Stoopid Boy dropped by for a visit Friday morning during homeroom. This isn't all that surprising as this time of year I tend to see quite a few of the kids I taught last year. They're 8th graders now, and rapidly nearing the end of their time here in Middle School. It's a scary time of year for them. On one hand, they're excited about leaving and going on to High School, but at the same time, it's kind of scary leaving the school they've called home for the past three years.
Stoopid Boy and I chatted a bit about this and that, what he was going to do this summer, what he thought about going on to high school, marveling at the fact that this same time last year found him in alternative school and this year he only has 35 discipline points. This, by the way, is fantastic. Last year I think he had well over 200. I asked him what the difference was this year.
"Oh, I dunno," he said. "I think I'm just thinking about stuff before I do it. And I'm not hanging around with people that can get me in trouble, like Fabio Boy, he's messing with drugs and doing stupid shit." Sad to say, this wasn't the first time I'd heard this news about Fabio Boy, but it was refreshing to know that Stoopid Boy realized that he didn't need to be hanging around with this character anymore.
"Well, I'm really, really proud of you. I always knew you could do it," I tell him.
Stoopid Boy smiles, looks at me and asks, "When did you get short?"
"When you got tall!" I tell him, and we both laugh. He gives me a hug and as he turns to leave, yells over his shoulder, "You're getting a surprise today."
This could mean anything, knowing Stoopid Boy.
However, just like he did last year, he remembered (via mom who works at a florist) that it was Teacher Appreciation Day, and four of us, including Ms. Reading, Mrs. Language, and Mrs. Partridge (his 8th grade social studies teacher) got flowers.
Nothing like having a kid you taught last year thank you for being the "best teacher ever!"
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Stressed? Go Visit the Carnival!
Are you feeling just a tad stressed lately? Counting the days (and minutes) until school is over? Sick of those retention meetings? Getting fed up with kids who've checked out? Well, NYC Educator has the answer for you! Spend some time at this Week's Carnival of Education and chill for a bit! After all, you're not alone...we're all counting....counting....counting....
More Stupid Parent Tricks - Or When Booze is More Important than a Yearbook
Our school yearbook came out this week. And, as usual, Mrs. Art did the most fantastic job on it. It's lovely with full color pictures, quotations from the students "walk' across the pages, the dedication pages to two of the students who passed away this past year were heartwarming- it was just a delightful presentation.
For those kids who did not pre-purchase a yearbook, they went on sale this week as well. Eighth graders got to buy their's yesterday, seventh graders today, and sixth graders tomorrow. If there are any left by Friday, they'll go on sale to everyone.
They are not, however, cheap. At $28, it's a big chunk of change for some of our kids to shell out, but many of them do. It's important to them. We even schedule a period where we take the whole team down to the cafeteria and let them run around and sign each other's yearbooks.
So today a few of my homeroom kids were in line, cash in hand, and they bought their yearbooks. The excitement was intense as they opened them up, looked at the pictures, giggled over how silly they looked, and had their friends sign.
However, one of my girls, Twiggy Girl, didn't get a yearbook.
"I wanted a yearbook," she said to me as she came back from her locker. "But my mom said we couldn't afford one."
"I can understand that," I answered. I really could. I have property taxes due this month.
"Yeah, but she went out last night and bought beer and cigarettes," she replied bitterly. Then she turned and went to her seat.
Folks, kids aren't stupid. You may think they don't notice what you do, but they do. So when you tell them that you can't afford something, don't turn around and go buy something for yourself, especially something that isn't a vital necessity. What you're telling that kid is that your habits and addictions are more important than he or she is.
And unfortunately, for a lot of kids, that's more than true.
For those kids who did not pre-purchase a yearbook, they went on sale this week as well. Eighth graders got to buy their's yesterday, seventh graders today, and sixth graders tomorrow. If there are any left by Friday, they'll go on sale to everyone.
They are not, however, cheap. At $28, it's a big chunk of change for some of our kids to shell out, but many of them do. It's important to them. We even schedule a period where we take the whole team down to the cafeteria and let them run around and sign each other's yearbooks.
So today a few of my homeroom kids were in line, cash in hand, and they bought their yearbooks. The excitement was intense as they opened them up, looked at the pictures, giggled over how silly they looked, and had their friends sign.
However, one of my girls, Twiggy Girl, didn't get a yearbook.
"I wanted a yearbook," she said to me as she came back from her locker. "But my mom said we couldn't afford one."
"I can understand that," I answered. I really could. I have property taxes due this month.
"Yeah, but she went out last night and bought beer and cigarettes," she replied bitterly. Then she turned and went to her seat.
Folks, kids aren't stupid. You may think they don't notice what you do, but they do. So when you tell them that you can't afford something, don't turn around and go buy something for yourself, especially something that isn't a vital necessity. What you're telling that kid is that your habits and addictions are more important than he or she is.
And unfortunately, for a lot of kids, that's more than true.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Why Field Day Was the Pits.
I usually enjoy Field Day. I like getting outside. I like watching the kids play kickball and volleyball and do tug-of-war and all that. It's fun. It's somewhat relaxing. And the kids have a ball.
This year it was awful.
That morning as I drove to school I stopped to get some sunblock since I'd lost mine on the camping trip. It was a beautiful morning, with a few clouds in the sky, a lovely sun rising in the east - a perfect day for Field Day.
Except, of course, by the time we took the kids outside a brisk wind was blowing, dark clouds covered the sky and it looked like the heavens were going to open up on us. They didn't, thank goodness, but that was the only positive point of the whole day.
Due to the cold weather the kids, who are usually baking in the sun and whining about the heat and slowing down somewhat (due to the sun and heat), were wild. Absolutely wild. My mom once said that her horses played more and ran faster in cold weather, and the kids were no exception. Instead of spending field day enjoying the sports and the kids, we spent it on discipline issues and crises management.
We started off with about eight of our special ed kids who were passing around condoms, which had apparently been shoplifted earlier that week. Mrs. Language, Mr. Social Studies and I spent thirty minutes trying to sort that one out. Especially since we weren't really all that sure they even knew what the condoms were supposed to be used for. Let's just say these were the last kids we would have suspected in a condom-passing incident. Amusing moment was watching Mrs. Language interrogate the boy who finally admitted bringing them to school and asking him, "Do you know what these are used for?" and having him hem and haw and stammer and finally squeak out a "Yes, ma'am." Her response? "You certainly weren't planning to do that here at school were you?" I thought he was going to faint from embarrassment.
Then we had some of boys huffing and puffing and talking trash and trying to get involved in a fight.
Then Faraway Girl complained that a boy from Mrs. Eagle's team was touching her inappropriately. Mr. Social Studies got a hold of him and not only did he admit to the touching, but he admitted that he was touching two other girls as well. (He got seven days suspension.)
Then one of our kids got smacked by a kickball in the jaw so I had to walk her up to the nurse, and discovered three other kids trailing us so they could get in the building and get their coats.
Then the workers at the city pool, which sits next to the school, decided to work on the pool which caused the field between the kickball field and the school to FLOOD with up to 4" of quickly moving water. One minute there's a dry field...the next minute we're trying to figure how to move 450 kids through it without getting them soaked.
Then we realized that we had no way to get Scooter Girl through the field as the path she motored down on was flooded and her scooter can't get wet. Thank goodness two PTO moms were there (selling concessions) and were able to take her back to the building in a van, with her scooter (which is amazingly heavy) in a trailer behind another car. We got her in for lunch, but due to the flood and the cold, she decided (unhappily) that it would be better if she stayed in the building for the rest of the day. I felt awful for her, but she's a computer nut and was able to go play to her heart's content on a computer in the library.
And we lost, for the first time that I can remember, Field Day. Out of 30 possible points, we scored...are you ready....three.
That's three.
For coming in third place in Volleyball.
Out of three teams.
It was awful.
This year it was awful.
That morning as I drove to school I stopped to get some sunblock since I'd lost mine on the camping trip. It was a beautiful morning, with a few clouds in the sky, a lovely sun rising in the east - a perfect day for Field Day.
Except, of course, by the time we took the kids outside a brisk wind was blowing, dark clouds covered the sky and it looked like the heavens were going to open up on us. They didn't, thank goodness, but that was the only positive point of the whole day.
Due to the cold weather the kids, who are usually baking in the sun and whining about the heat and slowing down somewhat (due to the sun and heat), were wild. Absolutely wild. My mom once said that her horses played more and ran faster in cold weather, and the kids were no exception. Instead of spending field day enjoying the sports and the kids, we spent it on discipline issues and crises management.
We started off with about eight of our special ed kids who were passing around condoms, which had apparently been shoplifted earlier that week. Mrs. Language, Mr. Social Studies and I spent thirty minutes trying to sort that one out. Especially since we weren't really all that sure they even knew what the condoms were supposed to be used for. Let's just say these were the last kids we would have suspected in a condom-passing incident. Amusing moment was watching Mrs. Language interrogate the boy who finally admitted bringing them to school and asking him, "Do you know what these are used for?" and having him hem and haw and stammer and finally squeak out a "Yes, ma'am." Her response? "You certainly weren't planning to do that here at school were you?" I thought he was going to faint from embarrassment.
Then we had some of boys huffing and puffing and talking trash and trying to get involved in a fight.
Then Faraway Girl complained that a boy from Mrs. Eagle's team was touching her inappropriately. Mr. Social Studies got a hold of him and not only did he admit to the touching, but he admitted that he was touching two other girls as well. (He got seven days suspension.)
Then one of our kids got smacked by a kickball in the jaw so I had to walk her up to the nurse, and discovered three other kids trailing us so they could get in the building and get their coats.
Then the workers at the city pool, which sits next to the school, decided to work on the pool which caused the field between the kickball field and the school to FLOOD with up to 4" of quickly moving water. One minute there's a dry field...the next minute we're trying to figure how to move 450 kids through it without getting them soaked.
Then we realized that we had no way to get Scooter Girl through the field as the path she motored down on was flooded and her scooter can't get wet. Thank goodness two PTO moms were there (selling concessions) and were able to take her back to the building in a van, with her scooter (which is amazingly heavy) in a trailer behind another car. We got her in for lunch, but due to the flood and the cold, she decided (unhappily) that it would be better if she stayed in the building for the rest of the day. I felt awful for her, but she's a computer nut and was able to go play to her heart's content on a computer in the library.
And we lost, for the first time that I can remember, Field Day. Out of 30 possible points, we scored...are you ready....three.
That's three.
For coming in third place in Volleyball.
Out of three teams.
It was awful.
It's Carnival Time!
Dr. Homeslice is hosting the midway this week, so be sure to stop by his place and check out what's being discussed in the crazy world of education!
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Of Algae, S'Mores, Sunburns and Screaming 7th Graders - a Wrap up
So what did I learn from our field trip?
Quite a lot actually.
I learned that this generation of kids is not as familiar with the great outdoors as we are. I grew up in a city but I still had chances through scouting and visits to grandma's farm, to experience things like campfires and shooting stars and fishing. Many kids these days don't even get to go outside and play because there's no safe place to do so. I find this to be horribly sad.
I learned that many things we take for granted are new and different for these kids. It never occurred to me that there were kids who never had a s'more, who never sat by a campfire, who never rode a boat, or walked in the woods, or looked at a wildflower, or just sat looking at the sky at night.
I learned that I made the right decision to leave the corporate world and go into teaching because I never once got the type of satisfaction in business that I got from the look on a kid's face when he caught a crawdad in a net.
Moments that stuck in my mind:
Having a kid tell me that she's never had a s'more before and thanking us for giving her the chance to have one. (She loved it by the way).
Seventh grade girls like to play beauty shop just like we did. When I showed up in the dorm with my hair wet from having just washed it, they all wanted to comb it out and mess with it. I let them.
I had one girl tell me she couldn't remember the last time she actually ate three meals in one day. She was astonished at the amount of food she was given to eat. How sad that there are so many kids out there who consider three squares a day a rarity.
Looking out at the kids when I was telling ghost stories and watching the looks on their faces. I had them in the palm of my hand. Now if I could only do that every day in the classroom.
The look on the kid's faces when they put on their life vests and got on the boat nearly brought a tear to my eyes...their smiles were HUGE.
Watching the kids play with algae and realize that nature is fun, science is cool, and there's nothing so green as algae!
Watching one of my homeroom kids take off on the orienteering course like a gazelle let loose at the zoo. That was, by far, his favorite activity. I could give him a compass tomorrow and tell him to go find something and he'd be out the door.
So did it change the kids we took?
Yup. It did.
They seem a little more mature, a little more calm. They seemed to have found an inner strength in some respects. They take a little more pride in what they're doing.
