Was This The Week that the Seventh Grade Went Insane?

According to The Enforcer, the bottom has dropped out of the Seventh Grade.

It started on Wednesday.  

It didn't get much better on Thursday.  Mrs. Eagle had two boys get in a fight in front of school (busted up by a parent who brought the two offenders into the front office while we were at a faculty meeting).  A few more seventh graders were suspended and put into in-school-suspension as a continuation of the "pulling down the pants" incident in the locker room.  Stroll Boy got in trouble at lunch and was still raging mad by the time he landed in my room, threw his books across the room, slammed his chair into the table, pouted and refused to take his test.  I bounced him to The Enforcer's Office for that stunt.  (Need to make another call to The Hood to get The Big Dude From the Hood back down for a visit, I believe.)

Today wasn't much better.  Again, we had boys messing around throwing binders at each other (and then getting mad at each other because it's not funny when it's YOUR binder) so that got some action.  Another gets called up to the front office for a chewing out by his mother because he hasn't turned in a single assignment this year, comes back to class - mad - and slams his chair into the table, throws his books around,  pouts, sulks, refuses to take his test (does this sound familiar?) and off to Guidance he goes.  

But my favorite was the kid who decided to take off his pants in the middle of class.

Seriously.  At least I hope that's what he was doing.

To backtrack, Pants Boy is a big kid.  In fact, he could pass for a high schooler, but he's really not all that mature.  (We have a large collection of boys who just melt down and act like 8-year-olds when they get in trouble - this is one of them.)  In any case, before class he asks to go see the Guidance Dude.  I tell him that's fine, I'll put in a guidance referral and when the Guidance Dude is free, he'll call for him.  (This is an in-house program one of our more techy teachers developed for us to track guidance issues - it's wonderful.)  Pants Boy takes his test and then asks if he can go see Guidance Dude.  I explain - again - that we don't know if Guidance Dude is free, so he'll have to wait until he calls for him.  He doesn't look happy, and goes back to his seat to read his book.

Now, I have a clear view of him from where my teacher station is, and a few minutes later, after walking around the room, checking on the kids as they're taking their tests, I come back to my computer to check something, look up and see Pants Boy trying to wiggle out of his pants!

His belt is undone and hanging down, his shirt is untucked, his pants are unzipped, and his hands are moving and he's squirming a bit.  At this point, I'm hoping that all he's doing is trying to get out of his pants and he's not working on getting in some private entertainment before the bell rings!  

"What on earth are you doing?" I snap at him, loudly, and he stops and looks up

"I have shorts on!" he responds.

Shorts?  Undershorts?  Basketball shorts?  I don't care what freaking shorts he has on, YOU DO NOT TAKE YOUR PANTS OFF IN SCIENCE CLASS!

By now, the kids are all looking at him, their mouths agape, and some of them are so embarrassed that they're ducking down behind their privacy folders, rapidly working on their tests.  I go over to Pants Boy who is still sitting there with his pants all undone and hiss at him that he better get himself arranged, pull his pants up and get himself put together or I'd make things even worse for him.  

Of course that got a write-up, although it took me a few minutes to figure out how to categorize it on the Administrative Referral form.  Dress Code?  (We must wear pants to school.)  Disobedience?  Well, I never had a class rule that said "must wear pants".  I finally decided on lewd and lascivious conduct, because, after all, YOU DO NOT TAKE YOUR PANTS OFF IN SCIENCE CLASS!

I swear, I need a sign for my class room that has these four words:  WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?

You Can't Make This Stuff Up...Really

This was one of those days that you sit back and realize that you could tell people about your day and they wouldn't believe you.

Today was the day that the seventh grade apparently decided to lose their minds.

It started at bright and early when some of the boys in the locker room decided that pulling down gym shorts (and exposing the Full Monty) was a laugh riot, until one of the victims didn't find it so funny, and a brawl ensued.  

Then there was the girl fight down in Mrs. Eagle's area.

And then we had some of Mrs. Eagle's boys harassing one of her girls, taking her books, taking these books into the boy's bathroom and laughing hysterically as they pretended to have, shall we say, carnal knowledge of the text book?

