this morning? Well, it happened during second period. We didn't have to wait for him to get to high school!"

I dropped the kids off at lunch, then went back up to Mr. Enforcer's office where Spoiled Brat Boy was waiting for his mother to come pick him up. I walk by Spoiled Brat Boy who's sniffling and whimpering at me in a feeble attempt to apologize for his behavior the day before. I ignore him and tell Mr. Enforcer about the rubber band, the slapping, the goofing off, the stealing, etc. Mr. Enforcer shakes his head and told me he'd be glad to let Mrs. Spoiled Brat Boy know that her son was unwelcome to participate in the club in the future. (Mrs. Eagle never got anyone to answer the phone last night at Spoiled Brat Boy's house.)

I thank him and leave, only to have Spoiled Brat Boy whimper at me again. "I'm really, really sorry," he mumbles, "I was just teasing."

"You've spent a least a year apologizing to all your teachers for your bad behavior but you never change," I inform him. "If you really were sorry, you'd do something about it. You're nothing but a bully and I don't want bullies ruining our club."

I found out later that the other boy who beat the snot out of Spoiled Brat Boy was none other than his friend (well, maybe not anymore) Fabio Boy. Apparently there really wasn't a clear winner (they both had bloody noses and black eyes), and it looks like there will be at least a ten day suspension for each of them and a trip to alternative school for Spoiled Brat Boy who nearly ended up there last year and who is on a Behavior Contract this year.

And if that wasn't enough...I found out later that when Mrs. Principal went down to the classroom to retrieve Spoiled Brat Boy, she asked him what his name was.

"That's interesting," she said after he told her. "I just got off the phone with a parent who was complaining that you're picking on her son every morning on the bus."

Hum...what's that about three strikes and you're out?

Adventures in Game Club, or why earplugs might be a good thing.

We had our second chess and boardgame meeting today.

Let's just say that the noise level during the first ten minutes was nearly enough to shake the ceiling tiles down from the cafeteria. Picture 60+ kids (mostly boys, but a few girls, including Scooter Girl), walking very fast down to the cafeteria so they can get a table and the game of their choice.

They'd run if they knew they could get away with it, to be honest. As it is, Scooter Girl just about mows us all down with her bright yellow scooter. We need to put a horn on that thing.

We get there and backpacks get slung against the wall, games pulled out of the rolling cart cabinets we bought to keep them in, and it's mass chaos as things get started. It is painfully obvious that this one hour is probably the highlight of many of these kids' week. Fortunately Guidance Goober and Mr. Bluebird are here to help.

And then some little chubby sixth grader with big huge glasses who looks like a poster child for what happens when geeks breed comes up to me and asks, "Can I get a wisk?"

And I go, "A wisk?" I'm thinking a whisk broom of some kind, maybe similar to what umpires use to clean off home plate. What the heck does he need a whisk for?

And he asks again, "Can I get a wisk?"

And I look at him stupidly, and ask, again, for clarification.

And he goes (probably thinking the whole time that adults are such morons) "you know, a wisk. R - I - S - K."

Ahhhh. He wants the game Risk. I get it now. And I give him a Risk. And he is delighted as he plants himself at a table with four other sixth graders and they begin conquering the world.

And then we had our first eviction.

Spoiled Brat Boy was a member last year and was a student in Mrs. Eagle's class and earned a reputation as being a royal pain in the neck. He's gifted, he's a brat, he's lazy and he's a behavior problem. He also is probably one of the few kids who didn't grow over the summer so now he's in eighth grade and he has sixth graders bigger than he is.

You know the story about how mean little dogs are?

Well Spoiled Brat Boy was snapping at kids with a rubber band (I confiscated), was shoving some of his friends around (told to sit down, behave and get a game out), was slapping kids (mostly younger ones) on the back of their necks as he walked by (we never saw him, but it was reported by the sixth graders who have no problem tattling) and stole some game pieces (we spent 20 minutes with people looking all over for them and then he pulled them out of his pocket). He didn't once sit down and play a game and we suspect he was just there to goof off and cause trouble.

The stolen game pieces was the last straw (actually if I had caught him doing the slapping I would have called his mother at that moment). He argued back that he was "only teasing", and "having fun." He wasn't "stealing", "he just borrowed them". His first mistake was being an idiot. His second mistake was in arguing back at us. If his mother had picked him up (she didn't, he rode home with a friend), we'd have told her right then and there he wasn't invited back. As it is, since Mrs. Eagle had him last year and knows the mom, she's calling to inform mom that Spoiled Brat Boy will have to find some other way to occupy his time because he's not allowed back in game club.

Good riddance. I'd rather have a room full of chubby geeks and sixth graders than a bully with an attitude who thinks he's cool.

The Year Of the Nut-job Parents?

I hate to say this, but the kids I have this year apparently don't have the stand-out personalities as the ones I had last year. Here we are, nearly 6 weeks into the school year, and I don't really have that many kids who've earned a nickname and their antics have worked their way into this blog. In fact, my kids from last year are still so - ahem - entertaining (Goober Boy and Goth Girl and the Full Monty come to mind) that they're still recurring characters.

However.

That being said, I think the crazies this year aren't the kids. They're the parents. We must have the most bizarre, disfunctional, clearly wacky parents on earth. What's amazing is how normal their kids are...most of the time.

