A brief field trip...sorta

Today I took my kids to the brand spanking new science lab to do our oobleck lab. I could have just as easily done this lab in my room except for the fact that it's nice to have a sink with running water to use. In years past, before we had a lab, the kids knew it was lab day when they saw old (I prefer recycled) kitty litter buckets and milk jugs full of water in the front of the room. That was my sink.

So, despite the fact that we lose time walking to and from the lab, and they have to be quiet on the way (something desperately difficult to do), I decided to take them there. After all, it's for their use and it does get them jazzed up about science. And it's not messing up my room.

It went....okay.

First and especially second period, had major issues cleaning up. I swear, I'd have them clean up after the lab, and it ended up looking worse than it did before they cleaned up! (I really would have to see their bedrooms.) Fourth period, however, cleaned up so well we could have eaten off the floor. Fifth period did well too, which was nice as it meant I didn't have to clean up again during my planning.

Oobleck, for those of you who don't know, is a wonderful thing to make with your kids. All it is is cornstarch and water. You mix it up and it acts really odd. One minute it's a dry ball in your hand, and the next thing you know it's "melting" and turning into a liquid. The goal was for the kids to figure out if it was a liquid or a solid. (They decided it had characteristics of both and decided to call it a solquid.) At first some of them didn't want to touch it, but after a few seconds you find kids just letting it drip through their fingers (and all over the tables) like goo, then balling it up into balls in their fists. Pretty freaky stuff and every year when they do it, they have a ball. (And usually I get a couple of parents at open house who ask for the directions because their kid won't just up about it.)

Ah....and we survived the lab. Or better yet, the lab survived us.

Why belts and underwear can be a good thing.

So I'm looking at the absentee list a few days ago and I notice that Goth Girl, one of my kids from last year, is suspended for three days. Dang it! She'd been doing so well, coming by to tell me how much she liked her classes and her teachers, how she hadn't had a write-up yet, and how she was going to join the yearbook staff. So when Stoopid Boy came by (on his daily visit in the morning) I asked him what was up.

"Oh, she pantsed Goober Boy in Art."

Now Goober Boy was in my homeroom last year, and I also had him in the after school program and the chess and boardgame club. Nice kid, even if he could be a bit of a goober. We're talking skateboarder, long hair with bangs hanging in his eyes, and not exactly a fast mover. Or a quick thinker. But a nice kid whom I always liked. And I knew he was friends with Goth Girl so I figured there must have been some sort of horseplay going on.

I was explaining this to the team at lunch and we were trying to figure out exactly what happened to justify a three day suspension when Mrs. Art walked in. Ah-ha! Perfect timing so we ask Mrs. Art to elaborate. Mrs. Art begins giggling and shaking her head.

"I was really, really happy at how well Goth Girl was doing and hated to do that write up, but I really had to. You know how impulsive she is, and she also has trouble keeping her hands off the boys, but it's usually pretty innocent. Well, she decided to tug on Goober Boy's baggy pants and the problem was that they fell all the way down to the floor."

"And that's it?" we ask. This still doesn't sound like a 3 day suspension.

"Oh no, the real problem was that he didn't have any underwear on," says Mrs. Art. "I was practically blinded by the sight. We're talking the Full Monty."

Apparently it took Goober Boy a few long, slow seconds to realize that he'd apparently neglected to put on underwear, and when it finally dawned on him he proceeded to turn a brilliant shade of purpleish red as he tried to pull up his pants.

"I guess they gave Goth Girl the three days under a sexual harrassment violation," says Mrs. Art."

At this point the entire team is nearly weak-kneeded with laughter. Knowing these two kids as we do, we could only imagine the scene that Mrs. Art described. But she wasn't done.

"The best part is that Goober Boy comes to school today. With his underwear hanging out of the top of his pants. And a very large belt cinched very tight."

Gales of uncontrollable laughter.

Loud and Clear!

I have a new toy.

As I mentioned previously, they finally hooked up all my gadgets and gizmos the other day and it's been great. No more whining, "but I can't see the TV" when I'm showing videos, doing PowerPoint notes, or running a BrainPop. The document reader is a blast and I can do things like put up the weather map from the paper and talk about weather forecasting (gotta hit those standards!) and the kids can see it larger than life and in full color. (They also get a kick at seeing my hands magnified at a gazillion times which reminds me, yet again, why I wish I could afford a decent manicure).

However, the gadget I'm starting to like the best is the microphone.

Yup, this set up came with not one, but two microphones! One I can wear around my neck and turn on, and then my voice is broadcast through speakers in the ceiling and throughout the room. The other one can be used by kids when they're reading aloud or doing a presentation or whatnot. (Although I rarely have them read aloud.) Mr. Social Studies has started to use the student one and all of a sudden he's got kids frantically waving their hands wanting to volunteer to read and use the microphone. He actually started to use the teacher one last week, (and discovered that he can actually stand in the hallway outside his door and yell at a kid to sit down and get quiet, and it booms throughout his room). For some reason I held off, mainly because I have a pretty significantly loud teacher voice anyway.

However, on Monday of this week my throat was scratchy and raw for some reason (seasonal allergies most likely) and I decided to try the microphone.

And I'm hooked.

This thing is absolutely wonderful. I don't have to raise my voice at all. Everything I say is broadcast loud and clear and all the kids can hear it. And to be honest, it really sets them on their toes when they can hear me through six speakers. There are a couple of things to get used to, however. Feedback happens if I get too close to the control equipment (but that's not a big deal). I also have to remember to turn it off when I'm talking with a kid privately.

And remember to turn it off when the allergies hit and I have to sneeze. (Nope, hasn't happened yet, but I've come close).

The best thing is that I don't feel as worn out at the end of the day. I can actually teach a class of 29 (my largest class, and I have lab seats for 28), and never have to raise my voice. I can actually talk with them in a normal conversation.

Sometimes technology is just wonderful.

The Divine Comedy

I found this link on several of teacher blogs I read (and you should all check out), and couldn't resist adding it - let's just say I haven't laughed this hard in ages!

The First Test

As a rule, I rarely give a test on a Monday. Face it, the kids go flying out of here on Friday, nary a book in hand, and they don't even think about school until Monday morning shows up. However, we have this thing called scope and sequence and a pacing guide which basically gives X amount of days per unit , and Mrs. Eagle, Mrs. Robin and I are behind by about two days. So...instead of waiting to give our first test later in the week, we had to just suck it up and give it on Monday. And to make it even worse, we did our first attempt at authentic assessment as well.

We got the bright idea (and I still think it's a good idea) that it would be more effective and real if, instead of having the kids answer multiple-choice questions about measurement, we actually had them doing it. They actually did this test in the form of a lab the week before, they had 2-3 homework assignments on density, volume, and area, they got a study guide telling them exactly what to expect, and they could use a calculator. How hard could this be?

Apparently quite hard if you don't care enough to even attempt to study.

Out of 130 kids, I had 6 that actually passed. Most of them couldn't remember the formulas for volume, area, and density. A lot of them used inches, rather than centimeters, despite me telling them for two solid weeks that we ALWAYS use metric in science. Many of them, even if they had the formulas right, couldn't do the math. With a calculator.

And then there was the vocabulary test. Sixteen words, two weeks, an easy 100% if you try. We're talking the lowest level of learning and they couldn't even do that.

And I'm wondering why I'm surprised. It's the typical seventh grade mental melt-down. I keep hoping that maybe, just once, I'll get a group of kids that actually put forth the effort to pass a test.

I'm going to go bang my head against a wall.

Southern Gentlemen

Sometimes my kids do something that not only surprises me but gives me hope for their generation.

Case in point.

On Friday we had a fire drill. It was the first fire drill of the year and the kids did really well. I did have to calm down Nuevo a America Boy (my non-English speaker) who thought for a moment that the fire drill was real. In between me saying, "It's practice, it's practice!" and whatever his cousin, El Primo Boy, said to him, he calmed down quickly and got into the swing of things. The kids were great - they went out the back door, walked down the sidewalk out to the parking lot, and lined up quietly.

As an aside, I am continually amazed at how well this group lines up and walks quietly to wherever we're taking them. It's kind of unnerving in a way. I'm guessing their sixth grade teachers really pounded this into them and it stuck - bless them!

So, the all clear is sounded and we're heading back to the rooms when I look and notice something amazing. We have a girl on our team, Scooter Girl, who has cerebral palsy and who uses a scooter to get around. Scooter Girl was having trouble getting her scooter up over the lip of the ramp to get on to the sidewalk and back to the rooms. In a flash, five of our boys are there helping her by lifting her and the scooter up over the ramp. Scooter Girl, with her big blue eyes and curly blonde hair, flashes her smile at them and thanks them before zooming off. The boys, of course, act like it's no big deal.

But it is a big deal. At least to me. Because no adult told these kids to help her. They saw there was a problem and stepped up and acted like gentlemen and helped a friend solve a problem.

I'm so proud of them.

Gratification

During an in-service right before school started, The Principal showed us our results from last spring's state tests. I haven't written about it before because I had to leave early for a speaking engagement, however Mrs. Eagle called me up and filled me in.

In short, our school rocked - again. We hit the mark in every single category, especially in the special education category which has caused problems for some other schools in the district. And, thankfully, 7th grade science was just phenomenal. That always surprises me to some extent because there are days, many of them, when I think the kids just aren't getting it.