I handed out progress reports this week and one of my homeroom kids that went on the trip needs to pull his grade up. I handed him his progress report and before I could say anything he said, "I can do a lot better than that." I agreed. "I know you can," I said. "Yeah, I know I can too," he said, and he smiled at me. He's never been that self-assured before.
Not one of them bragged about being able to go on the trip. They seemed to realize that what they received was something special but not something to use to lord it over their classmates who didn't go.
The most interesting thing is how they're relating to us, their teachers.
They don't swing by us and enter the room and then go chat with their friends. They're stopping. They're talking with us, asking us what's going on, how's the day going, what's new? They smile a lot more. I'll be doing a lesson and look up and find one of the kids from the trip looking at me, we'll lock eyes, and they'll smile. They won't look away. When class is over, kids who never once said a word are now saying "goodbye, see you tomorrow" before they leave. They're telling us about their day, about what they did at home, about a problem they're having with another kid or a class or just life in general.
One of the most amazing changes is in how some of the kids view Mr. Social Studies. He's not the warm, cuddly type of teacher - 26 years in law enforcement sort of erased any cuddliness he may have had at one time. He's a disciplinarian with high expectations and he's the teacher the kids love to hate. Later, after they've moved on to 8th grade and beyond they will sometimes come back and thank him for working them so hard and making them think, but during seventh grade most of the kids just can't stand him.
Except now the kids on the trip are bragging about how awesome he is. In my Third Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself, one of the Losers made the mistake of making some sort of crack about Mr. Social Studies, which riled up some of the boys who were on our trip. They proceeded to inform everyone that Mr. Social Studies is truly awesome, that his class is cool, and if you would only pay attention you'd figure out how cool he is.
Amazing.
They're connecting.
The Principal has announced that her focus next year, and therefore the focus of our school, is going to be on building relationships. We did that this past weekend.
And it's created a little bit of magic for 32 kids and six grown ups.
And I'm glad we did it. So very, very glad.
Quite a lot actually.
I learned that this generation of kids is not as familiar with the great outdoors as we are. I grew up in a city but I still had chances through scouting and visits to grandma's farm, to experience things like campfires and shooting stars and fishing. Many kids these days don't even get to go outside and play because there's no safe place to do so. I find this to be horribly sad.
I learned that many things we take for granted are new and different for these kids. It never occurred to me that there were kids who never had a s'more, who never sat by a campfire, who never rode a boat, or walked in the woods, or looked at a wildflower, or just sat looking at the sky at night.
I learned that I made the right decision to leave the corporate world and go into teaching because I never once got the type of satisfaction in business that I got from the look on a kid's face when he caught a crawdad in a net.
Moments that stuck in my mind:
Having a kid tell me that she's never had a s'more before and thanking us for giving her the chance to have one. (She loved it by the way).
Seventh grade girls like to play beauty shop just like we did. When I showed up in the dorm with my hair wet from having just washed it, they all wanted to comb it out and mess with it. I let them.
I had one girl tell me she couldn't remember the last time she actually ate three meals in one day. She was astonished at the amount of food she was given to eat. How sad that there are so many kids out there who consider three squares a day a rarity.
Looking out at the kids when I was telling ghost stories and watching the looks on their faces. I had them in the palm of my hand. Now if I could only do that every day in the classroom.
The look on the kid's faces when they put on their life vests and got on the boat nearly brought a tear to my eyes...their smiles were HUGE.
Watching the kids play with algae and realize that nature is fun, science is cool, and there's nothing so green as algae!
Watching one of my homeroom kids take off on the orienteering course like a gazelle let loose at the zoo. That was, by far, his favorite activity. I could give him a compass tomorrow and tell him to go find something and he'd be out the door.
So did it change the kids we took?
Yup. It did.
They seem a little more mature, a little more calm. They seemed to have found an inner strength in some respects. They take a little more pride in what they're doing.
I handed out progress reports this week and one of my homeroom kids that went on the trip needs to pull his grade up. I handed him his progress report and before I could say anything he said, "I can do a lot better than that." I agreed. "I know you can," I said. "Yeah, I know I can too," he said, and he smiled at me. He's never been that self-assured before.
Not one of them bragged about being able to go on the trip. They seemed to realize that what they received was something special but not something to use to lord it over their classmates who didn't go.
The most interesting thing is how they're relating to us, their teachers.
They don't swing by us and enter the room and then go chat with their friends. They're stopping. They're talking with us, asking us what's going on, how's the day going, what's new? They smile a lot more. I'll be doing a lesson and look up and find one of the kids from the trip looking at me, we'll lock eyes, and they'll smile. They won't look away. When class is over, kids who never once said a word are now saying "goodbye, see you tomorrow" before they leave. They're telling us about their day, about what they did at home, about a problem they're having with another kid or a class or just life in general.
One of the most amazing changes is in how some of the kids view Mr. Social Studies. He's not the warm, cuddly type of teacher - 26 years in law enforcement sort of erased any cuddliness he may have had at one time. He's a disciplinarian with high expectations and he's the teacher the kids love to hate. Later, after they've moved on to 8th grade and beyond they will sometimes come back and thank him for working them so hard and making them think, but during seventh grade most of the kids just can't stand him.
Except now the kids on the trip are bragging about how awesome he is. In my Third Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself, one of the Losers made the mistake of making some sort of crack about Mr. Social Studies, which riled up some of the boys who were on our trip. They proceeded to inform everyone that Mr. Social Studies is truly awesome, that his class is cool, and if you would only pay attention you'd figure out how cool he is.
Amazing.
They're connecting.
The Principal has announced that her focus next year, and therefore the focus of our school, is going to be on building relationships. We did that this past weekend.
And it's created a little bit of magic for 32 kids and six grown ups.
And I'm glad we did it. So very, very glad.
Of Algae, S'Mores, Sunburns and Screaming 7th Graders, Part V
On our last morning of camp, Coach decided to forgo the early morning exercise session for the boys and instead gave them another life lesson - on how to vacuum.
One of the rules at camp was that everyone had to help clean up and that included vacuuming the dining area after each meal. The kids weren't wild about this, but most of them figured out that the quicker they got it done the quicker they could go outside and mess around. Some of the boys, however, were overhead saying that they couldn't help because they didn't know how to vacuum.
Coach took care of that. He marched the boys to the dining hall, gave them each a section of floor, did a brief run through on how to operate a vacuum, and then they each had to complete their section before they could go outside. Another life lesson learned.
Each of our three groups had one more session to do before we packed up, cleaned the dorms, and left to go home. Our group finished the second part of the Challenge Course.
Challenge Courses go by different names, and different organizations operate them, but the basic idea is to have a group of people think outside the box to solve problems as a group. One of the goals of this trip was to develop some leadership skills in our students and this course was one of the tools we used to do this.
And it worked.
The group that I was with had a variety of different kids - boys and girls of different races, different backgrounds, different academic ability, and different economic levels. The only thing they really have in common is the fact that they have the same five teachers for seventh grade. Watching this team of twelve kids work together to solve a problem was fascinating. We saw a different side of these kids and they saw a different side of each other and of themselves.
I won't go into detail on what the course activities were (it would give away some of the solutions to the problems if I did), but suffice it to say that they were fun and challenging. The best part for Mrs. Language and I was listening to them talk with each other to solve the problems. They listened, made suggestions, tossed out ideas, tried things, regrouped when needed. It was amazing. What was almost as amazing is what didn't happen.
They didn't argue. They didn't criticize. They didn't disregard anyone's idea as "stupid". They didn't give up. They didn't call names. They didn't tease.
They were wonderful.
Mrs. Language looked at me at one point and whispered, "this is what it's all about." I couldn't agree more.
The rest of the morning was spent packing, cleaning, and loading up the bus. The kids were tuckered out, and so were the adults. The ride home was significantly quieter than the ride up. In fact, from our position in the front of the bus, we could look back and see 32 heads slumped against the seats, mouths open, eyes closed.
One of our girls roused herself and saw me looking back. "Mrs. Bluebird," she yelled over the noise, "can you tell us another ghost story?"
"Maybe some other time when it isn't so loud," I hollered back. She smiled, closed her eyes, and went to sleep.
We got back to school to find several parents already waiting for us. A few thanked us for giving them a weekend off, others thanked us for giving their kids the chance to do something new. Many of the kids gave us big hugs (and a handshake to Mr. Social Studies) and told us thank you.
It was an awesome experience for all of us. And we were somewhat sad to see it end.
I
One of the rules at camp was that everyone had to help clean up and that included vacuuming the dining area after each meal. The kids weren't wild about this, but most of them figured out that the quicker they got it done the quicker they could go outside and mess around. Some of the boys, however, were overhead saying that they couldn't help because they didn't know how to vacuum.
Coach took care of that. He marched the boys to the dining hall, gave them each a section of floor, did a brief run through on how to operate a vacuum, and then they each had to complete their section before they could go outside. Another life lesson learned.
Each of our three groups had one more session to do before we packed up, cleaned the dorms, and left to go home. Our group finished the second part of the Challenge Course.
Challenge Courses go by different names, and different organizations operate them, but the basic idea is to have a group of people think outside the box to solve problems as a group. One of the goals of this trip was to develop some leadership skills in our students and this course was one of the tools we used to do this.
And it worked.
The group that I was with had a variety of different kids - boys and girls of different races, different backgrounds, different academic ability, and different economic levels. The only thing they really have in common is the fact that they have the same five teachers for seventh grade. Watching this team of twelve kids work together to solve a problem was fascinating. We saw a different side of these kids and they saw a different side of each other and of themselves.
I won't go into detail on what the course activities were (it would give away some of the solutions to the problems if I did), but suffice it to say that they were fun and challenging. The best part for Mrs. Language and I was listening to them talk with each other to solve the problems. They listened, made suggestions, tossed out ideas, tried things, regrouped when needed. It was amazing. What was almost as amazing is what didn't happen.
They didn't argue. They didn't criticize. They didn't disregard anyone's idea as "stupid". They didn't give up. They didn't call names. They didn't tease.
They were wonderful.
Mrs. Language looked at me at one point and whispered, "this is what it's all about." I couldn't agree more.
The rest of the morning was spent packing, cleaning, and loading up the bus. The kids were tuckered out, and so were the adults. The ride home was significantly quieter than the ride up. In fact, from our position in the front of the bus, we could look back and see 32 heads slumped against the seats, mouths open, eyes closed.
One of our girls roused herself and saw me looking back. "Mrs. Bluebird," she yelled over the noise, "can you tell us another ghost story?"
"Maybe some other time when it isn't so loud," I hollered back. She smiled, closed her eyes, and went to sleep.
We got back to school to find several parents already waiting for us. A few thanked us for giving them a weekend off, others thanked us for giving their kids the chance to do something new. Many of the kids gave us big hugs (and a handshake to Mr. Social Studies) and told us thank you.
It was an awesome experience for all of us. And we were somewhat sad to see it end.
I
Friday, April 27, 2007
Where's the Common Sense When You Need it The Most?
It was Field Day today and during the volleyball tournament, Mrs. Language and I took a quick trip to the bathroom and mailboxes which are just behind guidance. We figured we'd better take the opportunity before we all headed outside and wouldn't get a chance. We'd be too busy trying to keep 425 seventh graders from losing their minds.
While we were there we noticed two of our troublemakers from last year sitting there, along with a boy that Mrs. Eagle had last year. They didn't look happy. In fact, they seemed to be squirming quite a bit in their seats. On of ours had his hands clasped tightly in his lap and seemed to be biting his lip. Fabio Boy was there and his feet were bouncing up and down.
I swung by to give the Guidance Goddess a greeting and to ask how her day was going. "Oh it's going great!" she exclaimed. "Come here and see all these referrals!" she says as she hands me one from the top and sort of backs me up around the corner into the teachers lounge. It's obvious she's trying to tell me something without the kids in the office figuring it out.
Mrs. Language comes up and we both look at the referral on the top stack. It's for one of our goofballs from last year. I look down at the incident description. "X disrupted the class due to putting Icy Hot on his genitals."
My eyes must have popped out of my head. I look over at Mrs. Language and her mouth is hanging open with one of those "What the hell?" looks on her face.
Guidance Goddess can barely contain herself. "Yup, they decided to go into the bathroom and put on some Icy Hot and by the time they got to class they were, ahem, feeling the pain."
Mrs. Language and I literally doubled up with silent laughter - the boys, after all, were right outside in the lobby. We both ended up wiping tears from our eyes. What on earth possessed them to do something so incredibly stupid???
So there they sat...
Squirming in their seats.
Tapping their feet.
And biting their lips.
Because that had to really, really, really hurt!