See?  People just don't believe me!  Really!  This is the brain of the seventh grader!!

My favorite, however, was one of my darlings who didn't like the fact he was getting suspended.  Let me backtrack a bit.  This kid, who we will call Dennis the Menace because he's the cutest little freckle-faced darling ever, but don't let that fool you, was a horror last year in sixth grade.  You mention his name to some of the sweetest, most patient sixth grade teachers we have and their eyes narrow and steam comes out of their ears.  He spent most of last year in alternative school, being homeschooled, back to public school, back to alternative school, off to live with relatives in another state, expelled, sent back to us, and he lands back in our building with a record that would scare the most hardened administrator.  He spent thirty days in alternative school, and arrived back with us.  I actually haven't had him in class much because he managed to get in a fight, got sent to ISS, lost his mind in ISS (standing on tables, cursing, spitwads, you name it), got suspended for two days, came back, had to finish up his time in ISS, and today was back to his old habits of causing a rukus, throwing things, etc, and he got suspended again.

However.

This time when he was brought in to guidance so they could do the suspension paperwork, he lost it, threw his books across the office, then took off running and screaming at the top of his lungs throughout the building.

Really.

You seriously can't make this stuff up.

Oh, and I'm held responsible for their test scores...just thought I'd remind ya'll.

(And to all the folks that will post comments about why this kid is still in the classroom and not identified as emotionally disturbed...I wish I could tell you.  From what I can tell in his file, there's not a thing wrong with this kid except he just doesn't like to behave.  He can, when he wants to, be an angel.   Hard to say - and like I said, I haven't had him long enough to even get to know much about him.)

Hey Buddy, Can You Spare a Quarter?

There are just some things that you don't expect to have to deal with in middle school. Little kid things like frequent barfing, skinned knees, and potty accidents, and all that little kid stuff that the elementary teachers deal with (bless them!) on a regular basis. We're used to dealing with the more dramatic middle school stuff like boy/girl drama, body odor, and girls having to see the nurse because their "friend" arrived and they aren't prepared.

So I was a bit surprised when Skater Goober (why is it always Skatter Goober?) came running up to me in a panic between class changes.

"Mrs. Bluebird," he gasped. "You know Shaggy Boy?" he asked breathlessly.

"Um, yeah, he's in your class," I reminded him.

"Oh, yeah. Well anyhow he was throwing a quarter around and he tossed it at me, it flew in my mouth and I swallowed it and now it feels like it's stuck and OH MY GOSH, I SWALLOWED A QUARTER!" His eyes are wildly spinning around and he's bouncing up and down on his toes by this point.

Oh. Good. Gracious.

"You opened your mouth and swallowed a quarter?" I asked, just wanting to make sure I heard right.

"Um, yeah. Do you think I'm going to be okay?" he asked. "I mean, OHMIGOD, I SWALLOWED A QUARTER!"

"You'll probably be fine and I'm sure it's uncomfortable, so I'm sending you to the nurse," I told him. I went back to my room, grabbed the nurse form, filled it out with the description of "swallowed a quarter," and sent him on his way. I wonder what our new nurse is going to think about this latest adventure?

Mrs. Social Studies, who had Skater Goober the next period looked at me. "Where's Skater Goober going in such a hurry?"

"I'm sending him to the nurse. He swallowed a quarter." I then filled her in on the story because, like me, she was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

Poor Skater Goober. The nurse called Dad who came and picked him up a few minutes later. Considering that Mom and Dad are, again, at their wits' end with this kid, I'm sure this whole adventure was just icing on the cake.

I just hope he doesn't keep the quarter as a souvenir.

There's Just Something About a Punnett Square

This week we started a new unit on genetics.

I absolutely love genetics. It's a totally cool subject and there are so many activities that you can do with it that I could, if I had the time, spend an entire month on the subject. (Unfortunately, I don't because we have that Carved In Stone Deadline of the Very Big Deal Government Mandated Test looming on the horizon).