Anyway, this morning Mrs. Eagle and I went to a pancake breakfast put on by a church youth group run by a fellow teacher. Many of the members are our kids so we wanted to go support them. (We then paid for it by taking a two mile hike through a local recreation area - most of which felt like it was uphill and its hot and humid today). A number of other teachers were there, including Mrs. Cool, Mrs. Goldilocks, and Mrs. Angel. So we stop to chat a bit and all of a sudden Mrs. Cool goes, "Hey, about those science scores! You guys are doing amazing things with these kids."

Mrs. Eagle and I say that we're always surprised at how well they do since they certainly don't give us much indication that they're actually paying any attention.

"Well I asked my classes what it was you guys did, " she says. "I told them that I saw their science scores and if they could do that well in science they could do that well in social studies."

We are intrigued at this point. "What did they say?" we ask her.

She starts ticking it off..."They say that they do a lot of group work. That you guys do a lot of labs and demonstrations. That you just make it fun."

It's nice to know that we're on to something.

Games anybody?

Mrs. Eagle and I decided that we needed to get our butts in gear and get the application forms out for the chess and boardgame club. Especially since 5 kids have already found applications (I have no idea where unless guidance had some from last year) and turned them in. So before I left for the day the applications were out and the announcement printed for The Principal to announce tomorrow.


We ended up with about 60 kids total last year which I was pretty amazed at considering that most of these kids had to arrange for someone to pick them up after school. And we had a lot of sixth and seventh grade members, many of whom have already started asking when the club is going to start again. And, truth be told, I'm kind of looking forward to it.

However.

We have learned some things.

1. Make sure you have a large enough room so you can accomodate everyone.

2. Make sure that the chess players (our thinking kids) have either a quieter room to play in or a corner that's off limit to the others. It's hard to focus when the Risk players are dominating the world and screaming about it.

3. Remind them, remind them, remind them about manners and sportsmanship.

4. The people who make games like Risk need to rethink the plastic pieces. Hubby brings his 1959 Risk game, with the wooden block pieces, and the kids would rather play on that version. Twelve-year-old fingers don't like plastic pieces that fall over all the time.

5. Have a good janitor who will return the pieces to you. I don't care how many times the kids check the floor, we check the floor, heck, even Mr. Bluebird checks the floor, we somehow always miss a piece. I find that piece on my desk the next morning, curtesy of my janitor.

This club turned out to be hugely popular and we served a population that doesn't normally get into clubs. We had kids with high grades, and some with low. We had a kid with autism. We had kids who didn't speak English very well. We had popular kids and we had the dweebs. We had kids that just didn't fit in much of anywhere else, but they fit in with us.

It rocked.

I got an email from a former game club member who's now up in high school and can't believe that there isn't a chess club there for him to join. If he could, he'd come back and play with us back in middle school once a week. I'm almost tempted to ask if we could arrange that.

Kids need a chance to play games - real games that involve conversation and not just blowing thinks up with a button- with other kids (and with grown ups who still act like kids, like the Guidance Goober and Mr. Bluebird). And obviously, they don't outgrow this when they suddenly go to high school.

Heck, I don't think I've ever outgrown it.

A case of the hormones

We're doing a building-wide writing activity tomorrow at the end of second period. Basically we show the kids a video on the character trait of the month (responsibility) and give them the writing prompt and they go to it. It's all part of the 6+1 writing we do, and it really does give the kids more practice in writing.

The only problem was that the 10 of us who got lucky and had the LCD projectors installed in our room didn't have a way to show the video (our TV's on teacher work stations were loaned out to other teachers). Basically the tech folks simply installed the projectors and didn't bother installing everything else such as the the cable box, the VCR/DVD player, the microphones, etc. So I dash off an email to Mr. Enforcer, who's sort of our tech guru and let him know that we're in a bit of a bind.

Mr. Enforcer, great guy that he is, gets the tech geeks on the phone and asks how come the entire system didn't get put together and is informed that they're waiting for some shelf units they ordered (to set the equipment on) to come in. Well, we can't wait any longer so they come out and figure that we can move file cabinets around to set the stuff on and it will all work.

So, of course, the tech guys come down and hook everything up in the middle of my fifth period. The kids, of course, are paying more attention to the tech guy than they are to the Cornell notes which they are trying to learn to do so I'm having a bit of a time keeping them focused.

The tech guy apologies and says he needs to do some program checking and would I mind if he interrupted my PowerPoint for a moment? Well, there are copies of the notes on their desks (they haven't seen Cornell notes until earlier this week in Mrs. Language's class and they're completely confused), so I tell them to just copy the next section off as I discuss it. So I'm prattling away about how mass and weight are different and so forth and so on while Tech Guy is playing with my new toys doing his programming thing.

He hits a button and up on my big wide humongous screen is a television show.

It is a soap opera (the kids informed me later that it was All My Children).

It was also a bedroom scene.

The kids erupt in shrieks of hormonal glee and hysteria. Mr. Tech Guy turns absolutely beet red and starts hitting buttons to change the channel, but it's too late. The kids have already completely lost it.

Mr. Tech Guy is profuse in his apologies and rushes out of my room as fast as he can to do the installation next door in Mr. Social Studies' room.

I found out later that he made sure that Mr. Social Studies' cable channel was set to PBS before he did any major programming.

Welcome to Our World

For those readers who are not participants in the wacky world of education, there is something out there called an "inclusion class". An inclusion class is, quite simply, a regular education class (say, math or reading) that has special education students in it. The goal is to move special education students out of special education classes (where their classmates are all special ed as well) into inclusion classes where there's a mix of kids. To help, a special education teacher comes into the room to help the special education kids with a bit more one-on-one assistance.

At The School there are three seventh grade teams. This means that the inclusion classes are rotated from team to team so that one teacher doesn't get stuck teaching the inclusion classes year after year. I say "stuck" because many of these regular education teachers don't teach special education students on a regular basis and, as a result, aren't used to having them. In fact, most of them are used to teaching at least one advanced class every year so having a slower class tends to freak them out.

This year my team has the inclusion classes and Mrs. Math, Mrs. Language and Ms. Reading are freaking out big time.

Granted, we have some low kids. Painfully low kids. Kids who have an awful time just getting their agenda filled out at the beginning of class.

However.

Mr. Social Studies and I teach special education kids EVERY YEAR. After all, science and social studies are two subjects for which there are no special education classes so the special ed kids "come out" for our two subjects. And we have NEVER, EVER, seen a special education teacher or an aide grace our doorway. Each and every year we have these kids, each and every year we modify assignments, come up with notes for the kids to highlight or copy from their seat (since many have trouble copying from the board), make modified tests, try to give the kids a little one-on-one time and hope the rest of the class doesn't go insane in the meantime, and so on. And each and every year we do it all by ourselves, with just us and the kids. And even though there isn't, technically, an inclusion class for our subjects there might as well be since a lot of the special ed kids are taking the same classes and therefore have similar schedules. It's not unusual to have 3-6 of them in a class. Most years we end up with a few that are hard workers and then a few who've figured out that they can do nothing and pass because it's written in their IEP that we have to pass them.

And this year Mr. Social Studies and I are thinking we're really lucky because we ended up with a good crop of special education kids who work, who try, who ask questions, and who are as nice as could be. They are a dream!

And we sit there at lunch and listen to the others on the team whining and complaining about how low these kids are, how hard it is to teach them and the other kids in the same class, and on and on.

So today the whining and wailing and gnashing of teeth are in full form and Mr. Social Studies and I are sitting there with big huge grins on our faces. We are truly enjoying wathcing these three get worked up over something that we do all the time with absolutely no help whatsoever. Mrs. Math sees this and snaps, "What?" (I'm sure we were looking rather smug.)

"Welcome to our World," we say.

The First Lab...My Last Nerve

We did a lab today.

I am drinking wine tonight.

Anyone wanna guess how it went?

Two years ago our district science consulting teacher had a planning meeting over the summer and it was decided that kids really take to science a lot better if we can hit them over the head with a bunch of fun labs that get them hooked in the beginning. The idea is that we hook them and then we can, hopefully, keep them hooked throughout the year.

The drawback is that they're a bunch of immature goobers at this point in the year. And I'm not so sure that labs and immature goobers is a good match.

Now, I know that our sixth grade teachers do labs. I know this because, accordingly to Mrs. Eagle who's the science department head and sees the budgets, they buy consumables (which are, we assume, consumed) and order things like owl pelletts which they supposedly disect and gross kids out in a lab situation. However, when we asked them if they've ever done labs before they all looked blankly at us and swore they'd never, ever, done a lab.

They had trouble following simple directions. They had trouble cleaning up. They had trouble keeping their voices in "lab" range (in other words not screaming). They also were the klutziest group of kids I've ever had. I've done this lab for four years (it's a density lab where you pour different liquids into a clear container and watch it form in layers which never vary their position) and I've never had a single cup of liquid (whether it be water with food coloring, corn syrup or corn oil) knocked over.

This group knocked over FIVE.

We're talking two full cups of oil, two cups of colored water and one cup of corn syrup.

All over the place.

What a mess.

ARGH.

The Infirmary

We're in the process of collecting all the dreaded back to school forms...the emergency cards, the student information sheets, the free and reduced lunch applications, the science lab rules, the health information form, and on and on and on. I absolutely hate this part of teaching. I feel like all I do is collect paper all morning long. It drives me nuts and I'm sure the parents are sick of signing things, most of which I know they're not even reading.

Anyway.