While we were there we noticed two of our troublemakers from last year sitting there, along with a boy that Mrs. Eagle had last year. They didn't look happy. In fact, they seemed to be squirming quite a bit in their seats. On of ours had his hands clasped tightly in his lap and seemed to be biting his lip. Fabio Boy was there and his feet were bouncing up and down.
I swung by to give the Guidance Goddess a greeting and to ask how her day was going. "Oh it's going great!" she exclaimed. "Come here and see all these referrals!" she says as she hands me one from the top and sort of backs me up around the corner into the teachers lounge. It's obvious she's trying to tell me something without the kids in the office figuring it out.
Mrs. Language comes up and we both look at the referral on the top stack. It's for one of our goofballs from last year. I look down at the incident description. "X disrupted the class due to putting Icy Hot on his genitals."
My eyes must have popped out of my head. I look over at Mrs. Language and her mouth is hanging open with one of those "What the hell?" looks on her face.
Guidance Goddess can barely contain herself. "Yup, they decided to go into the bathroom and put on some Icy Hot and by the time they got to class they were, ahem, feeling the pain."
Mrs. Language and I literally doubled up with silent laughter - the boys, after all, were right outside in the lobby. We both ended up wiping tears from our eyes. What on earth possessed them to do something so incredibly stupid???
So there they sat...
Squirming in their seats.
Tapping their feet.
And biting their lips.
Because that had to really, really, really hurt!
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Of Algae, S'mores, Sunburns and Screaming 7th Graders, Part IV
I love Mrs. Language. Mrs. Language brought along her own coffee pot so we could have coffee in our room. This is a girl who knows how to do mornings.
It's six in the morning, the girls are beginning to stir and Mrs. Language and I are in our jammies imbibing in the first cuppa of the day. The fact that we both tend to look like something chewed on our hair all night, had no make-up and were in our jammies was a fact not lost on our little darlings. They were just astounded and somewhat amazed that they saw their teachers - yes! - in jammies, with no make-up, with hair sticking out everywhere.
Whatever. They looked pretty goofy too.
Mrs. Language peers out the glass doors to see what the weather is looking like outside.
"Oh my gosh," she hisses. "You have got to see this!"
I go to the door and look out to see Mr. Social Studies, hands clasped behind him like a drill sergeant, watching our sixteen boys as Coach was leading them through calisthenics. They looked like sleepy little puppets as they flopped and jumped and staggered around in the early morning mist.
You had to love it. Apparently they woke the boys up at 5:30 that morning, rousted them out of their bunks, and put them through their paces.
And all that before breakfast!
After breakfast we broke into our three groups and sent each group off to work on their day's activities. I tagged along with Mrs. Language and the group that had the highest number of our loudest kids - including three kids from My Third Period Class From The Very Depths of Hell Itself (but definitely members of the Non-Loser Minority). Our first assignment that morning was the class on wilderness survival. They learned how to put together an emergency survival kit, what to do when if they get lost, and how to build a shelter. They then got to go outside to an area in the woods and actually build a shelter using branches and limbs. The girls got organized and working together built a very nice, study, and large shelter with very few openings for rain. They even pulled in a log or two to sit on as furniture, and put sunglasses on the roof to act as reflectors for search and rescue teams flying overhead.
The boys put together a circular shelter around a large tree that featured openings so they could shoot at serial killers and bears, but would also allow rain and snow to enter the shelter.
I think the boys play too many video games and watch way too many weird movies.
Our next assignment was the Lake Study (which was my second time around and even better this time). After lunch we did an orienteering course which was an eye opener for all of us. For some reason, maybe because these are only 7th graders, I had the impression that the orienteering course was going to be fairly easy.
I was wrong.
We all got instructions on how to use a compass, how to target your heading, find a point, and walk to it. We were then divided into teams of three kids per adult, and were each given a different colored map. The goal was to find six locations (painted coffee cans) in one hour and to punch our map with the puncher at each can.
And not get lost.
We went to the starting point, the ranger checked our headings and off we went. Up hills. Down hills. Up ridges. Down ravines. Over logs. Through thickets. Into bushes with stickers. Up more hills. Up even more hills.
I had to give my girls credit. They were troopers. We found our first two cans with little difficulty, but the third one was not being cooperative. By this time we had nearly emptied our water bottles, my bad knee (which I twisted slightly on the first day by nearly tripping over a backpack) was acting up, and my girls were starting to slow down a bit. We looked at our watches and decided we didn't have time to continue looking for the rest of the cans, so we found one of the hiking trails that would take us back to the rendezvous point and headed back.
And found the elusive third can off to our left a few paces down the trail. We must have walked by that stupid can a dozen times looking for it!
By this time it was mid-afternoon, hot, and the kids were whining about how they wanted to go swimming. However, we had the Stream Study to do, so we loaded them up in the van, and drove to a nearby stream where our guide handed us all nets and we began to look at the species of organisms that lived in this stream.
This meant taking off our shoes and socks, rolling up those pant legs, and wading into the stream. Some of the kids (and teachers, thank goodness) actually remembered to pack extra shoes that could get wet for this very reason. I'm glad I brought my shoes because the streambed was really rocky and I'm not exactly good at walking across sharp rocks.
The stream area itself was lovely with trees bending overhead with new growth on them, although many suffered horribly in our late hard frost of a few weeks ago. There were ferns and moss along the banks, and wildflowers scattered around. Pretty soon the kids were busy splashing in the water, finding crawdads and fish in their nets. It didn't take them long to get soaking wet, and they all looked like bedraggled refugees from a disaster film. They had an absolute blast, however, and were such great little scientists. We spent well over an hour working our way up and down the stream, and we had a fantastic time. Kids who hadn't really been friends before the trip were now bent over a net checking out the crawdads, rocks and plant life they'd caught.
I was certain that they'd be beat by the time we returned to camp, but they weren't. In the hour to kill before supper they went out and played basketball, picked up rocks by the lake, and tossed a football around.
After supper, as soon as it got dark, we had a campfire for them and made s'mores. They decided to cap off the evening by a game of night tag where they ran around in the semi-dark (there were parking lot lights nearby) and chased each other silly.
But they weren't worn out yet.
Some of the girls wanted me to tell them ghost stories, and we ended up (I don't remember how) in a seating area in the conference center. I've collected ghost books and ghost stories for years and even do a ghost talk on Civil War ghosts for Civil War roundtables, so I was able to pull out a lot of these stories from my memory. I started with four girls, and pretty soon I looked up and nearly all the kids were there.
Listening.
Quietly.
Intently.
I'd stop a story and they'd yell, "tell another one!" and I'd remember another one to tell them. Of course, seeing as how most of them were Civil War ghost stories I had to throw in a history lesson as well, so they may have actually learned something. I finally ran out of stories, it was late, and we all wandered back to the dorms to go to bed.
The boys were dragging their feet and were asleep within minutes.
The girls, darn them, had hit a second wind and we didn't get them settled down until nearly midnight.
One more day to go...Boo!
It's six in the morning, the girls are beginning to stir and Mrs. Language and I are in our jammies imbibing in the first cuppa of the day. The fact that we both tend to look like something chewed on our hair all night, had no make-up and were in our jammies was a fact not lost on our little darlings. They were just astounded and somewhat amazed that they saw their teachers - yes! - in jammies, with no make-up, with hair sticking out everywhere.
Whatever. They looked pretty goofy too.
Mrs. Language peers out the glass doors to see what the weather is looking like outside.
"Oh my gosh," she hisses. "You have got to see this!"
I go to the door and look out to see Mr. Social Studies, hands clasped behind him like a drill sergeant, watching our sixteen boys as Coach was leading them through calisthenics. They looked like sleepy little puppets as they flopped and jumped and staggered around in the early morning mist.
You had to love it. Apparently they woke the boys up at 5:30 that morning, rousted them out of their bunks, and put them through their paces.
And all that before breakfast!
After breakfast we broke into our three groups and sent each group off to work on their day's activities. I tagged along with Mrs. Language and the group that had the highest number of our loudest kids - including three kids from My Third Period Class From The Very Depths of Hell Itself (but definitely members of the Non-Loser Minority). Our first assignment that morning was the class on wilderness survival. They learned how to put together an emergency survival kit, what to do when if they get lost, and how to build a shelter. They then got to go outside to an area in the woods and actually build a shelter using branches and limbs. The girls got organized and working together built a very nice, study, and large shelter with very few openings for rain. They even pulled in a log or two to sit on as furniture, and put sunglasses on the roof to act as reflectors for search and rescue teams flying overhead.
The boys put together a circular shelter around a large tree that featured openings so they could shoot at serial killers and bears, but would also allow rain and snow to enter the shelter.
I think the boys play too many video games and watch way too many weird movies.
Our next assignment was the Lake Study (which was my second time around and even better this time). After lunch we did an orienteering course which was an eye opener for all of us. For some reason, maybe because these are only 7th graders, I had the impression that the orienteering course was going to be fairly easy.
I was wrong.
We all got instructions on how to use a compass, how to target your heading, find a point, and walk to it. We were then divided into teams of three kids per adult, and were each given a different colored map. The goal was to find six locations (painted coffee cans) in one hour and to punch our map with the puncher at each can.
And not get lost.
We went to the starting point, the ranger checked our headings and off we went. Up hills. Down hills. Up ridges. Down ravines. Over logs. Through thickets. Into bushes with stickers. Up more hills. Up even more hills.
I had to give my girls credit. They were troopers. We found our first two cans with little difficulty, but the third one was not being cooperative. By this time we had nearly emptied our water bottles, my bad knee (which I twisted slightly on the first day by nearly tripping over a backpack) was acting up, and my girls were starting to slow down a bit. We looked at our watches and decided we didn't have time to continue looking for the rest of the cans, so we found one of the hiking trails that would take us back to the rendezvous point and headed back.
And found the elusive third can off to our left a few paces down the trail. We must have walked by that stupid can a dozen times looking for it!
By this time it was mid-afternoon, hot, and the kids were whining about how they wanted to go swimming. However, we had the Stream Study to do, so we loaded them up in the van, and drove to a nearby stream where our guide handed us all nets and we began to look at the species of organisms that lived in this stream.
This meant taking off our shoes and socks, rolling up those pant legs, and wading into the stream. Some of the kids (and teachers, thank goodness) actually remembered to pack extra shoes that could get wet for this very reason. I'm glad I brought my shoes because the streambed was really rocky and I'm not exactly good at walking across sharp rocks.
The stream area itself was lovely with trees bending overhead with new growth on them, although many suffered horribly in our late hard frost of a few weeks ago. There were ferns and moss along the banks, and wildflowers scattered around. Pretty soon the kids were busy splashing in the water, finding crawdads and fish in their nets. It didn't take them long to get soaking wet, and they all looked like bedraggled refugees from a disaster film. They had an absolute blast, however, and were such great little scientists. We spent well over an hour working our way up and down the stream, and we had a fantastic time. Kids who hadn't really been friends before the trip were now bent over a net checking out the crawdads, rocks and plant life they'd caught.
I was certain that they'd be beat by the time we returned to camp, but they weren't. In the hour to kill before supper they went out and played basketball, picked up rocks by the lake, and tossed a football around.
After supper, as soon as it got dark, we had a campfire for them and made s'mores. They decided to cap off the evening by a game of night tag where they ran around in the semi-dark (there were parking lot lights nearby) and chased each other silly.
But they weren't worn out yet.
Some of the girls wanted me to tell them ghost stories, and we ended up (I don't remember how) in a seating area in the conference center. I've collected ghost books and ghost stories for years and even do a ghost talk on Civil War ghosts for Civil War roundtables, so I was able to pull out a lot of these stories from my memory. I started with four girls, and pretty soon I looked up and nearly all the kids were there.
Listening.
Quietly.
Intently.
I'd stop a story and they'd yell, "tell another one!" and I'd remember another one to tell them. Of course, seeing as how most of them were Civil War ghost stories I had to throw in a history lesson as well, so they may have actually learned something. I finally ran out of stories, it was late, and we all wandered back to the dorms to go to bed.
The boys were dragging their feet and were asleep within minutes.
The girls, darn them, had hit a second wind and we didn't get them settled down until nearly midnight.
One more day to go...Boo!
Carnival Time!
The weather's fine and it's time for the Education Carnival! Some great stuff here this week so be sure to check it out!
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Of Algae, S'mores, Sunburns, and Screaming 7th Graders Part III
One of the things we had scheduled for the first night was a night hike, guided by two of the rangers. Some of the kids, those who were pretty much city-bred, were not wild about the idea of taking a hike, in the dark, without flashlights.
They also were having a heard time being really, really quiet.
The idea was to help them learn about how animals survive in the night. We didn't use flashlights so that they could let their eyes adjust and acquire their night vision. We whispered and listened quietly to the sounds of the forest in the night. We had them use their sense of smell to see if they could identify objects the ranger handed them.