Anyhow...it has been my experience that this is one of those units where you will actually see a light go on over a kid's head when they all of a sudden get it. We'll be going over (and over and over and over) how to do a Punnett Square (and better yet, how to interpret the results) and you'll hear a kid exclaim, "I get it now!" and off they go, crossing genes left and right. It's a lot of fun.

When the kids actually listen, pay attention and retain anything you've said over the past, oh, three or four days. Or better yet - actually learn their vocabulary words so they know what in the heck we're talking about.

We are using (over and over and over and over) the words genotype, phenotype, dominant, recessive, homozygous, and heterozygous. We have written these in notes, given example after example, worked problem after problem, and used these words over and over to the point that I'm seeing them in my sleep. I've had the kids throughout each class period raise their hands to indicate "got it", hand clenched for "kinda got it", and thumbs down for "completely lost". By the end of each period, all hands were in the "got it" range. So you'd think, hey, we're home free, right?

Wrong.

Some of them are still absolutely clueless. (The ones, interestingly enough, who rarely do work and can't shut up.)

I teach our study skills class during one of my planning periods on Thursdays and I used that time to - once again - reteach the subject. I had Mrs. Aide in there with me (this was a repeat for her as she had just come from Mrs. Eagle's study skills class first period where she did the exact same lesson - we do collaborate after all!) After I finished the review I gave the kids an activity pack called Zork Genetics (developed by Rodger Moore from Wooster High School in Reno, Nevada - go here for a link to the pages; you'll have to scroll down a bit) which is a ton of fun and really, really easy. The idea was to walk them through the first problem, put them in pairs, have them solve the next problem, class discussion, pair up again, and so on.

Except they couldn't even get how we did the first problem.

Homozygous? Didn't have a clue (and couldn't even figure out how to look on the handy little table and read down the "homozygous" column for the answer). Heterozygous? Even worse.

I was aghast. Mrs. Aide was shaking her head. These were the same kids who assured me that they "got it", the day before. Today they were completely blank. Utterly unable to answer a single question.

"So, just a quick question," I asked. "How many of you actually did your vocabulary cards Monday and started studying them?"

They blinked. Not a hand went up.

"So, you have no clue what I'm talking about?"

More blinking.

"Any suggestions?" I asked them.

Polite Boy raised his hand timidly. "I think we need to learn our words, Ma'am," he said.

"I think you're right," I answered. "Because if you don't know what they mean, you're never going to figure out what's going on."

It's going to be a long two weeks...

It's Gnomes, I Tell You...Or Maybe Elves

No, I haven't dropped off the face of the Earth.

Actually it was Fall Break (YIPPPEEE!)which was wonderful, but then coming back is just, well, a bit of a let down. See, I had to finalize grades for report cards which go out on Friday. And, out of 97 kids, 50 passed.

Yes, nearly 50% failed science. Amazing. However, I'm not alone. All the other 7th grade teachers had similar results. These kids just won't turn in work. If it's anything that leaves the room - homework, class work that isn't finished, a model, a project, anything - it will not be turned in.

I had one student, Elf Boy, who's a small kid, really sweet, and according to his records, is smart as a whip. But he's failing every single stinking class because he won't turn in work. His mother, whom I've emailed, called, you name it, is kind of vague about things like getting him into an after school tutoring program ("Well, uh, I don't know, maybe it would help," and comments like, "Oh, I only check my email about once a month, or so.") In any case, Mrs. Band is having fits because he's a good band kid and parents claim that they're going to pull him out of band if he doesn't bring his grades up.

As an aside, I don't believe that for a minute. They won't do a thing to help bring his grades up - meet with teachers, check grades on PowerSchool, check agendas - so I'm guessing this is some idle threat. So far, that's exactly what it is. No parent down in guidance demanding that Elf Boy quit band. In fact, what we're hearing is a giant bit of nothing. Parents aren't telling Mrs. Band this, Elf Boy is telling Mrs. Band that parents are telling him this. It's just bizarre.