Each of us usually puts together a list of kids with medical issues for our homeroom and share with the rest of the team. It's a nice resouce to keep so you know there's a kid that may need some special consideration or you may need to watch out for something (I'm particularly vigilant about the dreaded peanut allergy since so much of the substances we work with in science class involve food). Usually this list, for a team of about 130 kids, is maybe 2-5 kids long.

Mrs. Reading got her list together and gave it to us at lunch.

Her list had nine names on it. Nine!

We had asthma, ADD, ADHD, seizures, and some stuff we've never heard of. Thank goodness The Nurse was there to help translate some of these. What's frightening is I haven't even put my list together yet and I know, just from glancing at some of the forms, that I have at least one on meds for ADHD, two with inhalers for asthma, and one with cerebral palsy (who rides a scooter). Some of the other teachers on the team said they were noticing awful high numbers of kids with medical conditions as well.

Last year I didn't have a single kid in my homeroom with a medical issue, so this is a huge jump. The team overall looks to have about 20+ kids with some kind of medical thing going on.

Good gracious...is this a sick bunch of kids or what?

A chill in the air...

The room was hot and stuffy this morning, of course, and we were all gearing up for another hot and unbearable day. We figured it would be late afternoon before the parts arrived and were installed and the AC was back and functional.

And then....around 9:00 am....a little voice from the far side of the room shrills, "Mrs. Bluebird, I feel cold air!"

And there it was, blowing into the room in all it's glory.

Wonderful.

Why I Hate August

When I was a little tyke going to school out in Southern California we started school around my mother's birthday which is September 23rd. I always thought this was a pretty good deal, even if it meant we didn't get out of school until mid-June. After all, the real meat (and heat) of summer is July and August and we had that time off to go to the beach, cool off in the pool, whatever.

However, since I've relocated, first to the Midwest, then to the Glorious South, I've discovered that school starts much earlier. My friends up North will start this next week, and, as you know, we started last week. There are districts nearby who started even earlier. (And the public isn't necessarily happy with this judging from the local letters to the editor.)

So here it is, with temperatures in the 90's, heat indexes in the triple digits, and we're holding school.

And the new air conditioning unit is not working.

Again.

But of course, this time it's only affecting ten classrooms. Can you guess who has one of these classrooms? I'm sure you can! Mr. Social Studies and I noticed this morning that the rooms were stuffy and no air was blowing. We've noticed that they turned the air off over the weekend, and thought maybe it was on a cycle that turned off at night and kicked in the next day. However, by 8:30 we realized that it was definitely not going to kick on.

By 10:30 the kids are sleepy, whiny, fanning themselves with folders, and generally acting grumpy.

At 12:30 Mr. Enforcer comes by and tells us two fans and motors have blown and they're ordering parts.

At 2:05 The Principal announces that it probably won't get fixed until late tomorrow so "dress comfortably".

Oh whooooppee.

So far so good...so why am I nervous?

The first full day of school is now officially past us.

And it really wasn't so bad.

Oh yeah, we had the usual roster changes, and new kids who weren't enrolled in time showing up, and then some more class switching, but overall it wasn't too bad. The new lunchroom arrangement caused some problems, but it was livable. I had been hearing that this was a nice group of kids coming up, and I'm beginning to believe it. Mr. Social Studies and I were both commenting that no one kid stood out with a neon sign that read "I'm going to be your biggest nightmare this year!" This is a good thing. Last year I was able to tell by the first day who was going to be disrupting my sleep patterns.

Of course, they could just be planning to surprise us next week.

This is not to say that they're perfect. They aren't. My 5th period wants to talk constantly and is, in fact, the only class I've had to get cranky at. Most of my other classes are fairly quiet. For now.

Or perhaps that's because they're shell-shocked. The first few days we throw a lot at them - all the required school paperwork to be completed and signed, lab rules, syllabus, state standards, etc. I probably do more talking in the first day of school than I ever end up doing again. But's it's the stuff you have to get through in order to get to the fun stuff.

I did get a new student today, who was originally on Mrs. Eagle's team, who does not speak a word of English. They gave him to me because his cousin, who's been here a bit longer, speaks it well enough to figure out what's going on and they thought it would be a good idea to keep them together since we have a part-time ELL teacher and no one to translate most of the time. My Spanish is not that good (my husband is close to fluent having lived in South America for a few years so I may have to drag him in one day), but I was able to tell my guys, in Spanish, that I speak it a little and very badly. They thought that was pretty funny. Besides the cousins there's another boy from Panama who's a Spanish speaker, but he's been here a few years and his English is pretty good. So basically I have one lab table that's speaking Spanish and translating (which is, honestly, quite distracting) and the rest are, we hope, able to figure out what's going on.

Apparently there's a sixth grader in the building who speaks nothing but Thai. Korean we could have handled fairly well (a number of our students are part Korean, seeing as we're in a military town), but Thai leaves us at a loss. Poor kid. He's absolutely adorable though so I'm sure all the girls are going to fall in love with him.

For those of you who've been loyal readers for the past year...some of your favorite characters have been by to say hello and demand a hug. Goth Girl (who's hair is a lovely shade of black) has been by, Stoopid Boy has been by at least three times along with Stoner Boy who's busy telling me about the new songs he's working at on the guitar. I've also seen Fabio Boy a few times. All the kids are way taller than they were two months ago and some of them have really, really sprouted. One fellow I haven't seen, but who's here because Mrs. Cool has him (lucky girl) is Poop Boy. There are small favors in the world.

As for the new cast of characters...it may take a few more days to get to know the kids but I can tell there's a few you'll be hearing about shortly.

Just give them time.

Day One Is Done!

The first day has come and gone. And amazingly it went so well that everyone, from The Principal down to every single teacher, was wondering if something really weird was going on.

Last year, for example, we had the computer system go down, which brought the phone system down, we had kids without schedules (and no way to find schedules because of the computers), and it was mass chaos. We also had a guidance counselor that was worthless which really didn't help matters. (I thank God daily we now have Guidance Goober).

This year all the computers worked. The phones worked. The air conditioning worked. All my kids had schedules. Everyone knew their bus number (Well, okay, I cheated on that - a bunch of us boarded the buses before they unloaded and took markers and wrote bus numbers on the backs of their hands). It just flowed. The Principal looked at me while we loaded buses later that day (which was a little crazy because the bus drivers didn't park in the order they were supposed to - when you have 26 buses to load, it's important that the kids know where to find their bus), and said, "It's almost going too well."

We only do a half day on the first day. Your homeroom spends most of the time with you, and then we do an abbreviated schedule where the kids spend ten minutes in the other classes, basically so they can meet the teacher and find the room. It's pretty hectic and crazy - you only have enough time to call roll, introduce yourself, and then they're off.

The kids were really, for the most part, quiet and well mannered. No one really stood out as a potential troublemaker. My fourth period, the class that's a high mix of both advanced kids and special ed, may be interesting. It seems that the special ed kids I have were known as some of the hardest workers last year. That's good.

Right now I just want to kick pack, drink my Diet coke, and chill. It's 101 outside.

Ready, Set, Go...

Oh boy.

Tomorrow at 4:45 my alarm will go off and I'll start the school year. I've spent the past few weeks, as you well know, getting ready and now it's here.

For the first time, I didn't have to change classrooms, which means I didn't have to pack much up, and I didn't have to haul it from one end of the school to the other. You have no idea how nice that is. However, it made me a bit uneasy because I actually kept thinking there was something I was missing.

What I was missing was the stress of not having enough time to do anything because I didn't have all that stupid stuff to do. Hauling stuff up a flight of stairs in 98 degree heat is something I'm glad I did without.

Today we had meetings in the morning and the rest of the day in our rooms, and that was nice. The Guidance Goober, who's also a bit of a techno-nerd, introduced a new Guidance tracking system that is just wonderful. He builds a computer program this summer and I didn't even manage to get my bathroom painted.

My fourth period class looks, well, interesting. There's ten advanced kids in there, about 8 special ed, a couple who are low and unmotivated but not special ed, and the rest are just average. We will see how that pans out.

So, I'm off to read a bit, go to bed early, and get a good start on the year.

Wish me luck!

Happy Birthday...a Day Late!

Happy Birthday to my blog...it was officially a year old yesterday. Quite honestly I can't believe that I've managed tokeep this thing going without having a major brain cramp here or there, but I've pulled it off. I originally started it because a few friends suggested I do so - they were getting email updates about the craziness of teaching middle school and thought it would be amusing if I blogged it.

So I did.

I figured a few of my friends would read it now and then and that would be it. I was wrong (again) but that's a good thing - I never thought someone would read this who wasn't a personal friend, but lo and behold, you guys are all out there. Thank you from the bottom of my little feathered heart!

And honestly, having readers like you is what makes it kind of fun (and a great stress reliever). That and the fact that I better be writing all this silly stuff down because I'll look back years from now and won't even believe it myself!

I think it calls for cake and ice cream, don't you?

Full of Hot Air

It's around 2:30 this afternoon. Most of the lights in the core of my building are off because it's so darn hot. We're talking heat index of 105. I've been in my room most of the day working, sweating, and then gave up and sat in the reference room with some other heat refugees and worked on a project we're doing on middle school boys and how they learn.

I'm walking back to my room and The Principal calls me over. "Stand by that vent over there and tell me what you think."

I stand on the vent and feel - gasp! - cold air! Could it be? We have air conditioning??

"It feels great!" I tell her.

"It should. It only took them three months to figure it out." She shakes her head, thanks me, and walks back to her office.