We split the groups into boys and girls and Mrs. Language and I went with the boys who were a bit wound up. We found out later that they'd located a soda machine and were sneaking pops and energy drinks until we put a fake "out of order" sign on it.
Pretty soon, however, they were surprised at how much they could see and at how bright the moon was and how many stars there were. Our guide took us to a clearing and we played a tag game, in the dark, with one kid as the owl and the others as mice. The owl was blindfolded and the mice had to be as quiet as possible and sneak by the owl. This worked pretty well until some of the mice decided that throwing a water bottle at the owl would distract him and they could sneak by. The owl, fortunately, was fairly good natured even when the water bottle bonked him in the head.
The high point of the hike for them was getting to chew Wintergreen Lifesavers in the dark and watching them spark in each other's mouths. Talk about cool!
After we returned to the camp, we gave them a snack and tried to get them quieted down for bed. It was past ten, they'd been up, most of them, since six, and we were hoping to get them settled down and to sleep. After all, the grown ups were pretty tired as well.
The girls settled down fairly quickly (amazing) but the boys were another story.
They paid for it the following day however. Unbeknown to them, Coach had brought his megaphone. Morning was going to come very early for them.
They also were having a heard time being really, really quiet.
The idea was to help them learn about how animals survive in the night. We didn't use flashlights so that they could let their eyes adjust and acquire their night vision. We whispered and listened quietly to the sounds of the forest in the night. We had them use their sense of smell to see if they could identify objects the ranger handed them.
We split the groups into boys and girls and Mrs. Language and I went with the boys who were a bit wound up. We found out later that they'd located a soda machine and were sneaking pops and energy drinks until we put a fake "out of order" sign on it.
Pretty soon, however, they were surprised at how much they could see and at how bright the moon was and how many stars there were. Our guide took us to a clearing and we played a tag game, in the dark, with one kid as the owl and the others as mice. The owl was blindfolded and the mice had to be as quiet as possible and sneak by the owl. This worked pretty well until some of the mice decided that throwing a water bottle at the owl would distract him and they could sneak by. The owl, fortunately, was fairly good natured even when the water bottle bonked him in the head.
The high point of the hike for them was getting to chew Wintergreen Lifesavers in the dark and watching them spark in each other's mouths. Talk about cool!
After we returned to the camp, we gave them a snack and tried to get them quieted down for bed. It was past ten, they'd been up, most of them, since six, and we were hoping to get them settled down and to sleep. After all, the grown ups were pretty tired as well.
The girls settled down fairly quickly (amazing) but the boys were another story.
They paid for it the following day however. Unbeknown to them, Coach had brought his megaphone. Morning was going to come very early for them.
Of Algae, S'mores, Sunburns, and Screaming 7th Graders Part II
One thing we all have learned in working with seventh graders is that you really can't afford to give them much, if any, down time. Down time means they get in trouble, or have the potential to get in trouble. The goal is to wear them out so they're awake enough to participate, but tired enough to not cause any mischief.
We succeeded in this goal.
After unpacking we met for a brief orientation, split the kids into three groups (their teams for the weekend) and started in on our first activity. I went with on group on the Lake Study which was something I was interested in anyway, since I happen to be a Project WET (Water Education for Teachers) facilitator and since this was sort of science oriented. Of course the kids were, at first, less than enthused about a Lake Study. After all, how fun could this be?
Pretty darn fun, they found out.
We took a huge net and dragged a portion of the lake to find out what types of organisms we would find. This involved a few kids holding one end of the net on shore, while our guide went out into the lake (gotta love those waterproof coveralls) and swung the net around and back to shore. All the kids had to help pull it ashore and then we went through the contents which consisted of an amazing amount of algae (unusual, according to our guide).
The kids loved the algae. We had to sort through it to find fish, then chuck what we didn't need back into the water. The kids took to this like you wouldn't believe. Kids I never thought would even touch the stuff are elbow deep in algae, marveling at its bright green color, its texture, how it dries on their skin, and how funny it smells. One girl was so impressed with algae that she still hasn't stopped talking about it. Nearly all the kids mentioned that they'd never touched algae before.
We found quite a few smaller fish which we put into buckets of water and the kids got to touch and handle before we freed them back into the lake. This was new for them as well.
We then all got into life vests and went out into the middle of the lake on a pontoon boat and took some water samples. We tested for nitrates, ph, phosphates, clarity, and dissolved oxygen. We took Secchi Disks and used those as well to see how far down into the lake we could see.
The best part? Our guide gave each of them a chance to drive the boat. At this point I asked them how many of them had ever been on a boat before. Two hands went up. I then asked how many of them had driven a boat before. No hands went up. The looks on their faces was just priceless as they steered the boat around the lake. After we returned to the dock and headed up for dinner I asked my group if the Lake Study was as boring as they thought it was going to be.
"No!" they shouted. To a kid, they all wanted to go again. I had to remind them that they had five other activities to do this weekend. That seemed to placate them but they all agreed that nothing could be as cool as the Lake Study.
They were wrong.
We succeeded in this goal.
After unpacking we met for a brief orientation, split the kids into three groups (their teams for the weekend) and started in on our first activity. I went with on group on the Lake Study which was something I was interested in anyway, since I happen to be a Project WET (Water Education for Teachers) facilitator and since this was sort of science oriented. Of course the kids were, at first, less than enthused about a Lake Study. After all, how fun could this be?
Pretty darn fun, they found out.
We took a huge net and dragged a portion of the lake to find out what types of organisms we would find. This involved a few kids holding one end of the net on shore, while our guide went out into the lake (gotta love those waterproof coveralls) and swung the net around and back to shore. All the kids had to help pull it ashore and then we went through the contents which consisted of an amazing amount of algae (unusual, according to our guide).
The kids loved the algae. We had to sort through it to find fish, then chuck what we didn't need back into the water. The kids took to this like you wouldn't believe. Kids I never thought would even touch the stuff are elbow deep in algae, marveling at its bright green color, its texture, how it dries on their skin, and how funny it smells. One girl was so impressed with algae that she still hasn't stopped talking about it. Nearly all the kids mentioned that they'd never touched algae before.
We found quite a few smaller fish which we put into buckets of water and the kids got to touch and handle before we freed them back into the lake. This was new for them as well.
We then all got into life vests and went out into the middle of the lake on a pontoon boat and took some water samples. We tested for nitrates, ph, phosphates, clarity, and dissolved oxygen. We took Secchi Disks and used those as well to see how far down into the lake we could see.
The best part? Our guide gave each of them a chance to drive the boat. At this point I asked them how many of them had ever been on a boat before. Two hands went up. I then asked how many of them had driven a boat before. No hands went up. The looks on their faces was just priceless as they steered the boat around the lake. After we returned to the dock and headed up for dinner I asked my group if the Lake Study was as boring as they thought it was going to be.
"No!" they shouted. To a kid, they all wanted to go again. I had to remind them that they had five other activities to do this weekend. That seemed to placate them but they all agreed that nothing could be as cool as the Lake Study.
They were wrong.
But What If They See Red?!
We have seventh grade field day scheduled for this Friday (weather permitting). As per tradition, each of the three seventh grade teams wears either red, white or blue to indicate which team they are on. Events include volleyball, kickball, tug of war, and quite a few others which serves to keep our kids busy the entire day. On my white board is message regarding the events as well as a reminder to wear a red shirt on Friday.
Today, while I'm introducing and discussing our final Severe Weather Project, Doughboy raises his hand. Now, regular readers of this blog know that any teacher who calls on Doughboy is taking a gamble because we never, ever, know what will come out of Doughboy's mouth. Foolish me, I forgot this, and called on Doughboy.
"Why do we have to wear red?" he asks. I stop going over the assignment and explain about the red shirts on field day. Now with almost any other kid I would have been a bit annoyed that we were straying far off topic, but we've learned that Doughboy just lives in a bit of an alternate reality. My answer, however, seems to satisfy him so we get back to the weather.
Doughboy, however, raises his hand again and I, like an idiot, call on him.
"What about the bulls?" he asks.
"The bulls?" I ask. I have absolutely no idea what he's talking about. The rest of the kids in class have all perked up and are listening intently.
"The bulls! They like red! Will we be safe from the bulls?" Doughboy queries. He's obviously concerned and just a tad upset. It dawns on me that he's talking about bull, as in big cow with horns.
"Doughboy have you ever seen any bulls here at school?"
"No, but we have lots of farms around here and I don't think we should wear red because of the bulls!"
At this point the entire class is choking back laughter. They never out and out laugh when it comes to Doughboy because they're used to his questions. They just sort of cover their faces and try be as quiet as they can. I tend to respect them for this tiny bit of kindness.
I decided it was pointless to try to explain to Doughboy that our school is in an older part of town, surrounded by subdivisions and shopping centers and the closest farm is quite a bit away. I simply reassured him that we would make sure that all the bulls were taken away and that he would be quite safe from them during field day. That seemed to placate him.
For now.
I may have to come up with some magical charm for him to wear to keep the bulls away. After all, this is a kid who wears a magical lanyard (with frogs on it) and a special key to keep the dead people out of his gym locker. (The Principal came up with the magic lanyard idea.)
Still, as messed up as this poor child is, he does touch your heart. According to Mrs. Language, he volunteered to read his journal today (a rare event) and answered the question "what are you looking forward to about going into the 8th grade?"
His response was that he didn't want to go to eighth grade. He wanted to stay with us in seventh grade because for the first time, he had teachers that loved him.
How could you not love this goofy little guy?
Today, while I'm introducing and discussing our final Severe Weather Project, Doughboy raises his hand. Now, regular readers of this blog know that any teacher who calls on Doughboy is taking a gamble because we never, ever, know what will come out of Doughboy's mouth. Foolish me, I forgot this, and called on Doughboy.
"Why do we have to wear red?" he asks. I stop going over the assignment and explain about the red shirts on field day. Now with almost any other kid I would have been a bit annoyed that we were straying far off topic, but we've learned that Doughboy just lives in a bit of an alternate reality. My answer, however, seems to satisfy him so we get back to the weather.
Doughboy, however, raises his hand again and I, like an idiot, call on him.
"What about the bulls?" he asks.
"The bulls?" I ask. I have absolutely no idea what he's talking about. The rest of the kids in class have all perked up and are listening intently.
"The bulls! They like red! Will we be safe from the bulls?" Doughboy queries. He's obviously concerned and just a tad upset. It dawns on me that he's talking about bull, as in big cow with horns.
"Doughboy have you ever seen any bulls here at school?"
"No, but we have lots of farms around here and I don't think we should wear red because of the bulls!"
At this point the entire class is choking back laughter. They never out and out laugh when it comes to Doughboy because they're used to his questions. They just sort of cover their faces and try be as quiet as they can. I tend to respect them for this tiny bit of kindness.
I decided it was pointless to try to explain to Doughboy that our school is in an older part of town, surrounded by subdivisions and shopping centers and the closest farm is quite a bit away. I simply reassured him that we would make sure that all the bulls were taken away and that he would be quite safe from them during field day. That seemed to placate him.
For now.
I may have to come up with some magical charm for him to wear to keep the bulls away. After all, this is a kid who wears a magical lanyard (with frogs on it) and a special key to keep the dead people out of his gym locker. (The Principal came up with the magic lanyard idea.)
Still, as messed up as this poor child is, he does touch your heart. According to Mrs. Language, he volunteered to read his journal today (a rare event) and answered the question "what are you looking forward to about going into the 8th grade?"
His response was that he didn't want to go to eighth grade. He wanted to stay with us in seventh grade because for the first time, he had teachers that loved him.
How could you not love this goofy little guy?
Monday, April 23, 2007
Of Algae, S'mores, Sunburns, and Screaming 7th Graders Part I
Our goal, when we came up with this wild idea of a "wilderness weekend", was to provide our students, many of them from broken and/or low income homes, with opportunities to do things they've never had the chance to do before. It was a lot of work putting it together, and Mrs. Language, bless her heart, did the bulk of it and did a fantastic job with it. We had the full support of The Principal because she believes that anything we do that is child-centered, that will help our kids, is a good thing.
Still, many people, including us, thought we might be just a little bit crazy.
And at 10:30 on Friday morning, in a bus full of screaming 7th graders, we thought they just may be right.
We weren't due to check in to the camp until around 3:00 pm, so we had time to do a tour of an 1850's homestead nearby. We broke the kids into two groups and toured the farm, which was a fairly new experience for many of them. Big revelation for them was that there wasn't any indoor plumbing, and hence no bathroom. The lesson that at 13, most of them would already know how to run their own household or farm was a big eye-opener for them as well. Many of them thought that the oxen were pretty impressive because they were so big and the sheep were also high on the popularity list.