In any case, I've spent a few of my free planning periods trying to get Elf Boy caught up on some of the larger assignments, which he finally did, but it wasn't enough to earn him anywhere close to passing. I did get to talk to him a few times about what happens to all the work that he claims to have done, but never turned in.

"I honestly do all of my work," he said to me. "But it disappears."

"Do you put it in your binder in the homework sections?" I ask him as we have the kids set up on a program similar to AVID where The Binder Holds All.

"No, not everything. A lot of it like my cell model I put on my dresser before I go to bed."

"And it's not there in the morning?" I ask him.

"No, every morning when I wake up everything I've put there is gone." His big round eyes are looking at me with dead seriousness at this point.

"Gone?" I ask.

"Gone," he confirms. "Every day."

"Without fail?"

He nods his head.

"So who's taking it?" I ask him as the stares at me. I'm thinking I'm going to hear a story now about Evil Sibling who's destroying his life by stealing all his work.

"I think it's gnomes," he says.

He is serious.

"Or maybe elves," he responds. "I'm not quite sure which."

"Have you considered an Orc?" I ask, the Sarcastic Bird taking flight.

"No, I don't think it's an Orc," he answers. "I'm thinking it's elves."

Oh. Good. Gracious.

Ever Have One of Those Weeks?

Coming back from Spring Break seemed tougher than usual this year.

Perhaps it's because we have The Class From Hell, and needed more than a week to recover from the exhaustion most of us have been wading through the past month. The fact that the weather has been hot, cold, hot, cold, and just can't make up its mind hasn't helped any. And knowing that the Very Big Deal Government Mandated Test is right around the corner hasn't helped either.

Monday morning it seemed like the whole team had something wrong. Mrs. Social Studies and I both had headaches and neither of us could get in the swing of things. Miss Reading was losing her voice, Mr. Math had no sleep due to a late flight and a 2 year old, and Ms. Language was turning green at various times. I don't think any of us really felt well until Thursday rolled around.

So of course this would be the week that I had something scheduled for nearly every single evening. Monday an event at the local University that hubby and I attended which was very nice and over in time to catch 24. Tuesday my college girlfriend came in from California (she's doing a road trip through the South in conjunction with a convention in Atlanta) so we did BBQ and gossiped way too late in the evening. Wednesday is Knit Night with my local knitting group. Thursday, hubby and I went and saw the documentary Brothers At War (highly recommend it). And today I'm off for Good Friday but I've spent most of the day in the basement as we're having severe weather with sirens going off and all sorts of goofy things.

So I may was well grade papers while the storms rage.

However, a few things to note.

Remember Bully Boy? The kid we suffered through for five months, then he moved, then he was back (and put on another team praise Mr. Enforcer)? Apparently his mother up and moved yet again during break and he is now supposedly somewhere in North Carolina. He's another one of those kids who never stays long enough anywhere to get any help whatsoever.

And then there's Drool Boy. Drool Boy was moved to our team because his mother thought it would be a good idea if he was on the same team our basketball coach taught on since Drool Boy wanted to play basketball. Problem is, Drool Boy may have, at best, a 50% average and isn't going anywhere near sports until he learns to wake up in class, do work, and actually care about something other than his gang-banging friends. Of course Mom is now unable to meet with us, answer the phone, or generally communicate with us about the fact that her offspring is running with a bad crowd and failing yet again. The kid is capable but, like Spicoli Boy and Stoner Boy, I suspect he's smoking something funny every morning. Hence the name Drool Boy which comes from Ms. Language who swears that he's going to drool on his desk one day since his mouth is dropping open so wide.

So the other day Drool Boy is in class and I'm reviewing elements, compounds and mixtures and I notice that Drool Boy is there with his hand in the air after I asked the class a question. A miracle! He's participating! I call on him and he blinks. Now this kid has some pretty slow reaction time, so after a minute I call on him again because his hand is still in the air. He blinks some more.

"Hum, Drool Boy, your hand is in the air," I say. "I'm guessing you want to answer the question."

Drool Boy blinks, slowly swivels his head to look up at his hand that's waving above his head, seems startled to see that, yes, that is his hand there, then slowly lowers it.