There's no way on this earth I would ever want her job. It's bad enough dealing with nut job parets, unruly kids, budgets, and politics, but having to deal with a building and contractors who just can't get it together would turn me into a screaming freakshow.

Mrs. Eagle and I went to Sonic and celebrated the fact that we have air conditioning (at least temporarily) and got giant sized lemon berry slushies. They really hit the spot.

A literary thing going on...Or, Tag, I'm it.

Fellow blogger, California Teacher Guy, posted today a series of questions about the books that have affected our lives. Well, I'm taking him up on his "tag" and here's my responses. (By the way, if you don't check out this guy's site you should - he's wonderful!)

1. One book that changed your life: The Gulag Archipeligo, 1918-1956, by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. I read this way back in High School and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I've never taken the freedom our country offers us for granted from that moment on. It also taught me a lot about the human spirit.

2. One book that you’ve read more than once: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. The first sentence is a classic - "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife". I adore this book and read it once or twice a year.

3. One book you’d want on a desert island: That would have to be Pride and Prejudice again. Kind of funny since I can practically recite the entire thing.

4. One book that made you laugh: High Fidelity by Nick Hornby. This was the book the John Cusak movie was based one (with a location change from London to Chicago), and it is even funnier than the movie. If you've ever known anyone really, really into music (I married him), then you must read this book.

5. One book that made you cry: The Greatest Generation by Tom Brokaw. I am still astounded at the people who lived, faught, and died during WWII. The memories of these people are tresures to me.

6. One book that you wish had been written: How to teach kids to content area read and have it really, really work.

7. One book that you wish had never been written: Perryville, Battle for Kentucky by Dr. Kenneth Hafendorfer. It's not often I find a book that I can't finish, but this was it. And I'm really interested in the topic, so that was a double whammy.

8. The book you are currently reading: Boys and Girls Learn Differently: A Guide fo Teachers and Parents, by Michael Gurian and Arlette Ballew. I'm part of the action research time working on understsanding middle school boys so I'm reading this as part of my research. I'm also reading Decisive Day: The Battle for Bunker Hill by Richard M. Ketchum which is wonderful.

9. One book you’ve been meaning to read: The Hot Zone: A Terrifying True Story by Richard Preston. I loved his book, Demon in the Freezer, about smallpox and since I have this weird fascination with disease and biological warefare (I read books on the 1918 flu epidemic for fun) this is on my to-do list. Of course, I have about 3 bookcases full of stuff I need to get to.

10. Now tag five people: If you’re reading this, consider yourself tagged. What are the books that have shaped—and are shaping—your life?

A little warm, eh?

Here where I live, the the glorious South, we are currently under a heat advisory. Basically that means temps are in the mid to upper 90's, humidity is high, and the heat index is running around 105. (Still, considering what Minneapolis and Pierre, SD are going through, we're lucky - at least most of us have air conditioning.)

Notice I said, "most of us", not "all of us"?

The new air conditioning unit for the part of the building where my classroom is has not been turned on because they aren't finished installing it. We were told it would be on by 9:00 am, then "by the end of the day." I cleared out at 3:00 and there was no relief in sight.

So, I've spent the day working in my room with sweat pouring down my nose. I'm having flashbacks to last year when I had to teach in an upstairs room without a functioning air conditioning unit for the first few months of school.

The good news is that I'm one of the 8 teachers who is getting the bells and whistles high tech LCD projector/DVD player/VCR/Document reader system in my room. (Mrs. Eagle and Mr. Social Studies are as well). This means I can show everything on a big screen, larger than life, and no more kids whining that "I can't see the T.V.!" I've been wanting something like this for three years and I am ecstatic that I finally have it.

However.

They installed it so I had to rearrange my entire room so that all the kids can see it. I've moved my desk, all the kids tables and chairs, elminated two work station tables, and moved the remaining stations to different walls. Apparently because the rooms in this part of the building aren't square (think of pieces of pie and you get a slight idea of what they look like), it was a bit of a challenge installing these things, so we get what they gave us.

Did I mention that it was 94 degrees in my room while I was moving all this furniture?

Fortunately tomorrow we have a science department in-service to be held in the science lab. It's in the new part of the building that has air conditioning.

Thank goodness. I'm going to go have some sweet tea and cool down.

See ya later summer

Today is my last day of summer vacation.

Oh yeah, school doesn't start for a little over a week, but between now and the first day with students I have a full schedule of working in my classroom, as well as in-service offerings to gear us up for the school year. Part of me is screaming that I need at least two more weeks of nothing, but another part of me is wanting to get it all started and over with so I can get back into the groove.

And you would be amazed how much work goes into getting your room ready for the beginning of the year. However, this year we're doing the happy dance because for the first time in four years I am not changing classrooms. Long time readers may recall that last year I started out in a temporary upstairs room (without any functioning air conditioning in August, in the South) due to a construction project that was behind schedule. In October I finally moved into my "real" room, which is where I'll be again this year. So, in a three year period I had four different classrooms. What a pain that was.

However, I have been informed by the Guidance Goddess (who Mrs. Eagle and I rain into last night at a free "jazz on the lawn" concert) that the new air conditioning unit in that part of the building is not on. Tomorrow is supposed to be in the upper 90's and it's incredibly humid. I may have flashbacks to last year if someone doesn't get that chiller going.

The best part about school starting here shortly is that I'll get to see my kids and I'll get a whole crop of new ones. I really miss some of my kids from last year. Okay, I don't really miss Poop Boy or Kelpto Boy, but most of them I enjoyed having in my life. Face it, middle school is nothing if not entertaining.

So Mrs. Eagle, Mr. Music and I are done, done, done with graduate school. The comp exams weren't that bad, considering how much we all studied for them, they shouldn't have been. We treated ourselves to a wonderful lunch (with adult beverages) at a very cool and funky restaurant where we toasted our perserverance in finishing the program without completely losing our minds. Mr. Music treated us both with CD's which he made (the man is an incredibly talented musician as well as a fantastic teacher) which was a treat. However, for me the highlight was after lunch when we wandered through the mall into a music store and he treated us to an impromtu concert on guitar and mandolin. It was a very nice end to the afternoon.

I'm going to go enjoy my last day.

Down to the Wire

Tomorrow at 6:00 am Mrs. Eagle and I will depart from my house and head off to take our comprehensive exams for our Master's Degrees at a University several hours away. We've been working on our degrees for two years now, along with Mr. Music who teachers in a nearby city, via a distance learning program. The distance learning thing worked out well for us because, let's be honest, after spending nearly ten hours a day in my own classroom, I really didn't want to sit in another classroom listening to someone talk in the evenings. I'm dead tired by 8:00 pm anyway and the chances of either one of us staying awake were pretty slim. So, we did the distance learning thing and it worked out okay for the most part.


We're just all so ready to have this thing done and over with. I'm ready to have weekends back where I can do novel things like clean my house, read a book of my choice, or just sit and knit or do nothing. The fact that I'll have this freedom to do what I want is just enough to nearly make me giddy with joy.

However, I can say that I am totally studied out. I have Blooms and Gardners booming around my brain, along with stuff on motivation, law, action research, and learning styles and teaching styles and so much other stuff.

And all I want to do is curl up, watch HGTV and knit.

But tomorrow, Mr. Music, Mrs. Eagle and I are going to go out to lunch and celebrate. We all chose not to walk in the graduation ceremonies (we didn't see the point and I can think of a lot of other things to spend money on outside of a cap and gown rental fee), so we're treating ourselves to something besides fast food. That was our usual mode of attack - go to the University, take finals, do orientation for the next classes, go to lunch, and then spend the next semester emailing and calling each other. Mrs. Eagle and I, obviously, were able to do a lot of our work together, but we didn't get many chances to work, in person, with Mr. Music. That being said, we've all become quite good friends through the experience, and I'm glad we did it.

I just want that diploma and the pay raise. I am, at heart, a truly simple girl.

Slobber Slobber Drool

My friend Supermom and her son Squirt took a well deserved quick trip to Texas to visit some friends for a few days. Since SuperDad is currently in Iraq, that trip involved having the dogs boarded. The dogs, by the way, are Abby (a slightly deranged Rottweiler a little over a year old) and Buster, a Catahoula Leopard Dog, who is calm, mellow and the exact opposite of Abby. Unfortunately Supermom was having trouble getting cheap flights at convenient times, which meant she either had to pay an additional day of boarding, or get a friend to pick up the dogs.

I was the friend who picked up the dogs.

Since Abby and Buster both know me, I figured this wouldn't be too much of a challenge, as long as Abby didn't go completely berserk, which she has been known to do. So I drove my little Saturn down to the vet, and got the dog beds, the toys, the extra food, the bowls, and two big dogs. Buster was a breeze. I snapped the collar on him, opened the car door, and in he went. He blinked at me, and laid down and prepared to take a nap.

I really really like Buster.

I asked for help with Abby because when we practiced getting her into my car (yes, we practiced this, she's used to an SUV), she wasn't very agreeable. She's equates getting into a car with going to the vet, so she tends to sit down and refuses to move. However, apparently she finally figured out that this car trip meant she was going home, so after jerking me all over the parking lot, she hopped in next to Buster and we were off.

So I'm driving along, AC on high, radio on, back windows cracked slightly, and the only thing I can hear is the panting of two big dogs breathing down my neck. I look down and Buster has his head in between my seats, and is gazing up at me with big happy Buster eyes. Abby, however, has her mouth right by my ear and her tongue is hanging out about a foot and she's just having the time of her life.