We had brought along sack lunches which we ate there in a picnic area along side a little creek.
Lunch was gobbled down and pretty soon half the kids were wading through the creek while the other half had put together a football game using an apple as a ball. I've spent most of the year looking at these kids in a classroom so it was a real change to see them outside playing. First thing that occurred to me was how much energy these kids had to burn. It was almost exhausting just watching them yell and run and scream and jump.
We made it to camp on time, checked in at the desk, got the keys to the dorms and prepared to move everyone in. The kids were waiting, bags and sleeping bags on the ground, bouncing around, eager to get going. We gave the all clear to move into the dorms and the stampede down the hill to the dorms was a sight to see. I found out later that they were running to be the first to get a top bunk. It probably took them sixty seconds to get everything moved in. Bags flew, sleeping bags unrolled, kids screamed and giggled and laughed!
Funny, but at my age, I would have been running to get a bottom bunk!
It's late now, and I'm still not recovered, so I'll sign off. More to come!
Still, many people, including us, thought we might be just a little bit crazy.
And at 10:30 on Friday morning, in a bus full of screaming 7th graders, we thought they just may be right.
We weren't due to check in to the camp until around 3:00 pm, so we had time to do a tour of an 1850's homestead nearby. We broke the kids into two groups and toured the farm, which was a fairly new experience for many of them. Big revelation for them was that there wasn't any indoor plumbing, and hence no bathroom. The lesson that at 13, most of them would already know how to run their own household or farm was a big eye-opener for them as well. Many of them thought that the oxen were pretty impressive because they were so big and the sheep were also high on the popularity list.
We had brought along sack lunches which we ate there in a picnic area along side a little creek.
Lunch was gobbled down and pretty soon half the kids were wading through the creek while the other half had put together a football game using an apple as a ball. I've spent most of the year looking at these kids in a classroom so it was a real change to see them outside playing. First thing that occurred to me was how much energy these kids had to burn. It was almost exhausting just watching them yell and run and scream and jump.
We made it to camp on time, checked in at the desk, got the keys to the dorms and prepared to move everyone in. The kids were waiting, bags and sleeping bags on the ground, bouncing around, eager to get going. We gave the all clear to move into the dorms and the stampede down the hill to the dorms was a sight to see. I found out later that they were running to be the first to get a top bunk. It probably took them sixty seconds to get everything moved in. Bags flew, sleeping bags unrolled, kids screamed and giggled and laughed!
Funny, but at my age, I would have been running to get a bottom bunk!
It's late now, and I'm still not recovered, so I'll sign off. More to come!
A Small Victory for the Non-Losers
If you recall, my Third Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself, has sort of divided itself into two camps, the so-called Losers (the kids who constantly are causing trouble) and the Non-Losers (the ones who actually are trying to learn). Recently the Non-Losers got fed up and began asking me if there was anyway I could arrange to have the Non-Losers expelled, transferred, and so forth. One particular target was Cast Boy, probably the most annoying oxygen-thief in the room.
They gained a small victory today.
Towards the very end of class, I was showing a few pictures of our camping trip when one of the kids, Toeless Boy, recognized the conference center in the pictures.
"Hey, that's from my church camp!" he said. No one responded so Toeless Boy, who thrives on any type of attention, even negative, decided to say it again. After all, this is a kid who was born without one big toe, wears sandals (the only boy on the team who does) and then complains that the kids are picking on him because he only has one big toe. No one responds, so for the third time he proclaims that it looks like his church camp.
"Oh shut up!" yells Cast Boy.
One of the things that I don't tolerate is kids telling each other to shut up. So I got after Cast Boy about it.
And Cast Boy wanted to argue.
And argue some more.
And I warned him that it wasn't open for discussion and he needed to watch his mouth and be quiet.
So he argued that point as well.
So I wrote him a referral which he absolutely refused to sign.
By this point I'm secretly smiling inside because this could be worth maybe a day in ISS. That's a day without this rude, obnoxious twerp ruining it for everyone. I walked it over to the Enforcer, reminded him of my special Third Period Rules, and he said he'd handle it. In the meantime, Mrs. Language reported that many of these same kids entered her 4th period class all a-twitter because I'd written Cast Boy up. They were discussing the fact that maybe he'd get in trouble and would be out of class for a while.
The Enforcer granted their wish. Cast Boy is in ISS for a week.
The other kids will be ecstatic.
They gained a small victory today.
Towards the very end of class, I was showing a few pictures of our camping trip when one of the kids, Toeless Boy, recognized the conference center in the pictures.
"Hey, that's from my church camp!" he said. No one responded so Toeless Boy, who thrives on any type of attention, even negative, decided to say it again. After all, this is a kid who was born without one big toe, wears sandals (the only boy on the team who does) and then complains that the kids are picking on him because he only has one big toe. No one responds, so for the third time he proclaims that it looks like his church camp.
"Oh shut up!" yells Cast Boy.
One of the things that I don't tolerate is kids telling each other to shut up. So I got after Cast Boy about it.
And Cast Boy wanted to argue.
And argue some more.
And I warned him that it wasn't open for discussion and he needed to watch his mouth and be quiet.
So he argued that point as well.
So I wrote him a referral which he absolutely refused to sign.
By this point I'm secretly smiling inside because this could be worth maybe a day in ISS. That's a day without this rude, obnoxious twerp ruining it for everyone. I walked it over to the Enforcer, reminded him of my special Third Period Rules, and he said he'd handle it. In the meantime, Mrs. Language reported that many of these same kids entered her 4th period class all a-twitter because I'd written Cast Boy up. They were discussing the fact that maybe he'd get in trouble and would be out of class for a while.
The Enforcer granted their wish. Cast Boy is in ISS for a week.
The other kids will be ecstatic.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Of Algae, S'mores, Sunburns, and Screaming 7th Graders
This past fall our team got the bright idea that it would be really great if we could take our kids to a local national forest area for a camping weekend. Actually, it's not camping with tents (there's dorms and showers and even food service) but it's in the woods, by a lake, and it offers some great educational opportunities. Due to space, and finances, we couldn't take the entire team (and truth be told, there were a few kids we didn't want to be out in the woods with), so we had to narrow it down to 32 kids - sixteen boys and sixteen girls. We had them write an essay about why they should go and were looking for leadership ability, kids who may not be the top students but who had shown some growth and maturity, and kids who could use a weekend with some positive role models. In short, kids we were hoping would turn out to be leaders in the 8th grade.
Many people thought we were crazy. At times, we agreed. But we'd made the commitment, the plans were made, the kids were hyped up.
This was the weekend.
We left at 10:00 am on Friday and returned at 2:00 pm on Sunday.
For the mathematically challenged, that is 52 hours - straight - with 32 seventh graders.
I am exhausted.
More to come...as I am going to bed.
Many people thought we were crazy. At times, we agreed. But we'd made the commitment, the plans were made, the kids were hyped up.
This was the weekend.
We left at 10:00 am on Friday and returned at 2:00 pm on Sunday.
For the mathematically challenged, that is 52 hours - straight - with 32 seventh graders.
I am exhausted.
More to come...as I am going to bed.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Children Are Not Accessories, or a Tale of Some Real SAP's.
Children are not accessories.
That seems pretty obvious, doesn't it?
Apparently a lot of people haven't quite figured this out. I've had this discussion before, on this blog, and with others in the field of education, but there are times I feel like we need to shout this from the highest mountain top, or perhaps take an ad out during a showing of Survivor or American Idol, because, apparently, that's all some parents are interested in these days.
Children are not accessories.
They are not something you have because everyone else has one, or because your parents are pressuring you into giving them a grandkid, or because you think it will save a relationship, or because you want something to call your own, or because you think it will give you a weapon to wield over someone, or because you were too damn stupid to say no when you were drunk one night and you weren't thinking clearly. They aren't something you can dump on others to raise while you cavort and carry on, pursue a career, or get yourself together. They aren't something you can hide away, neglect, or ignore. They are work, they require time and patience, and if you aren't going to provide them with this, you are going to be in for a world of misery, heartache, and anger.
We have a student I'll call Neglected Boy. Neglected Boy is actually a charming kid, with a big smile, and an outgoing personality. He apparently was a bit of a handful last year, and was non-academically promoted to the seventh grade. He is definitely capable of being successful.
If someone cared enough to see that he was, that is.
See, Neglected Boy has a father who has a successful job and who travels a lot on business and is rarely home. His mother also has a job that takes her away, often overnight and for extended periods of time as well. This family is not hurting financially. At the beginning of the year there was a nanny who signed some of the paperwork that we sent home to be signed for a parent. In short, the parents aren't home. A thirteen-year old and a five year old younger brother are, essentially, raising themselves.
Earlier in the fall we began to notice things - Neglected Boy would often wear the same clothes for days in a row, and in fact, many of his clothes were ill-fitting, torn, and too small. We sent him to guidance to get some clothes from our donation closet. Neglected Boy would also
come to school in need of a bath and a haircut. He would also occasionally ask us to borrow money for lunch as his parents forgot to give him any to put into his account. His behavior could be good, often times was not, and he never, ever did any school work. If he brought a pencil, we considered it a good day. He has, all year, failed all five academic classes. He was s-teamed and the gist of it was that he was a good kid, capable, but who was getting no support at home.
It was apparent to us that this was a kid crying out for attention, and one who wasn't getting it at home. Mr. Social Studies tried numerous times to call home. He left messages, none of which were returned. I did the same. We sent home letters. We never got a response. We never could get them to provide us with a parent email so we could at least communicate that way.
One day Mr. Social Studies knocked on my door, said he'd watch my class because Neglected Boy was being dismissed so someone must be in the front office to pick him up. The idea was that I'd try to set up a parent meeting at that time. I went up, met Mr. Neglected Boy, introduced myself and tried to set up a meeting.
"I'm too busy to come by," he said.
"You do realize that he's in danger of failing again this year, don't you?" I asked him.
He stared at the ceiling, obviously bored with this conversation. "Yeah, whatever, I just don't have the time," he said again - in front of his son, who was kicking at the tiles, and looking at the floor.
"Can you set up an appointment when you return from your business trip?" I asked. "Any time or day would work."
"Yeah, maybe. I'll call when I get back," he said as he turned to go to the door. Needless to say, he never called.
Mrs. Language did get him on the phone a few months later, when she was filling in as an administrator and working on a suspension for Neglected Boy who had done something stupid (I can't even remember what) and he was less than excited to be talking with her. "Look, he said, "I don't care about meeting with you because I don't care about his academics. That's not my problem." Mrs. Language decided that this father was a perfect example of a SAP - a Stupid Assed Parent. We all agreed.
One day Neglected Boy actually started talking a bit about his home life with Mr. Social Studies and Mrs. Math and we put a few more facts together and realized that the nanny was gone and there was no adult home with Neglected Boy and his little brother. We made a DCS call, they responded (promptly, which surprised us), and they had the same problems we had trying to get into contact with an adult. Neglected Boy was assigned a caseworker, and his mother went nuts, and set up a meeting with the Guidance Goober....and never showed.
Today, at lunch, Neglected Boy walked by The Enforcer and the Enforcer's radar went up. He smelled alcohol. Deputy Smooth and The Enforcer pulled Neglected Boy aside, and he admitted to drinking. He had a water bottle in his locker but it wasn't full of water. Rumor has it he confessed to not only having the alcohol, but also some pot in his locker as well. I'm not sure what the outcome will be on this, but he's gone for the rest of the school year.
This is a kid who has been crying out for attention all year. We have tried, and tried, and tried to get the parents to talk to us, to show that they care, to realize that they have a great kid here, but one who needs guidance, attention, love and support - and they shut us out. They are not interested. I have seen people lavish more attention and care on their pets than these people spend on their child. All of us have tried to counsel this child, to make him realize that he would have to make the decisions to change his life, but we couldn't follow him home, make sure he had a hot meal, or got to bed on time, or did his homework, or even had a hug.
So now these parents have a kid with an alcohol problem, a kid who's failed all his classes - again-, and a kid who's going to be up in front of a judge for, at the minimum, a citation for having alcohol in school. If something doesn't happen, and fast, this is a kid who's looking at a lifetime of misery, and all of it, in my opinion, is the result of being nothing more than an accessory for the people who brought him into this world.
And I can't begin to tell you how angry this makes me.
That seems pretty obvious, doesn't it?
Apparently a lot of people haven't quite figured this out. I've had this discussion before, on this blog, and with others in the field of education, but there are times I feel like we need to shout this from the highest mountain top, or perhaps take an ad out during a showing of Survivor or American Idol, because, apparently, that's all some parents are interested in these days.