"I didn't know it was there," he mumbles.

Ah. Guess he didn't want to answer the question.

You can't make this stuff up. You honestly can't.

Target Acquisition Problem

Yet another one for the file entitled "You Can't Make This Stuff Up."

So this afternoon I'm down at the local elementary with Mrs. Duck, Mrs. Eagle, and Mrs. Angora (who actually raises angora goats) among a few others as we've been asked to help judge the elementary science fair. That in itself was quite fun. We didn't see a lot of silly projects along the lines of "how many marbles will each brand of paper towel hold?", but instead saw some really creative projects with good science behind them. It's obvious that the elementary teachers were setting the bar a bit higher and that was good to see. We judged the fourth grade kids and our winner did a project on decomposition (no, not bodies, although I see a future at the UT Knoxville Body Farm for this kid), plus another great one on what type of clothing motorcycle riders should wear (he used fabric, chicken legs, and parents driving a truck to help test - very clever).

In any case, we're chatting a bit afterward and Mrs. Angora starts telling us a story about giving the social studies benchmark to her homeroom kids yesterday. Apparently she has a Stoner Kid in her class (it seems like we all do this year) who's a sweet kid, but, well, stoned nearly all the time. In any case, as she walked through the room, all the kids had their heads down and were working, including Stoner Kid who was busy bubbling in his sheet and working diligently on his test. Warm fuzzies all around.

After the test, she's going through the answer sheets and notices that, weirdly, there are no bubbles bubbled in on Stoner Kid's answer sheet. What the hell?? She saw him working. She knew he was bubbling in bubbles on something. How come his sheet is blank?

So she starts to investigate and walks over to Stoner Kid's desk.

And there on that desk are 30 little circles all bubbled in as nice as could be!

Stoner Kid apparently had a bit of trouble figuring out where, exactly the answer sheet ended and his desk began.

Wanna guess who had to take the test again today???

And you know We Aren't Leaving This Child Behind, even though he's hitting the weed every morning before he stumbles through our door.

Dairy Product Disbelief

I swear to goodness, you can't make this stuff up.

I am back to teaching my classes and we're doing our unit on flowers and plants. This isn't a difficult unit. We've already done the whole photosynthesis thing and now we're moving on to plant and flower parts, reproduction, and the importance of plants in our world. The kids actually do pretty well on this, probably because we're talking about sex. Yeah, it's plant reproduction, but it's still sex in their minds.

So, it's my Fourth Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself, and we're finishing up the interactive reader packet that we're working on and I begin wrapping up the lesson by reinforcing, yet again, how important that plants are to our survival. I mention that nearly everything we eat comes from a plant product or it ate a plant product before we ate it. For example, I mention that the cow that produces the hamburger, the cheese, and the ice cream they all like ate grass, which is a plant.

And then I hear this voice..."You mean ice cream comes from a cow?"

And another, "A cow? Really? It comes from a cow?"

And pretty soon there's about dozen astonished faces looking at me in various stages of shock, disbelief, and amazement and they're all going on about the utterly amazing fact that ice cream - ice cream! - comes from, of all things, a cow.

I look across at Mrs. Jayhawker and she looks at me and we're both exchanging looks that say, "Oh. My. God. They have no clue that ice cream is a dairy product and it comes from a cow."

I was momentarily stunned (and after six years of seventh grade, that takes some work to stun me.)

"You guys seriously didn't know that cream, that makes ice cream, comes from a cow?" I ask.

They all respond in the affirmative. They had no idea. Two kids are grossed out about it (oh get real) and they're all just amazed. One wanted to know how it got flavored. It didn't occur to them that you could mix stuff up in ice cream to make it flavored.

I'll have to admit that this is the first time that I've encountered nearly an entire classroom of twelve and thirteen year olds that had no clue about the origins of most dairy products. Amazing. I'm guessing they all thing it just comes to Walmart.

Still, it's rather sad in a way that these kids live a life in such a vacuum that they don't even know where the food they eat actually, originally, comes from. And kind of scary as well.