And then she started drooling on my arm.

And I just laughed all the way to Supermom's house!

Check 'em out!

I finally had time to sit down and update my links. Actually I should be studying for my comprehensive exams (this Saturday) but obviously updating my blog is a bit more entertaining.

In any case, check these folks out some time. They write good stuff!

Sneeze

I am finally back from my two weeks up north visiting friends and teaching summer camp and having a delightful time back in my old neck of the woods. Every year things change a little bit and every year it's nice to go up and see what's going on. I just wish my friends' kids would stop getting taller than I am.

I did, however, end up catching an absolutely dreadful cold while I was up there.

And I mean absolutely dreadful. It started with that achey sinus dripping feeling in the back of my throat late Monday night and by Friday I could barely talk. I managed to finish up camp, help my friend with her teenaged daughter's boy-girl party, and crashed Friday night before getting up, having breakfast with another dear friend, and heading back south. I was dead tired, achy, cranky, and just miserable by the time I got home.

I am thrilled to be home. I am thrilled to have my four delightful cats with me. The only improvement would be if Mr. Bluebird was here, but he's gone on business. In the meantime we're having these really interesting phone conversations because I can't talk. My voice has basically gone away and all I can manage are whisperings and various croaking noises that don't resemble human speech.

It's bad enough having a cold in the first place, but having one in the middle of July when it's hot and humid out makes it worse.


I am sleeping in, reading mystery novels, and getting rid of this cold before I tackle the dozen or so projects that need my attention.

School starts in two weeks.

All tied up in knots - not!

Every summer for the past six years I have had the privilege of teaching for a few weeks at a summer camp for gifted children. Even now that I'm living in the Glorious South I make the trek up north for at least two weeks every summer. I stay with my girlfriend and her family (ranging in age from 10 months to 14 years so that's an experience in itself), and get to visit my friends, and even get paid.

What a deal!

However, because I'm incredibly mercenary, I make it a point to try to work the last two weeks of camp because that way I can help the camp director eliminate her storage problem over the school year by taking the gently used supplies (crayons, colored pencils, glue, markers, etc.) off her hands. Heck I teach in a school with 52% free and reduced lunch and believe me, I have a use for slightly used school supplies. I'm afraid the camp director has actually started to depend on me to help reduce her storage as there always seems to be boxes with my name on it in the camp office that start getting loaded up as people turn in their materials.

However, this also means that I end up teaching kids going into 2nd, 3rd and 4th grades. Granted, they are gifted (supposedly, we're wondering about a few of them) but there's still a huge difference between the age group I usually teach (7th) and these kids.

And it really becomes apparent when you're talking about knots.

One of the classes I teach is a kite building class and it requires lots and lots and lots of knots. And these kids, with their tiny little hands, have a heck of a time with knots. I'm starting to think we need to ban velcro on tennis shoes until kids learn how to tie a decent knot. So I spend a lot of time helping 15 little ones tie their kites together. And usually I get one kid who just dissolves into tears of frustration because he/she just can't tie knots. However, since the goals of the camp include challenging these kids who usually aren't challenged enough, it's not a big deal. We talk about dealing with challenges and taking the time to learn something that's hard, and it all works out in the end. They get their kites built, they want their picture taken with you on the last day and the hug you and tell you that you're the coolest and funnest teacher ever.

But by the end of the week, although I'm having an absolute ball, I really appreciate the independence that my seventh graders have.

I know people look at those of us who teach middle school as people who are either completely insane or people who are incredibly brave to wade in and try to ride herd on a bunch of hormones on feet. However, I think those teachers who spend their careers teaching the little ones, and tying knots, and wiping noses and generally being mommie and teacher all in one are the ones who really are impressive. I don't think I could do it for an entire year.

Cyborgs?

You know how there are things that just kind of drive you crazy for no real reason outside of they drive you crazy?

I'm standing in line at the super big box store (buying a Bissell steam cleaner for my carpet, long story) and for the umpteenth time I see someone in line ahead of me, apparently a young mom, with one of those stupid phone things stuck in her ear. And it occurs to me, not for the first time, just how darn stupid that looks. For the life of me, everytime I see someone with one of those phone things clipped around their ear I think they're a refugee from a really bad Star Trek episode. It looks, well, stupid.

And really, just how many of us really, really need to be so attached to our telephone that we have to walk around with some goofy little metal contraption hanging off our ear? Are there really that many people out there that these people have to talk to that they have to hang a phone off their ear just so they won't miss a single phone call? Not to mention the fact that when they're talking, they look like they're missing a couple of sandwiches out of the picnic basket.

I don't know about you, but even though I do carry my phone with me (I'm paranoid about vehicle breakdowns) I actually enjoy the fact that I can get away from people simply by turning it off (which I've been known to do). I like my solitude at times, and I certainly don't want to be tied to a telephone.

And goodness knows, I have enough bad hair days without having to hang a stupid metal gadget from my head....

Independence Day

It's Independence Day, one of my favorite holidays. And not because it's summer, or you get to blow off fireworks, or you get to eat a bunch of good food cooked outside. I love this holiday because of what it stands for.

I know we tend to take it for granted, but it really just blows my mind when you think of the daring, the bravery and the intelligence that our Founding Fathers had. They did something that no one ever did before...they told the mother country that they were Independent. They put EVERYTHING on the line for this idea. All the members of the Continental Congress - people like John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, John Hancock and more - knew that what they were doing was, at the time, treason.

And that meant a death sentence.

When they signed the Declaration of Independence, they risked their lives, their fortunes, and their families for the idea of freedom. The idea of a government of the people and by the people and for the people. The idea that we have a voice in how our country is run. That we can worship the religion of our choice. That we can associate with whom we want. That we can become anything we want to be.

As Americans we tend to take our freedoms for granted. I have a good friend, Marina, who grew up in Soviet Russia. And I remember asking her what was the one thing that she really thought was different here in the U.S. than Russia. And without hesitating, she said that here, she could sit in a cafe with her friends and talk about anything they wanted to, and not be threatened with harrassment or arrest. In the Soviet Union, you couldn't do that.

We are so very lucky we live where we do.

So today, when you're chowing down on the hot dogs, and blowing up the fireworks, take a minute to say a quiet thank you to the men (and women) who made it possible. They dserve nothing less.

What's the point of crabgrass?

I'm in the middle of a battle with my yard and I think the yard is winning.

I have dreams of a perfect yard, the kind you see photographed in Southern Living, and the kind that just look perfect, no matter what. And both hubby and I have worked and worked at the perfect yard and truth be told, it's better than it was when we bought the place.

However, the grass, and especially the crabgrass is going to drive me insane.

There are flower beds where we were able to use a weed barrier before we laid down the mulch (newspaper, to be honest, I'm cheap and its organic). Those parts of the yard are looking pretty okay. The mulch is nice and dark, there's no weeds or grass, the flowers and shrubs look happy.

Then there's the flower beds where we really couldn't do that due to the bulbs in them, as well as some of the seeds and stuff I tossed out. These beds can go from clean to a jungle in twenty-four horus. We go away for a few days, and I come back and I have grass well over a foot high waving in the breeze in my flower beds, plus crabgrass creeping around everywhere.

So I've spent the past two mornings yanking the stuff out. I am a sweaty, filhty mess. Because it's absolutely flipping hot out there, and even if I get a good start in the morning, it's still hot.

And it doesn't look like I've made a dent. I did do a walk around with round up this morning and discovered some weed in a back portion of the side yard which was taller than me.

Now that's scary.

I've come to the conclusion that all these weeds have some weird genetic growth spurt thing going. I swear they could grow on a rock with no rain.

I really need a glass of wine.

It is 10:30 at night and it's 80 degrees on my front porch.

Tomorrow the heat index is supposed to reach 100 degrees.

Welcome to summer in the South.

I absolutely hate, hate, hate, hate, heat and humidity. I grew up in the arid West, and although I now consider myself a Southerner (American by birth, Southern because I damn well chose to be), I have never, ever gotten used to the heat and humdity. It's been 15 years since I left the West and I'm still not used to the humdity. I seriously doubt I will ever get used to the humdity.

So, in order to get my walk in, I'm leaving at 5:30 or 6:00 in the morning and it's already hot and muggy. My yard needs to be mowed and the crabgrass and weeds are taking over my flower beds. And it's too flipping hot to go out there and do anything about it, even at 10:30 at night.

I suppose this is why Southerners invented Sweet Tea.

Dads

Father's Day was this past weekend, and hubby and I are driving home from our weekend, listening to talk radio and callers are calling in telling the hosts about the best advice their father ever gave them, and how it impacted their lives.

My father isn't one to give advice, but I certainly listened when he told me to get my oil changed every 3,000 miles.

Anyway.

So most of these stories are heartwarming tear-jerkers about how dad taught them integrity, the value of hard work, honesty, respect, love, and all that wonderful, necessary, character building stuff that parents, and especially Dad's need to teach their kids. And the host of the show makes a comment that anyone can father a child, but it takes a real man to be a dad.

And he's right.

I know this because I see every year dozens and dozens of kids who don't have a Dad. They have fathers, some of them, but they don't have a Dad.

Dads come home from work and instead of plopping down in from of the idiot tube with a beer, they spend time with their kids playing, reading, doing homework, just hanging out.

Dads realize that their kids come first. That you have to make sacrifices in life to be a Dad. That even if you're tired, you've had a bad day, and you just want some peace and quiet, that taking five minutes to watch your kid do a new trick on a skateboard is more important than anything else in life.