Children are not accessories.
They are not something you have because everyone else has one, or because your parents are pressuring you into giving them a grandkid, or because you think it will save a relationship, or because you want something to call your own, or because you think it will give you a weapon to wield over someone, or because you were too damn stupid to say no when you were drunk one night and you weren't thinking clearly. They aren't something you can dump on others to raise while you cavort and carry on, pursue a career, or get yourself together. They aren't something you can hide away, neglect, or ignore. They are work, they require time and patience, and if you aren't going to provide them with this, you are going to be in for a world of misery, heartache, and anger.
We have a student I'll call Neglected Boy. Neglected Boy is actually a charming kid, with a big smile, and an outgoing personality. He apparently was a bit of a handful last year, and was non-academically promoted to the seventh grade. He is definitely capable of being successful.
If someone cared enough to see that he was, that is.
See, Neglected Boy has a father who has a successful job and who travels a lot on business and is rarely home. His mother also has a job that takes her away, often overnight and for extended periods of time as well. This family is not hurting financially. At the beginning of the year there was a nanny who signed some of the paperwork that we sent home to be signed for a parent. In short, the parents aren't home. A thirteen-year old and a five year old younger brother are, essentially, raising themselves.
Earlier in the fall we began to notice things - Neglected Boy would often wear the same clothes for days in a row, and in fact, many of his clothes were ill-fitting, torn, and too small. We sent him to guidance to get some clothes from our donation closet. Neglected Boy would also
come to school in need of a bath and a haircut. He would also occasionally ask us to borrow money for lunch as his parents forgot to give him any to put into his account. His behavior could be good, often times was not, and he never, ever did any school work. If he brought a pencil, we considered it a good day. He has, all year, failed all five academic classes. He was s-teamed and the gist of it was that he was a good kid, capable, but who was getting no support at home.
It was apparent to us that this was a kid crying out for attention, and one who wasn't getting it at home. Mr. Social Studies tried numerous times to call home. He left messages, none of which were returned. I did the same. We sent home letters. We never got a response. We never could get them to provide us with a parent email so we could at least communicate that way.
One day Mr. Social Studies knocked on my door, said he'd watch my class because Neglected Boy was being dismissed so someone must be in the front office to pick him up. The idea was that I'd try to set up a parent meeting at that time. I went up, met Mr. Neglected Boy, introduced myself and tried to set up a meeting.
"I'm too busy to come by," he said.
"You do realize that he's in danger of failing again this year, don't you?" I asked him.
He stared at the ceiling, obviously bored with this conversation. "Yeah, whatever, I just don't have the time," he said again - in front of his son, who was kicking at the tiles, and looking at the floor.
"Can you set up an appointment when you return from your business trip?" I asked. "Any time or day would work."
"Yeah, maybe. I'll call when I get back," he said as he turned to go to the door. Needless to say, he never called.
Mrs. Language did get him on the phone a few months later, when she was filling in as an administrator and working on a suspension for Neglected Boy who had done something stupid (I can't even remember what) and he was less than excited to be talking with her. "Look, he said, "I don't care about meeting with you because I don't care about his academics. That's not my problem." Mrs. Language decided that this father was a perfect example of a SAP - a Stupid Assed Parent. We all agreed.
One day Neglected Boy actually started talking a bit about his home life with Mr. Social Studies and Mrs. Math and we put a few more facts together and realized that the nanny was gone and there was no adult home with Neglected Boy and his little brother. We made a DCS call, they responded (promptly, which surprised us), and they had the same problems we had trying to get into contact with an adult. Neglected Boy was assigned a caseworker, and his mother went nuts, and set up a meeting with the Guidance Goober....and never showed.
Today, at lunch, Neglected Boy walked by The Enforcer and the Enforcer's radar went up. He smelled alcohol. Deputy Smooth and The Enforcer pulled Neglected Boy aside, and he admitted to drinking. He had a water bottle in his locker but it wasn't full of water. Rumor has it he confessed to not only having the alcohol, but also some pot in his locker as well. I'm not sure what the outcome will be on this, but he's gone for the rest of the school year.
This is a kid who has been crying out for attention all year. We have tried, and tried, and tried to get the parents to talk to us, to show that they care, to realize that they have a great kid here, but one who needs guidance, attention, love and support - and they shut us out. They are not interested. I have seen people lavish more attention and care on their pets than these people spend on their child. All of us have tried to counsel this child, to make him realize that he would have to make the decisions to change his life, but we couldn't follow him home, make sure he had a hot meal, or got to bed on time, or did his homework, or even had a hug.
So now these parents have a kid with an alcohol problem, a kid who's failed all his classes - again-, and a kid who's going to be up in front of a judge for, at the minimum, a citation for having alcohol in school. If something doesn't happen, and fast, this is a kid who's looking at a lifetime of misery, and all of it, in my opinion, is the result of being nothing more than an accessory for the people who brought him into this world.
And I can't begin to tell you how angry this makes me.
By Golly, It's Carnival Time!
In the seemingly never-ending flurry of testing, grading, and managing, it's nice to go hang out at the carnival for a few hours. Be sure to sit down and check out this week's edition, hosted by DY/DAN. I'm sure you'll find something interesting and downright entertaining!
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Excuse me while I rearrange my paper clips.
Two days down, two days to go of the Very Big Deal State Mandated Tests.
There truly is nothing more boring than three hours of watching kids take a test. Honestly. I'd almost rather watch paint dry. After all, paint does change colors as it dries. These kids just look more cranky as time goes by.
For some of our kids, namely the ones diagnosed with ADHD, it's absolute torture to have to sit still and quiet for the time it takes to administer these tests. You can almost see their skin crawl as they wiggle and squirm and try to be as quiet as they can without losing their minds. I wonder if it's something like watching a drug addict go through withdrawals. I suspect it is.
At least I can walk around, hand out a tissue here and there, pass out a newly sharpened pencil, and check my email once in a while. But still, jeez, there's only so much you can do and still keep on eye on these critters.
So by the time first period actually rolled around and we were through with the test, I was ready to get out of the classroom.
Consequently, I did an outside activity where the kids had to be water molecules and move through 9 stations - clouds, plants, rivers, groundwater, etc. - which got us all outside, got them running, and actually worked as a review for their science portion of the test tomorrow. Even the kids who normally don't do much except suck in air were participating, but hey, we were outside, we had a chance to run off some pent-up energy, and it didn't bother anyone. It was a nice change of pace.
Mr. Enforcer came by while we were running around in the courtyard area behind my room and shook his head. "Okay, what are they doing?" he asked.
"They're water molecules moving through the water cycle," I say as several kids squeal, roll the dice at their station, write down their destination, and trot off to the next station. "Or, to be more specific, I'm trying to burn off their extra energy so they don't drive us crazy all week."
"Good move," he said.
I'll say. On Thursday Mrs. Eagle and I are taking them out with frisbees. Our lesson plan states that we'll be preparing them for 8th grade science by introducing them to velocity and motion.
Yeah, whatever. As long as they're burning off energy, I'll find a way to justify it.
There truly is nothing more boring than three hours of watching kids take a test. Honestly. I'd almost rather watch paint dry. After all, paint does change colors as it dries. These kids just look more cranky as time goes by.
For some of our kids, namely the ones diagnosed with ADHD, it's absolute torture to have to sit still and quiet for the time it takes to administer these tests. You can almost see their skin crawl as they wiggle and squirm and try to be as quiet as they can without losing their minds. I wonder if it's something like watching a drug addict go through withdrawals. I suspect it is.
At least I can walk around, hand out a tissue here and there, pass out a newly sharpened pencil, and check my email once in a while. But still, jeez, there's only so much you can do and still keep on eye on these critters.
So by the time first period actually rolled around and we were through with the test, I was ready to get out of the classroom.
Consequently, I did an outside activity where the kids had to be water molecules and move through 9 stations - clouds, plants, rivers, groundwater, etc. - which got us all outside, got them running, and actually worked as a review for their science portion of the test tomorrow. Even the kids who normally don't do much except suck in air were participating, but hey, we were outside, we had a chance to run off some pent-up energy, and it didn't bother anyone. It was a nice change of pace.
Mr. Enforcer came by while we were running around in the courtyard area behind my room and shook his head. "Okay, what are they doing?" he asked.
"They're water molecules moving through the water cycle," I say as several kids squeal, roll the dice at their station, write down their destination, and trot off to the next station. "Or, to be more specific, I'm trying to burn off their extra energy so they don't drive us crazy all week."
"Good move," he said.
I'll say. On Thursday Mrs. Eagle and I are taking them out with frisbees. Our lesson plan states that we'll be preparing them for 8th grade science by introducing them to velocity and motion.
Yeah, whatever. As long as they're burning off energy, I'll find a way to justify it.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Off With Their Heads!
My Third Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself is beginning come apart at the seams.
This is not necessarily a bad thing.
If you recall, my Third Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself has a set of special rules. It also has a very interesting group of kids who seem to attract trouble like magnets. If a kid is a behavior problem, has been non-academically promoted, is "visiting" from the emotionally disturbed unit, has a probation officer, or just ingests too much sugar and caffeine on a regular basis, that kid is probably in this class. Like I said before, I feel sorry for the other half of the class who actually care about learning and are getting fed up with the antics of the "losers" (their word, not mine) that continually cause the entire class to get into trouble.
This group of kids, the non-Losers so to speak, are starting to get absolutely, totally, irrevocably pissed off at the Losers. They are ready to revolt.
On Wednesday the class was beyond horrible. I was attempting to do a cell review bingo game using kidney beans as bingo markers and they completely lost control. They couldn't handle the fact that they had something in their hands that could be easily thrown, so throw them they did. (This despite the very precise verbal instructions about what would happen if they did this, the discussion about maturity, about how they were almost 8th graders, blah, blah, blah) I had to shut the game down and turn them lose on seatwork review worksheets before I lost my mind. (The remaining classes didn't get the bingo marker kidney beans...they had to use pieces of paper which don't sail through the air as well.)
The non-Losers weren't happy as they were having fun with the game and were eager for a chance to win a Jolly Rancher. They pouted and scowled and stared daggers at the Losers.
Thursday was a bit better as I basically laid down the law, again, very quietly and firmly which completely freaks them out. They were able to handle, barely, an activity involving pipe cleaners and beads and making models of compounds.
Today, a Friday, and a day with a school dance (recipe for disaster) they were out of control again. I had, however, planned two lessons...just in case they couldn't handle the activity I wanted to do with them. I began the period with a lesson on how to take The Very Big Deal State Mandated Tests which begin next week. These kids have never been taught test-taking skills such as how to highlight key words, cross out obviously wrong answers, and so on. The idea was to reward the classes that did well by giving them a chance to do some drawing and coloring (actually I had each table draw and label a poster of a plant or animal cell - from memory - to see if they could remember all they needed to for the The Very Big Deal State Mandated Tests. ) However, for classes that couldn't control themselves there were more than enough questions in the sample test packet to keep them busy all period.
The Losers from The Third Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself couldn't even keep quiet, still, and focused enough to do the highlight test packet activity so - surprise! - they didn't get to do the posters.
The Non-Losers were MAD.
"Mrs. Bluebird!" they wailed, "Can't you kick them all out of the class?"
"Can't you have their schedule changed?"
"We hate them, they ruin it for everybody!"
"Class was fun when they were gone!"
One boy, the infamous Cast Boy (the only thing he's done good all year was clock Rude Boy with his cast), who's in the middle of Every Incident that Causes a Problem, was a particular target.
"It's all your fault, Cast Boy! If you could control yourself we wouldn't get stuck doing stupid stuff all the time!"
Interesting enough, two of Cast Boys little buddies are now distancing themselves from him because they are, in the words of Wide Eyed Boy, "sick and tired of trying to be good and having him ruin it all the time."
I finally got them settled down and working - with threats of severe repercussions if they so much as breathed a word at anyone - but the Non-Losers were still obviously very mad and the Losers were, for once, starting to look a bit uncomfortable.
For probably the first time in their lives, their peers didn't find them funny, or amusing, or even remotely cool.
This is not necessarily a bad thing.
If you recall, my Third Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself has a set of special rules. It also has a very interesting group of kids who seem to attract trouble like magnets. If a kid is a behavior problem, has been non-academically promoted, is "visiting" from the emotionally disturbed unit, has a probation officer, or just ingests too much sugar and caffeine on a regular basis, that kid is probably in this class. Like I said before, I feel sorry for the other half of the class who actually care about learning and are getting fed up with the antics of the "losers" (their word, not mine) that continually cause the entire class to get into trouble.
This group of kids, the non-Losers so to speak, are starting to get absolutely, totally, irrevocably pissed off at the Losers. They are ready to revolt.