The first wacky parent that comes to mind is the one that is stepping on my very last nerve - and I'm not alone in that assessment. Her daughter, Faraway Girl (because most of the time she looks like she's far, far away), is a quiet, meek, sweet girl with incredible processing problems. She can't seem to get information from her brain, to her hand, and onto a piece of paper. There are days she even has trouble getting her name written on a piece of paper. She's medicated for ADD, but even so it looks like she's zoned out and visiting her own private Idaho most of the time. We had an IEP meeting the second week of school and we have accomodations like you wouldn't believe for this child. She is in the inclusion math, reading and language arts classes and the inclusion teacher, apparently, spends 99% of her time doing everything for this child - taking her notes, opening her book, and so on, while Faraway Girl just twirls her hair and sits there. However, she completes all her homework and studies for tests and usually passes. She's never a behavior problem, outside of the fact that the kids at her table in science tend to do everything for her (since the inclusion teacher doesn't come to science) and I've had to put a stop to that as they were spending so much time doing things for Faraway Girl that they ended up getting behind on their own work. Faraway Girl is capable of doing some things on her own, given the opportunity to do so.

Mrs. Faraway has discovered email and uses it liberally. One day I got four emails from her, including one that demanded to know why I didn't respond to her previous three. I finally grabbed a second and sent her a response telling her that I have students all day until 6th period, and I use the computer for instruction, and she would just have to be patient and wait until I had a time to giver her email my full attention. I had 129 other kids who needed me more, quite honestly. The whole problem, that day, was that she cannot apparently understand that we skip around in our science book (not my choice, I don't put together the scope and sequence) and thought that "Read Chapter 1, section 4, and chapter 18, section 1" meant to read chapters 1-18. She also didn't understand why I didn't assign all the vocabulary words in chapter 18, even after an email explaining that some of the words were duplicates and I didn't see the point in assigning the same word twice. She insisted that I call her and I ended up spending 45 minutes on the phone with her working through the weekly assignments page by page by page and then walking her through how to get to the school's website.

And then I got the note from her about how she didn't understand our study guides. I say "our" because the three of us that teach 7th grade science collaborate and do everything together - we've done this for three years and it works (our scores prove it). However, Mrs. Faraway didn't understand a study guide that wasn't exactly like the test. Ours is in the form of statements because, quite frankly, we're more interested in the fact that the kids know the material rather than parrot back packaged information. I explained to Mrs. Faraway that she could, if she wish, turn the statements into questions if that would help Faraway Girl study.

And then there were the emails where she wanted copies of the tests her daughter took, preferably the exact test she wrote on, because she received a 67 and a 72 and she never ever scored that low because she knew the information cold when she left the house and there must be something wrong with the tests, obviously. In fact, she could go to her files and pull out all the tests her daughter took last year and show me how well she did on them. I explained to her that students do not write on my tests (they are class sets and they respond on an answer sheet), so I couldn't send her the exact copy. I also explained that I was very uncomfortable letting these tests out of my room because of confidentiality, and that if they were sent home, they must be returned as soon as possible. (I agreed to send them, because, quite frankly, I didn't want to be trapped in my room with this woman while she went on and on and on.) I also explained that her daughter had her tests read to her, she had extended time, and they were modified.

To make matters worse...I am not alone. Mrs. Faraway is doing this to all the teachers on the team, as well as the inclusion teacher. She apparently drove the sixth grade teachers insane last year and she's well on her way to driving us all crazy this year. I've already talked with The Principal and told her that if this mother wanted me to change our study guides and change the tests to suit her, I wasn't going to do it - what we do is working for 99% of our kids (look at our scores), and if it isn't broke, don't fix it. Fortunately, The Principal (who knows this parent all too well) agreed. She made the statement that she believes Faraway Girl gets off the bus, Mom attaches her to her breast, and she stays there until she tucks her into bed at night.

I admire the fact that this parent works so hard with her daughter. I admire the fact that her kid comes first with her. But I do not agree with her insistence that we should put her daughter first over our other 129 kids. I also don't agree that we should be holding this kid's hand and doing everything for her.

And I say this from personal experience. I have an uncle with a severe learning disability, and there has always been a schism in the family about how much help Uncle needs to function in life (it's basically the older sister against everyone else). I, like my father, believe that Uncle can live independently, can hold a job, can shop, cook, and take care of himself just fine, if he's given the opportunity to do so. Auntie wanted him to be institutionalized when Grandpa died, and we all put our collective feet down and stopped that cold. And I'm glad we did. Uncle has his own nice apartment, he's involved in his church, he volunteers at the fire department, he has a job, and he has a lot of friends. If he was locked in an institution somewhere, his quality of life wouldn't be what it is today.

We need to give our kids, no matter what their learning level, the opportunity to have some independence.

Occupational Hazards

It has started.

The first bug has started to blaze its way through school and I have it.

Then again, every adult in the building has it from all three administrators, to most of the custodial staff, to the bulk of the teachers, to the PTO moms.

It's a firey sore throat, followed by sinus drainage, then a massive stuffy nose and it just knocks you on your butt. Some folks say they've had it for three weeks now.

I'm on day three.

Thank goodness for my microphone.