I worked with a gentleman once who never, ever, missed one of his boy's baseball games. Never. He got criticized for this up in the higher levels of the corporation we worked for because he wasn't "dedicated to the company", or "focused on results." Ironically, these same people who made the sneering nasty comments about his dedication to his family would bring their kids out on business trips (I was living in California at the time) and then have a company employee take their kids to Disneyland while their Father sat in business meetings all day. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who's going to have the good, well-adjusted kids and who's going to have the drug-adled serial killers.

Children are just starving for Dads in their lives. Mr. Bluebird made it a habit of coming down to my school and playing the game of Risk with the kids in our chess and boardgame club, and it was amazing how those kids just flocked around him. They all wanted to play with him, they all wanted to sit by him, they all wanted his attention and his approval. And when I looked at the kids who were hanging around him, I noticed that most of them didn't have Dads in their lives.

Our kids, and especially boys, need Dads. They need the guidance, attention, and love that a Dad can give. And it's tragic how many of our children are growing up without a Dad in their lives. My Dad was always, always, always there for me when I was growing up and even now that I'm older and married. I can't imagine how my life would be different if it wasn't for my Dad.


We need more Dads.

Walk Like an Egyptian

First off, isn't life boring when there's no kids to talk about?

However, it is much more relaxing. And it gives you a chance to do something I rarely get to do much during the school year.

Travel.

So this past week Mrs. Eagle, myself, and Mr. Bluebird went up to Chicago for a quick visit. Our primary objective was to go to the Field Museum and see the traveling King Tut exhibit. Mrs. Eagle actually has seen it before, in Egypt, when she was stationed there courtesy of the U.S. Army. She's also a confirmed Egypt nut, so obviously a fun person to do something like this with. Then again, Hubby and I love museums and Chicago, so what more of an incentive do we need to go there.

We had a fantastic time. The Field Museum is just spectacular and there's no way you can see the whole thing in a day (they need to sell multi-day passes). We saw as much as we could until it closed and then we had to revive ourselves with good Italian food at a little restaurant that hubby and I have been patronizing for 20 years or so. It's one of those neighborhood places where everyone knows the owners, and they know everyone, and the food is fresh and good and wonderful and filling.

The next day we spent just knocking around book stores, a winery, and touring some historic sites in the outlying suburbs. And eating Italian food again.

Things to remember...next time we go, take a bigger vehicle. We took my Saturn because it gets fantastic gas mileage. However, by the time we finished with the museum shops, the bookstores, and the winery, we were wondering where we were going to put it all.

It was fun, and just what Mrs. Eagle and I needed.

Stupid Pet Owners

Maybe I was naive in thinking that my two months away from school meant I was free from dealing with idiots. Only now, instead of idiot parents, I'm dealing with idiot pet owners.

This past Saturday was a gorgeous, cool, sunny day - just the right day to get the lawn mowed, and some mulch laid down and needed yard work done. So, hubby gets out the riding mower and starts working on the yard. After a bit, he notices a pair of big goofy dogs running around the neighborhood, which isn't good because we live right off a fairly busy street with a high speed limit. One misstep and these dogs are goners. Fortunately, the dogs were hot, saw our garage was open and came in and plopped down in the shade.

We gave them a big bowl of water, which they lapped up, and discovered they had collars and tags on them. Since the house they belonged to was down the block, hubby walked down to knock on the door to let the owners know we had their pets. No answer. Well, we didn't want them to continue running loose in the neighborhood, and we needed to work in the back yard, so we took them back there, put the bowl of water under a shady tree, and basically locked them in our yard so they would get loose.

These are two really nice, friendly dogs. They wrestled, played fetch with a ball and water bottle, ran around, and generally were a lot of fun. In other words, some pretty nice animals to have in your life.

Finally, about six hours later we see another vehicle at the house the dogs belong to and I go ring the doorbell. After about 5 minutes, a lady answers the door, looking beyond confused. She explains that she works nights and just got up (It is 4:30 in the afternoon, and when my dad worked nights, he was up by about 2:00). Honestly, I'm not sure if she just has trouble waking up or if she was stoned.

I introduced myself and told her that I had her dogs, Lucky and Star, in my yard.

She blinked.

I explained how they were running loose in the neighborhood and that we had given them water and put them in the backyard so they were safe and not dead on the street.

"Oh." she says.

I see that I'm not getting very far with this beacon of stupidity so I kind of decided to nudge her along and suggest that she get their leashes or something and come get her dogs since we had to go somewhere and they probably should be back in their yard.

"Oh," she says, finally perking up, "I don't touch animals."

What the ???? You have two dogs and you don't touch animals?

"They are your dogs, right?" I ask.

"Oh yeah, but I don't touch animals," she insists again.

"You do want them back, right?" I ask. At this time I'm beginning to think that these dogs would have been better off if I'd never found their idiot owner.

"Oh yeah, but I don't touch animals." Okay, I get it lady. You don't freaking touch animals, so what's your plan B?

Finally she mutters something about calling her husband and telling him to go get the dogs. Hubby is apparently not home at the time. I again tell her where I live, tell her we're leaving for a prior engagement, and it really would be a good idea to fetch her pets.

She closes the door.

We wait around for a while, hoping her husband (who I suspect had these dogs before he married Miss I Don't Touch Animals, in which case, he'd have been better off with the dogs, and ditching her). He doesn't show and we decided we have to get going.

When we return later that night, the dogs are gone and we assume (our gate wasn't locked) that the husband came and got them.

No note, no thank you, no nothing.

Idiots. Those dogs deserve better.

Saying Farewell

I said farewell to Philipp today.

I'm not going to be able to make the funeral due to a workshop I'm presenting at (that dratted in-service stuff), but I was able to swing by the funeral home for visitation today.

I'm really glad I did.

It was sad, true, but it gave me the opportunity to do something I really wanted to do.

That was to thank his mother for letting me borrow her son for a year or so.

Because, truth be told, that's what parents do. They let us borrow their most precious possession for seven hours a day, 180 days a year. And at times that just blows my mind. I remember once, when I was subbing, I was sitting there in a Kindergarten class (of all things) and it struck me that I was in there - all alone - with 22 five year olds and that people were trusting me to take care of them. Not only to take care of them, but to teach them. And that realization, when it hits you, is absolutely mind-blowing.

Philipp's mother and I had a nice chat and I told her some of my favorite things about Philipp and how I remembered exactly where he sat in my room, in my fourth period class, and what it was like walking to and from lunch every day and how he made me laugh. And how you never, ever could stay mad at him.

She seemed surprised, in some respect, that a teacher from a few years ago when come say goodbye, but I don't think parents sometimes realize how we fall in love with their children.

Every year during the first few weeks of school I have a student ask me how many kids I have. And every year my answer is along the lines of "Oh, about 125." And they laugh and say that's silly, but then towards the last week of school, and especially the last day when they're hugging and crying and saying goodbye, one of them will say, "I know what you mean about us being your kids," and I realize that they get it.

That we do more than teach them. We love them. And then we let them go become the people they're meant to be.

And every night I thank God that he told me to become a teacher.

Because it's the Philipps that you meet in your life that make it rich.

A Truly Good Kid

As a teacher, one of the things that as always been in the back of my mind is the fear that one day I'll open the paper and see one of my former students on the front page. Granted, I would love to see one of them on the front page for doing heroic and wonderful things, but let's be honest...that's usually not the kind of story you see first thing in the morning over your cup of very strong black coffee. The media loves death and destruction (sort of like most seventh graders) and that's what you get.

And unfortunately, that's what I got this morning when I checked the online version of the local paper and read about two teenaged boys who had gone missing last night while swimming in a local creek and were fear drowned.

And since I know where that creek is (right smack in the middle of our school zone) I had this horrible feeling that I'd recognize at least one of the names.

And I did.

It was Philipp.

Philipp isn't going to get a nickname from me because, quite honesty, I couldn't come up with one that truly encompasses all that Philipp was as a kid and a person. And I say was, sadly, because his body was recovered around midnight last night, so Philipp is gone.

And I can't tell you how awful that makes me feel.

Philipp was in my first crop of seventh graders when I started my first year down here. My first year as a real, full-time, seventh grade teacher in my very own room. I had 135 kids that year and out of all of them, Philipp was probably the one that stood out the most. He was funny, extremely funny, and witty and bright although he'd rather play sports and video games than study.

Every day I'd walk my fourth period to lunch and every single day Philipp would jump up and try to touch the ceiling as we walked through the portal to the cafeteria. And every day I would tell him to stop doing that because it was dangerous, and he'd just smile at me and laugh.

We loved to get Philipp to talk because his stories were always interesting and funny. He was actually German and didn't move to the U.S. until he was about ten or so, when his mother married an American soldier. He had wonderful stories about what it was like to go to school in Europe and vacation in places like Spain. The other reason we liked to have him talk was because he spoke with a slight German accent laced with a little touch of Southern (you had to hear this to appreciate it!)

When he was in eighth grade he was having some major problems with his language arts class and I volunteered to tutor him because I had a good relationship with Philipp - don't get me wrong, he could be a handful and drive you up a wall, but he still had a good heart. He was pretty good at math so I'd tutor him in Language Arts and he'd help my seventh graders in math which they just loved because he made it fun.

He was, in short, a kid I would have taken home in a minute and would have been proud to call my own. He was everything you'd want your own kids to be.

I will, truly, miss him.

Bless you Philipp. You touched many hearts.