On Wednesday the class was beyond horrible. I was attempting to do a cell review bingo game using kidney beans as bingo markers and they completely lost control. They couldn't handle the fact that they had something in their hands that could be easily thrown, so throw them they did. (This despite the very precise verbal instructions about what would happen if they did this, the discussion about maturity, about how they were almost 8th graders, blah, blah, blah) I had to shut the game down and turn them lose on seatwork review worksheets before I lost my mind. (The remaining classes didn't get the bingo marker kidney beans...they had to use pieces of paper which don't sail through the air as well.)
The non-Losers weren't happy as they were having fun with the game and were eager for a chance to win a Jolly Rancher. They pouted and scowled and stared daggers at the Losers.
Thursday was a bit better as I basically laid down the law, again, very quietly and firmly which completely freaks them out. They were able to handle, barely, an activity involving pipe cleaners and beads and making models of compounds.
Today, a Friday, and a day with a school dance (recipe for disaster) they were out of control again. I had, however, planned two lessons...just in case they couldn't handle the activity I wanted to do with them. I began the period with a lesson on how to take The Very Big Deal State Mandated Tests which begin next week. These kids have never been taught test-taking skills such as how to highlight key words, cross out obviously wrong answers, and so on. The idea was to reward the classes that did well by giving them a chance to do some drawing and coloring (actually I had each table draw and label a poster of a plant or animal cell - from memory - to see if they could remember all they needed to for the The Very Big Deal State Mandated Tests. ) However, for classes that couldn't control themselves there were more than enough questions in the sample test packet to keep them busy all period.
The Losers from The Third Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself couldn't even keep quiet, still, and focused enough to do the highlight test packet activity so - surprise! - they didn't get to do the posters.
The Non-Losers were MAD.
"Mrs. Bluebird!" they wailed, "Can't you kick them all out of the class?"
"Can't you have their schedule changed?"
"We hate them, they ruin it for everybody!"
"Class was fun when they were gone!"
One boy, the infamous Cast Boy (the only thing he's done good all year was clock Rude Boy with his cast), who's in the middle of Every Incident that Causes a Problem, was a particular target.
"It's all your fault, Cast Boy! If you could control yourself we wouldn't get stuck doing stupid stuff all the time!"
Interesting enough, two of Cast Boys little buddies are now distancing themselves from him because they are, in the words of Wide Eyed Boy, "sick and tired of trying to be good and having him ruin it all the time."
I finally got them settled down and working - with threats of severe repercussions if they so much as breathed a word at anyone - but the Non-Losers were still obviously very mad and the Losers were, for once, starting to look a bit uncomfortable.
For probably the first time in their lives, their peers didn't find them funny, or amusing, or even remotely cool.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Slow down this growing up stuff, okay?
Nearly four years ago, on the very first day of school at my first permanent, full-time teaching job, a fresh-faced seventh grader in my homeroom stuck out her hand and introduced herself.
"Hi, I'm Talky Girl and I talk alot! But I'm really nice!"
And she was. And she did talk a lot. But she made that first year a little bit more bearable. It was a rough year for me personally (moving 600 miles to start a new career, the passing of my mother-in-law, being separated from Hubby while he dealt with his mother's estate and selling our house, plus my mother nearly losing her home in the San Diego fires, to name just a few of the bumps in my road.) I was doing my best to keep my head above water and kids like Talky Girl made it a little easier. She was a good kid, an average student, but a kid ready with a laugh and a hug. She once told me that she spent more time with me than she did with her own mom and would sometimes slip and call me mom. She'd realize her mistake and just giggle and giggle.
I have her sister this year and she's a delightful child as well. She's very quiet compared to her older sister (perhaps she hasn't ever been able to get a word in edgewise). She's rarely absent so I was a bit surprised today when she wasn't in school.
"Oh, she's out today because her sister was having her baby last night," the kids informed me.
"Really?" I said, thinking it must be another sister.
I found out later that day that it wasn't an older sister. It was Talky Girl. She's barely fifteen and is finishing up her sophomore year at The High School.
I can't tell you how this saddens me. I last saw Talky Girl this fall (and she must have already been pregnant at the time) and she was just raving about how much fun high school was and how she loved being on the color guard team and she was doing really good with her grades.
And now she has a baby.
And she doesn't even have a driver's license.
"Hi, I'm Talky Girl and I talk alot! But I'm really nice!"
And she was. And she did talk a lot. But she made that first year a little bit more bearable. It was a rough year for me personally (moving 600 miles to start a new career, the passing of my mother-in-law, being separated from Hubby while he dealt with his mother's estate and selling our house, plus my mother nearly losing her home in the San Diego fires, to name just a few of the bumps in my road.) I was doing my best to keep my head above water and kids like Talky Girl made it a little easier. She was a good kid, an average student, but a kid ready with a laugh and a hug. She once told me that she spent more time with me than she did with her own mom and would sometimes slip and call me mom. She'd realize her mistake and just giggle and giggle.
I have her sister this year and she's a delightful child as well. She's very quiet compared to her older sister (perhaps she hasn't ever been able to get a word in edgewise). She's rarely absent so I was a bit surprised today when she wasn't in school.
"Oh, she's out today because her sister was having her baby last night," the kids informed me.
"Really?" I said, thinking it must be another sister.
I found out later that day that it wasn't an older sister. It was Talky Girl. She's barely fifteen and is finishing up her sophomore year at The High School.
I can't tell you how this saddens me. I last saw Talky Girl this fall (and she must have already been pregnant at the time) and she was just raving about how much fun high school was and how she loved being on the color guard team and she was doing really good with her grades.
And now she has a baby.
And she doesn't even have a driver's license.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Anyone have any explosives handy?
Six weeks to go.
Or, as the optimists put it, only 28 days - with kids. The days without kids don't really count.
The kids came back, whining and moaning about how bored they'd been over the break. The weather started off fantastic, and then we ended up with what they call a Dogwood Winter. Temps dropping to 17 degrees overnight, even a bit of snow there towards the end of the week. So the kids apparently spent most of the break freezing and whining about how cold it was and stayed inside the house playing video games.
I guess very few of them thought of taking advantage of the time to read a book.
Mr. Bluebird and I spent the last few days of break working on landscape projects - in the freezing cold - which I suppose is better than working on them when it's in the 90's and humid. Fortunately we didn't go nuts and plant anything (just laying brick, digging, and all the hard work before you plant things). What we already have - the crepe myrtles, the hostas, the fall mums, the tulips, the hibiscus, lilac, butterfly bush, and even the ireses - all got hit hard by the deep freeze.
I also think the kids' brains got hit by the deep freeze.
We're still reviewing for the Big Deal State Mandated Test which will be next week. We try to make the review as fun and as interesting as we can - lots of mini-labs, hands on activities, discussions, and so forth. It usually works out pretty well, the kids like it, and it's effective.
On Monday morning I felt like I was teaching a bunch of zombies.
They sat there. They didn't raise their hands. They didn't blink. They just starred blankly ahead of them. I finally got so frustrated with my first period I simply stopped, told them to stand up, and made them flap their arms and jump up and down to get the blood flowing.
Of course they all thought I'd lost my mind.
And truth be told, I thought I might just have. Finally by fourth period the kids perked up a bit and actually began to show some life and weren't some little oxygen thieves sucking the energy out the room. Thank goodness. I thought I was going to have to start doing magic tricks or setting off explosions to get them to wake up.
I need to stock up on Diet Coke and Mentos.
28 days....
Or, as the optimists put it, only 28 days - with kids. The days without kids don't really count.
The kids came back, whining and moaning about how bored they'd been over the break. The weather started off fantastic, and then we ended up with what they call a Dogwood Winter. Temps dropping to 17 degrees overnight, even a bit of snow there towards the end of the week. So the kids apparently spent most of the break freezing and whining about how cold it was and stayed inside the house playing video games.
I guess very few of them thought of taking advantage of the time to read a book.
Mr. Bluebird and I spent the last few days of break working on landscape projects - in the freezing cold - which I suppose is better than working on them when it's in the 90's and humid. Fortunately we didn't go nuts and plant anything (just laying brick, digging, and all the hard work before you plant things). What we already have - the crepe myrtles, the hostas, the fall mums, the tulips, the hibiscus, lilac, butterfly bush, and even the ireses - all got hit hard by the deep freeze.
I also think the kids' brains got hit by the deep freeze.
We're still reviewing for the Big Deal State Mandated Test which will be next week. We try to make the review as fun and as interesting as we can - lots of mini-labs, hands on activities, discussions, and so forth. It usually works out pretty well, the kids like it, and it's effective.
On Monday morning I felt like I was teaching a bunch of zombies.
They sat there. They didn't raise their hands. They didn't blink. They just starred blankly ahead of them. I finally got so frustrated with my first period I simply stopped, told them to stand up, and made them flap their arms and jump up and down to get the blood flowing.
Of course they all thought I'd lost my mind.
And truth be told, I thought I might just have. Finally by fourth period the kids perked up a bit and actually began to show some life and weren't some little oxygen thieves sucking the energy out the room. Thank goodness. I thought I was going to have to start doing magic tricks or setting off explosions to get them to wake up.
I need to stock up on Diet Coke and Mentos.
28 days....
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Hey, let's go to the Carnival!
It's Spring! What better time to go to the Carnival of Education??? Drop on by and catch up on some of the best edu-blogging around...you're bound to find something of interest!
Spring Break, Southern Style
Spring Break in the South is like nothing on earth.
Mr. Bluebird needed to do some photography for a lecture he does on the Tullahoma Campaign during the Civil War so we decided to do a roadtrip to southern Middle Tennessee. This would give us a chance to spend some time together, get some work done for him, and have a fun day.
Awesome.
First off, the weather was fantastic. Stunning blue skies, big fluffy white clouds, and temperatures in the 80's with no humidity. We couldn't have asked for better. (And since a cold front is due to come through with forecast temps in the 40's and 50's for later this week, I'm glad we went.)
Once we got past Nashville, we got off the interstate and hit the country roads all through the area. Driving on the backroads of Tennessee is truly the way to see it. We saw a variety of farms with lovely green fields, horses, cattle, and alpacas enjoying the day. We stopped at little country chapels and looked at the cemeteries with tombstones dating back to 1790. We marveled at the way the creek bottoms down in this part of the country are solid limestone. We enjoyed the way people had their yards blooming with azaleas, tulips, daffodils and the first irises I've seen this season. We snooped through antique shops. It was such a lovely day, with such lovely sites to see, that my knitting never came out.
It was perfection.
And once again we looked at each other and mentioned how darn glad we are that we've moved here.
Mr. Bluebird needed to do some photography for a lecture he does on the Tullahoma Campaign during the Civil War so we decided to do a roadtrip to southern Middle Tennessee. This would give us a chance to spend some time together, get some work done for him, and have a fun day.
Awesome.
First off, the weather was fantastic. Stunning blue skies, big fluffy white clouds, and temperatures in the 80's with no humidity. We couldn't have asked for better. (And since a cold front is due to come through with forecast temps in the 40's and 50's for later this week, I'm glad we went.)
Once we got past Nashville, we got off the interstate and hit the country roads all through the area. Driving on the backroads of Tennessee is truly the way to see it. We saw a variety of farms with lovely green fields, horses, cattle, and alpacas enjoying the day. We stopped at little country chapels and looked at the cemeteries with tombstones dating back to 1790. We marveled at the way the creek bottoms down in this part of the country are solid limestone. We enjoyed the way people had their yards blooming with azaleas, tulips, daffodils and the first irises I've seen this season. We snooped through antique shops. It was such a lovely day, with such lovely sites to see, that my knitting never came out.
It was perfection.
And once again we looked at each other and mentioned how darn glad we are that we've moved here.
Friday, March 30, 2007
What happens with the "Loser Kids" are gone...
My Third Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself has a special set of rules, different from all my other classes. They have these rules, as they will tell you, because "we can't behave and act like normal 7th graders." Given the opportunity, this group would chase each other, hit and slap each other, mess with each other's binders and books, call each other names, and generally act like elementary kids on a playground. I've never had a group that acted so immature. The constant hitting, slapping, and chasing just drove me over the edge. It also drove the normal kids that were stuck in with this crowd bonkers as well.
The crazy thing is there's a lot of kids in this class that I really like and I tend to feel sorry for them. They're in a class where I have to be particularly strict since this group can't handle the least little bit of freedom. So, taking a page from Mr. Social Studies' rulebook, I implemented 3rd Period Rules and they're posted by the door, and we go over them nearly every day. They're pretty simple: Once a kid enters the room they sit in their seat and stay there, absolutely no touching of anyone or anyone's belongings, no horseplay, and they are to fill out their agendas and wait for further instructions.