Hollywood Morons

Yesterday I went, along with a bunch of other teacher friends, including Mrs. Reading, Mrs. Math and Mrs. Language, to go see the movie, An American Haunting.

If you haven't seen the movie, and plan on it, and don't want to know something vital about it, stop reading this right now and go do something else.

For those of you who may not have heard, the movie is based (very loosely as we shall see) on a true haunting of the Bell family from Robertson County, Tennessee. And around here, folks take the Bell Witch (or Kate as she's more familiarly known) quite seriously. After all, the true incidents didn't take place too far from here and it's still a big deal to go see the Bell Witch cave and nearly everyone has a family story about Kate and her haunting of John Bell's family in the early 1800's.

So the idea we had was to go see the movie, then head on down to Mrs. Chicken's house, to see some of the Bell Witch sites. Mrs. Chicken, after all, is a life-long resident of the area and has stories beyond stories about local lore. After all, it's not often that Hollywood makes a movie about a local legend.

But Hollywood did make a movie about a local legend.

And then proceeded to totally blow it.

On the surface, the movie is okay. It's dark, it's creepy, and it's pretty scary. However, if you know a lot about the actual Bell Witch story you're going to be very, very disappointed. And we all knew a lot about the actual story.

And none of us had ever heard that the reason the Bell family was haunted was because John Bell raped his daughter Betsey and he was killed by his wife when the ghost told her this.

Or, as Mrs. Chicken said at the end of the movie, "Good Lord, I've lived here all my life and I've never, ever heard such garbage as this."

So Hollywood had to add incest and sex to "jazz up" what is, on its own, a pretty fantastic story. The silly thing is, if they'd actually included a bit more of the real legend that has been recorded in book after book and article after article, they would have had a better movie. After all, this haunting was known to talk and talk and talk (which it doesn't do in the movie outside of a few stray whispers) to anyone and everyone who would come to the Bell House to hear her - including, of all people, Andrew Jackson. Hundreds of people came to hear her and she never disappointed them.

Unlike Hollywood who seems to always disappoint.

One Contented Kitty

It's summer.

And I'm free, sorta.

It seems like I've pretty much scheduled out my summer already. I've got about 5 days of an inservice to go to on water education, then up North to do two weeks of summer camp, and then finals and the end (at freaking last) of my grad school experience, and then back to school.

And in between all that I have to figure out some way to get a zillion and one home remodeling/repair projects done.

But I can sleep in (which, for me, is 6:30 am, considering that I'm up at 4:45 during the school year), take long walks for exercise (which I actually like), read, knit, do sudoku, and hang out with huppy and my adorable felines.

I've had a number of you ask if I plan to continue blogging over the summer and I suppose I will, although, in all honesty, summer is a lot less entertaining! No crazy kids to yabber about, no wack job parents, no insanity. I guess you'll be subject to tales of me and my yardwork.

Go ahead and yawn.

Whoooo-Hooooo!

We all survived the last half day of school.

And truth be told, it was kind of fun. Then again, my homeroom this year has been the best group of kids I've had and I enjoy them. Which makes it a lot easier. A whole lot easier. If you can't stand your homeroom being trapped with them for a half day can be pure torture.

By 7:30 they'd raided my game closet and had games of Risk, Monopoly, Stratego and Life going. By 8:15 we had the team head outside to play a mini kickball tournament and returned to the rooms by 10:00 so we could eat junk food, sign yearbooks, and hand out report cards.

I was surprised, to be honest, at all the 8th graders that came by for hugs and signatures in their yearbooks. They are making a big step into high school and it's downright scary for some of them to leave the safety of middle school. They're good kids for the most part so they'll be fine.

By 10:45 the kids had their report cards, had cleaned the room, put up the chairs and were ready for The Principal to release them to their buses. With a cheer they just went pouring into the halls, screaming, yelling, hugging and dashing off to the buses.

And then my favorite part of the last day of school where all the employees and the students who walk home, go outside and wave and yell the buses off as they drive off and their final trek of the year. The buses honk their horns, the kids scream and wave back and it's just something you have to be there to really understand. It's fun. It's really fun when a special kid catches your eye as the bus drives by and waves and smiles at you.

And you know you made a difference.

And that, my friends is why I do this.

Go Fly a Kite

Every year, the last week of school, Mrs. Eagle and I (and this year Mrs. Robin joined us) have the kids make tetrahedron kites. Tetrahedrons, for those of us who don't remember our geometry, are four sided pyramids. You basically make them out of yarn and straws and cover them with tissue paper, stack four of them into a larger pyramid and you have a kite.

So today, the last full day of school and the last day I have the classes outside of my homeroom, was the day that we targeted to finish our kites and, weather and time permitting, we went outside to fly them. Only two periods, second and fourth, managed to get flying time, but part of that was because third and fifth (The Class From The Very Depths of Hell Itself) actually had one less day to work on their kites because they had to do "jerk werk" one day as payback for bad behavior. (It is wonderful to have a huge class set of very cool science magazines that you can make the kid read and answer questions in.)

The weather was pefect. Bright blue sky and fluffy clouds and a good breeze. I walked the kids out to the grassy area behind the school and turned them loose. I'm not sure who had more fun, me or them.

So I'm standing there on a slight hill, looking down at the field and at my kids, running around with their kites bobbing in the air. They're running. They're laughing. They are acting like little kids and not the teenagers they're gradually becoming. It was like I was watching the last gasp of childhood before they left me and became teenagers and 8th graders.

And I stood there and realized how much I truly love them all.

Getting there....

We're down to the wire folks.

Or, as Mrs. Eagle says, just two and a half days.

I collected and turned in my textbooks - all present and accounted for! (Thank goodness.)

I am trying to keep them busy so they don't a) kill each other or b) I kill them. So, we're making tetrahedron kites out of yarn, straws and tissue paper. These aren't the easiest kites to build, especially if you're from the world of velcro and can't tie knots to save your life, and that's a good thing. It keeps them busy. And keeping them busy is my priority. Because keeping them busy keeps my sanity.

But you've got to make it fun.

And besides, there's no one I've ever met under the age of 16 who can't resist opening a paper-wrapped straw by blowing the paper into the air. So, we open our straws by having the kids shoot the paper into the air all at once. It looks like a blizzard in the room, they scream and laugh, and it's a complete mess.

And I don't care.

It's fun.

And sometimes, you've just got to have fun with your kids.

All Decked Out

So this past Friday was the night of the 8th Grade Dance, sometimes called the 8th Grade Prom by kids who really want to grow up way too fast. It's a reward dance for 8th graders who do not go over 25 discipline points; in other words, pretty much the good kids.

Mrs. Language and I signed up to work the dance because it really is a nice dance - really pretty decorations, cake, punch, the kids get all "P-Diddied Out" (in the words of Mrs. Cool). Besides, it's fun to see how our little 7th graders grow up . Heck, sometimes its hard to even recognize them.

So we went out to supper, got dressed up ourselves (although I still come across as a bit more granola than I wanted, but when the only decent shoes you own are Birkies...) and enjoyed ourselves at the dance. The kids looked wonderful even if they were annoyed that they still had to follow dress code (no spaghetti straps ladies!) .

Metal Kid (one of my favorite students from last year who is a die-hard Iron Maiden fan and who I love to talk music with) came, and brought one of the nicest, and smartest, girls around - probably the only girl we had last year who wasn't boy-obsessed and insane about clothes. It was nice to see them all dressed up and acting a tad bit grown up for 14-year olds.

It was fun. It's also somewhat bittersweet when you realize that you probably won't see many of these kids again unless you run across them in town or if they come visit from High School.

And that, to be truthful, is just a tad sad.

A New World Record!

We had a new student enroll this morning on our team.

With six and a half days of school left.

Kind of silly, huh? Well....turns out Rude Girl was a truancy case in another district and now Dad has custody and enrolled her. Well, actually step-mom enrolled her and couldn't drop her off fast enough.

And we soon found out why.

During homeroom she mouthed off to Mr. Social Studies who later took her aside and suggested that, with six and a half days left, it wouldn't be a bad idea to watch her mouth - the teachers in this building don't tolerate that kind of behavior.

During first period she made quite an impression with her behavior on her related arts teacher.

During second period we took all the kids to the cafeteria so they could sign yearbooks and she had already hooked up with our biggest troublemakers.

During third period she mouthed off to Mrs. Language who, like Mr. Social Studies too her aside and explained that we do things differently here.

In between third and fourth period she tried to start a fight with another student, cursed, then mouthed off to Mrs. Reading.

By fourth period she was in Mr. Enforcer's office, with Deputy Dude watching over her, and Mr. Enforcer was working the referrals that had been written up about her less than stellar behavior.

She was suspended for the rest of the year.

She never made it to my class or Mrs. Math's.

A new record....

Knock Me Over With a Feather

When I first left the corporate world and went back to school (at the ripe old age of 38) to become a teacher, I had two goals in mind. One, to be finished with school by the time I was 40, and two, to make a difference in at least one kid's life each and every year I teach.

So far I've managed to do both. However, sometimes you really aren't too sure which kid it is that you've affected in a positive way until the end of the year. And even then, it sometimes comes as a complete shock.

For example.

Today, after lunch, The Secretary comes into my room with a vase with flowers in it, and a big balloon that reads, "A+ Teacher" on it. It's Teacher Appreciation Week so I figure the PTO is handing these out to all of us. We have an awesome PTO and that's just the kind of thing they would do. I ask The Secretary if it's from the PTO and she says "no, it was just delivered."

Just delivered? What the...?

Well, I knew it wasn't from The Husband...he's a dear but flowers aren't his thing. He'd rather buy me a book (I do have lots of books).

So I look at the envelope that's attached and on the back it reads "You're the Best!!!...Ever!"

This is getting curiouser and curiouser. Who on earth is sending me flowers???

I open the card and it reads, "Thank you for being so nice and good to me even when I didn't deserve it. I miss you!!! Also thank you for being so patient with me. Happy Teacher Appreciation Day. "

It is from Stoopid Boy.

Stoopid Boy was sent to alternative school two weeks ago, much to my dismay. I just wanted to get him through the year without having to do that, but he had to go and do something "stoopid" (remember the hyperdermic needle?) and off he went. Stoopid Boy was a tough nut to crack, but once I did I absolutely fell in love with this kid. Now there are teachers on my team who would think I need my head examined for saying that, but it's true. He's a great kid, a bit of a goofball and a nutcase, but still, deep down, there's a good kid trying to crawl out. I miss him. A lot. Perhaps because there's part of me that likes the underdog, or a part of me who remembers what it was like to be a geek and a bit of an outcast. I'm not sure. But Stoopid Boy is one of those kids I connect with. I'm not sure if that says something about me, or something about him, or what.

But you could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw who that card was from.

And that just about made my year.

Mean Girls Yet Again

Just when I think I can't be surprised any more, I am.

So Mrs. Eagle and I, who are usually at school by 6:15 which either makes us crazy or dedicated (I can't tell which most days) are up front talking to one of The Secretaries, when the phone rings. It's a parent calling to warn us about a potential conflict between her daughter and another girl on her team. Turns out both girls belong on Mrs. Eagle's team which causes her to shake her head and mutter, "only one more Monday", under her breath. She has, you remember, had the Absolute Team From Hell This Year.

Anyway.

Apparently Mean Girl decided she wanted to cause a problem for Victim Girl and went and posted Victim Girl's phone number, along with a description of a sex act she would be willing to provide, on the internet.

Victim Girl's mother reports that on Sunday they received 140 phone calls from all over the United States from people who wanted to hook up with her daughter so she could provide sex to them.

I don't know which disgusts me more, the fact that Mean Girl (who is very smart, but a brat beyond belief who wants to be "cool" and "bad") would do something so outrageously stupid or that there are at least 140 perverts out there, trolling the 'net, looking to have sex with 13 year olds.

My guess is that this probably appeared on My Space which is all my kids talk about all the time - they are on it constantly, and what I've seen on there really concerns me. (Parents? You out there? You know what you're kids are doing?)

In any case, I heard from Mrs. Eagle later today that Deputy Dude was processing paperwork to bring Mean Girl up on some kind of charges. Don't know what they are, but let me tell you, Victim Girl's mother was hopping mad, as she should be.

Finally Field Day!

The Seventh Grade had field day today. It was actually supposed to be on Friday, but we got rained out and except for the volleyball tournament (which we did anyway because they needed the gym for yearbook dedication today) we had to wait until today. Believe me, we were praying for good weather because I don't think we could have stood another day in class with these kids all hyped about field day.

For those of you who don't know (and I didn't because my schools never did field day), field day is a day at the end of the year where the kids go outside and do all sorts of competitions like kickball, tug of war, sack races, etc. The kids love it because they get to run around and act like goobers, buy lots of candy and hot dogs and nachos from the PTO, and generally burn off some energy.

From a teacher's point of view, it's not too bad although you spend 99% of your time chasing down kids and keeping them from doing anything stupid and dangerous (like having sex or throwing rocks at each other). We did send a few back inside into the "I got in trouble room" where they had to sit for the rest of the day, but all in all it wasn't too bad. The hardest part is rounding the kids up for the events, and then finding replacements for kids who all of a sudden decide that maybe they didn't really want to do the sack race.

The big hit of the day, however, had nothing to do with any of the games, but everything to do with our partners in education. As I've said before, I teach right outside of a major military base, and one of the units at this base is our Partner in Education. These guys and gals are awesome and do a lot for our school, including chaparoning at dances, helping proctor for the State Tests, and painting nails on Go Green day. Anyhow, they helped out at Field Day by bringing a one and a half ton truck and a humvee to the school for the kids to play on.

You have no idea how much fun kids can have climbing on a big ol Army truck. It looked, from a distance, like ants swarming over an anthill. They all decided to see how many kids can fit in the back of the truck and then how many kids can fit in the cab (answer: plenty). The kids loved the humvee as well as they could spin around and get dizzy in the turret on the top. Amazing. The soldiers stood there and laughed. Heck, we all stood there and laughed as it was so funny seeing this huge truck just crawling with kids hanging out the windows, playing with the steering wheel, and crawling in the back.

All in all a good day - no broken bones, no fist-fights, no cuts, no missing kids.

And a big ol' Hoo-ah! to our troops who took the time to make some great memories for our kids.

A Stroke of Genius

Sometimes, maybe only a few times a year, you'll hit upon something that really, truly WORKS. It is rare that you can come up with an assignment or a project that will keep all the kids engaged, that keeps them busy, and that they actually learn something from. When you find something that fits the bill, you've hit upon gold.

PowerPoint is Gold.

Mrs. Language and I are back in our own classrooms, with the laptop labs, and we're having the kids finish up their severe weather projects. They're writing their research paper in her class, and doing their PowerPoints in my class.

The plan was to spend a few minutes at the beginning of each class teaching them how to log on to the server, find their storage area (each person in our building has a storage area on the server which is fantastic - this means the kids can access their work from any computer in the building), set up a PowerPoint, save it, do transitions, put in graphics, etc. I've learned that the best way to teach this sort of thing is a very brief lesson, and then turn 'em loose to play. They'll actually learn more just messing around and teaching each other. After all, there is nothing more boring on earth than watching someone click around on a computer. I know, I've had to sit through in-services like that.

So on Monday, I do my little ten minute dog and pony show and then I turn them loose. They have their note cards, they have their rubrics, they're ready to go.

And ten minutes later I realize that something truly amazing has happened.

It is silent. The only sound I hear is the clicking of computer keys. Every once in a while a hand will go up and I'll go help my kid and move on to the next kid. They are generating absolutely beautiful work. I see PowerPoints with dazzling backgrounds, wonderful graphics, beautiful transitions.

It is almost unnerving.

By Thursday I am completely bored because they rarely need my help. Instead, they are quietly helping each other. Each class has a handful of kids who really dig this techy stuff (and it's kind of interesting seeing who these kids are as they aren't always the top students) who finished their projects quickly and now are working the room helping their classmates.

This isn't to say that all is perfect - they're still acting like idiots in the hallways and at lunch, but at least in my room (and in Mrs. Language's as well, she reports), they are quiet. And they are working. And I am ecstatic.

Strip Tease

You can tell we only have - according to Mrs. Eagle - ten and a half days - left of school because the kids are getting a little crazier every day. Fortunately her kids are even crazier than mine. At least so far they are. Give them time, I suppose, and mine will be ripping off their clothes as well.

I suppose I should explain.

Yesterday morning one of the boys on her team was caught standing outside the girl's restroom dangling a turquoise colored water bra which apparently belonged to a girl on her team as well. For a while there was some debate as to which girl, exactly, it belonged to (there were two possibilities) , but it was finally narrowed down. Perhaps because the young lady in question didn't have a bra on since it was in an envelope on Mr. Enforcer's desk, along with the discipline referrals.

(And for those of you who don't know, a water bra, which isn't cheap, is a bra filled with water or gel to give the wearer a bit more clevage than Mother Nature has given her. What a thirteen year old girl needs with a water bra is beyond me.)

So the question remains...how did Casanova get the bra in the first place? Was it given to him willingly by the girl in question, bringing to mind visions of Molly Ringwald in the movie Sixteen Candles where she loans her panties to the geek (if you don't know what I'm talking about, rent the DVD). Did he remove it? Did she? And why? A dare? He's a cross-dresser? He has a thing about lingerie?

It boggles the mind.

And makes me doubly thankful I'm glad I'm not the parent of a thirteen year old.

Career Opportunities - Not!

Ya'll remember Miss So Fine and her, ahem, wardrobe problems? She's the one who's mother spends a fortune on clothes usually found on streetwalkers or in really tacky hip hop and rap videos. Skin tight, low cut, high cut, revealing, you name it, if it's slutty or tacky, this kid comes to school in it. I've lost track of the times she's been sent up to ISS because of school dress code violations. We've had numerous meetings with The Mother about her clothes, kindly suggested that she wear clothing more appropriate for a thirteen year old, but to no avail. Then again, mom dresses the same way. And The Mother is a lunatic.

Anyway.

The other day Mr. Social Studies is doing his thing and discussing career opportunities with the kids. You know, the old "you better start thinking about your future and here's some ideas for careers you may be interested in" talk. And the kids are responding, talking about jobs they might be interested in (including the ever popular skateboard star and video game tester). And Miss So Fine raises her hand (which in itself is cause for celebration because she's usually completely incapable of following any sort of classroom rule, including something as simple as raising her hand and waiting to be called upon). Mr. Social Studies, astounded that she's actually - gasp - behaving herself, calls on her.

"Well, prostitution is legal in Nevada."

The class goes silent. Mr. Social Studies goes silent. And then changes the conversation to something a little less, well, provocative.

It makes you wonder what dinnertime conversations are like with that family.