This rule thing has worked in a rather interesting way. The kids that follow the rules are starting to get very upset with the kids who aren't. They're constantly telling their tablemates who aren't behaving to settle down and get quiet and things were starting to fall into place...just a bit. And today it really broke open.
I'm in the hallway between classes watching the drinking fountain area (a favorite trouble spot) when three of my students come get me and complain "there's kids in our room doing horseplay and they know they aren't supposed to." Mr. Social Studies steps out of his room, spies them goofing off, and by the time I get there, it's bedlam. Sullen Boy, who never speaks or does anything, is nearly chattering he's so upset. It appears he had $70 in class (what the heck he was doing with this much money, where he got it, and why he had it out is beyond me) and Cast Boy (who is always, for some reason, in the middle of everything and anything) grabbed it from him and started tossing it to two other boys in glass, Gullible Boy and Wide-Eyed Boy. So they're tossing it back and forth, Sullen Boy is ready to have a meltdown and the other kids are telling them to stop, sit down, and give the money back.
I bark at them, get them all in the hallway and Mr. Social Studies and I try to get to the bottom of it...none of it was making any sense so I told him to watch my class and I hauled them up to guidance, sat them down, told the Guidance Goddess to give them statement forms, and get them writing on their statements while she contacted our SRO.
I get back to my room and my class was still in a bit of an uproar discussing what just happened.
"Okay," I yell over the noise, "If you saw what happened, you need to write out a witness statement and sign it and turn it in to me."
The place goes silent as they race to open their binders, get out paper and begin writing. I've never seen them tackle a writing assignment with such enthusiasm. They couldn't wait to
tell what they saw. Heads down, pencils moving, it was amazing how dedicated they were to this assignment. The writing flowed.
I promptly wrote out, in the middle of working the kids through a review foldable on plant and animal cell organelles, four referrals, included a copy of the class rules with each one, and had those and all the witness statements (which were remarkably consistent) delivered to Mr. Enforcer and Deputy Smooth who took care of my four miscreants.
And we continued class which went fantastic...they participated, they raised their hands, they listened, and they were just delightful.
"You guys are a lot of fun today," I told them, "even though the day got off to a rough start."
"That's because all the loser kids are gone," one of them said and they all agreed. And then I looked at my absence list and realized they were right...two were already in ISS, we just sent 4 more up to ISS, two were suspended (one for a fight and another for telling Mrs. Language to "eff you", among other things), and one was out because he broke his finger in gym that morning.
"It's more fun when they're not here," a few others commented. "They ruin everything for everybody."
What followed was a discussion on peer influence, and how they could influence the "loser kids" for the better. It was refreshing to hear their comments and realize that they just might be getting it.
And now, at last, spring break!
The crazy thing is there's a lot of kids in this class that I really like and I tend to feel sorry for them. They're in a class where I have to be particularly strict since this group can't handle the least little bit of freedom. So, taking a page from Mr. Social Studies' rulebook, I implemented 3rd Period Rules and they're posted by the door, and we go over them nearly every day. They're pretty simple: Once a kid enters the room they sit in their seat and stay there, absolutely no touching of anyone or anyone's belongings, no horseplay, and they are to fill out their agendas and wait for further instructions.
This rule thing has worked in a rather interesting way. The kids that follow the rules are starting to get very upset with the kids who aren't. They're constantly telling their tablemates who aren't behaving to settle down and get quiet and things were starting to fall into place...just a bit. And today it really broke open.
I'm in the hallway between classes watching the drinking fountain area (a favorite trouble spot) when three of my students come get me and complain "there's kids in our room doing horseplay and they know they aren't supposed to." Mr. Social Studies steps out of his room, spies them goofing off, and by the time I get there, it's bedlam. Sullen Boy, who never speaks or does anything, is nearly chattering he's so upset. It appears he had $70 in class (what the heck he was doing with this much money, where he got it, and why he had it out is beyond me) and Cast Boy (who is always, for some reason, in the middle of everything and anything) grabbed it from him and started tossing it to two other boys in glass, Gullible Boy and Wide-Eyed Boy. So they're tossing it back and forth, Sullen Boy is ready to have a meltdown and the other kids are telling them to stop, sit down, and give the money back.
I bark at them, get them all in the hallway and Mr. Social Studies and I try to get to the bottom of it...none of it was making any sense so I told him to watch my class and I hauled them up to guidance, sat them down, told the Guidance Goddess to give them statement forms, and get them writing on their statements while she contacted our SRO.
I get back to my room and my class was still in a bit of an uproar discussing what just happened.
"Okay," I yell over the noise, "If you saw what happened, you need to write out a witness statement and sign it and turn it in to me."
The place goes silent as they race to open their binders, get out paper and begin writing. I've never seen them tackle a writing assignment with such enthusiasm. They couldn't wait to
tell what they saw. Heads down, pencils moving, it was amazing how dedicated they were to this assignment. The writing flowed.
I promptly wrote out, in the middle of working the kids through a review foldable on plant and animal cell organelles, four referrals, included a copy of the class rules with each one, and had those and all the witness statements (which were remarkably consistent) delivered to Mr. Enforcer and Deputy Smooth who took care of my four miscreants.
And we continued class which went fantastic...they participated, they raised their hands, they listened, and they were just delightful.
"You guys are a lot of fun today," I told them, "even though the day got off to a rough start."
"That's because all the loser kids are gone," one of them said and they all agreed. And then I looked at my absence list and realized they were right...two were already in ISS, we just sent 4 more up to ISS, two were suspended (one for a fight and another for telling Mrs. Language to "eff you", among other things), and one was out because he broke his finger in gym that morning.
"It's more fun when they're not here," a few others commented. "They ruin everything for everybody."
What followed was a discussion on peer influence, and how they could influence the "loser kids" for the better. It was refreshing to hear their comments and realize that they just might be getting it.
And now, at last, spring break!
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Get a cup of coffee and read awhile...
It's that time again - time for edubloggers the world over to visit this week's Carnival of Education, hosted by the Education Wonks. Be sure to stop by and read some excellent posts, as usual, this week.
Some of my favorites include the Teacher With a Bad Attitude's look at homework, an incredible post on plagiarism from an American teacher in Turkey, an inspirational post on courage from Missprofe, and my favorite, and all out rant from Mamacita, with the stellar title of Parents Who Want Their Daughters to be Whores and How to Spot Them at the Mall.
Go! Read! Enjoy!
Some of my favorites include the Teacher With a Bad Attitude's look at homework, an incredible post on plagiarism from an American teacher in Turkey, an inspirational post on courage from Missprofe, and my favorite, and all out rant from Mamacita, with the stellar title of Parents Who Want Their Daughters to be Whores and How to Spot Them at the Mall.
Go! Read! Enjoy!
Monday, March 26, 2007
An Award Just for Breathing!
I received an interesting piece of mail in my box on Friday. It was from our Title I Aides (a new program at our school). They have apparently been asked to put together a list of awards to hand out to the kids who have been identified as Title I students and have been receiving services throughout the year. We were supposed to rate them according to "improved academic achievement" or "improved attitude towards academics". I heard through the grapevine that someone "in charge of the program" from district office stated that "Everyone will get an award."
I have a serious problem with this.
Lately I've been seeing articles on the net and in the news about how this generation of kids are more narcissistic and self-centered than any before. Some people are linking this to the constant push to let children believe that they are "special", and that everyone gets a trophy for participating. In other words, you show up and you are rewarded. And then I look out at my classroom, at kids who've been socially promoted year after year, at kids who could care less about education, kids who make no effort to do anything and who have learned helplessness down to an art, and I wonder if we didn't create these lazy toads by constantly giving them things they haven't earned.
And coming from a corporate background, where you get promotions and pay raises depending on what you actually produce, and what you can accomplish, I'm convinced they're in for a rude awakening unless they plan on camping out on mamma's sofa for the rest of their lives.
My parents would have kicked my ass if I'd acted like that. But then come to think of it, they never convinced me that I was any more special than anyone else and that I'd have to work to get anywhere in life. It wasn't going to be handed to me.
So, I'm looking at this list and I see kids like Rude Boy who've done NOTHING all year except throw his homework and in-class work away in the trash rather than turning it in, who've lied to me and his parents all year, who've been nothing but behavior problems. I look at the three kids tossed out of the after school tutoring program for horrible behavior, and for refusing to even open a book, lift a pencil or punch in a problem into a calculator. I've see kids who have simply sat in my classroom and sucked in air all year.
And we're going to give them an award?
There's a kid on the list who enrolled in school a week ago from out of state. We're giving him an award? For what? Moving to our area?
Granted there are some kids on there who really, honestly, have earned and deserved awards and I feel they should be celebrated like no body's business. Some of them, including Hockey Boy and Nascar Boy, have made incredible strides - from F's to C's. They've busted their butts, worked hard, and they deserve a big deal. But if the kids sitting next to them, who've done nothing, get an award, won't that make their award a lot less meaningful?
So...the kids that deserved it got a nod from me. The other ones I left blank. I'll let someone else come up with an award for them. Maybe they'll hand them out for breathing regularly.
And Nascar Boy and Hockey Boy and all the others in my classes who've made great strides? I'm going to come up with something special to reward them...I haven't figured out what yet, but I want them to know that what they've done is fantastic and, better yet, it's something they earned.
I have a serious problem with this.
Lately I've been seeing articles on the net and in the news about how this generation of kids are more narcissistic and self-centered than any before. Some people are linking this to the constant push to let children believe that they are "special", and that everyone gets a trophy for participating. In other words, you show up and you are rewarded. And then I look out at my classroom, at kids who've been socially promoted year after year, at kids who could care less about education, kids who make no effort to do anything and who have learned helplessness down to an art, and I wonder if we didn't create these lazy toads by constantly giving them things they haven't earned.
And coming from a corporate background, where you get promotions and pay raises depending on what you actually produce, and what you can accomplish, I'm convinced they're in for a rude awakening unless they plan on camping out on mamma's sofa for the rest of their lives.
My parents would have kicked my ass if I'd acted like that. But then come to think of it, they never convinced me that I was any more special than anyone else and that I'd have to work to get anywhere in life. It wasn't going to be handed to me.
So, I'm looking at this list and I see kids like Rude Boy who've done NOTHING all year except throw his homework and in-class work away in the trash rather than turning it in, who've lied to me and his parents all year, who've been nothing but behavior problems. I look at the three kids tossed out of the after school tutoring program for horrible behavior, and for refusing to even open a book, lift a pencil or punch in a problem into a calculator. I've see kids who have simply sat in my classroom and sucked in air all year.
And we're going to give them an award?
There's a kid on the list who enrolled in school a week ago from out of state. We're giving him an award? For what? Moving to our area?
Granted there are some kids on there who really, honestly, have earned and deserved awards and I feel they should be celebrated like no body's business. Some of them, including Hockey Boy and Nascar Boy, have made incredible strides - from F's to C's. They've busted their butts, worked hard, and they deserve a big deal. But if the kids sitting next to them, who've done nothing, get an award, won't that make their award a lot less meaningful?
So...the kids that deserved it got a nod from me. The other ones I left blank. I'll let someone else come up with an award for them. Maybe they'll hand them out for breathing regularly.
And Nascar Boy and Hockey Boy and all the others in my classes who've made great strides? I'm going to come up with something special to reward them...I haven't figured out what yet, but I want them to know that what they've done is fantastic and, better yet, it's something they earned.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Hey Dude, Where's My History?
I may be a science teacher, but another passion of mine is history, so this post by Ms. Cornelius at A Shrewdness of Apes, caught my eye.
With more and more emphasis on high stakes testing, history and social studies are getting swept aside. This really worries me. Our democracy was founded with the premise that citizens will participate. However, knowledge and understanding of history (and geography and civics, etc.) is needed so that people not only understand what's going on, but participate in an intelligent manner. Our kids aren't being taught enough history, especially in elementary school, because it's not a focus of testing.
When it comes to the elementary schools science and social studies face a similar problem - with the focus on reading and math, both subjects tend to get ignored. Couple that with elementary teachers who don't feel comfortable teaching these subjects, and you get kids who hit middle school with little to no prior knowledge of the subject. Pretty hard to build on prior knowledge when there isn't any.
I wish that more elementary teachers would use books on science and social studies (lots of great historical fiction out there) to work with kids on reading. It certainly would go a long way in filling in this critical gap.
Rant over for now...
With more and more emphasis on high stakes testing, history and social studies are getting swept aside. This really worries me. Our democracy was founded with the premise that citizens will participate. However, knowledge and understanding of history (and geography and civics, etc.) is needed so that people not only understand what's going on, but participate in an intelligent manner. Our kids aren't being taught enough history, especially in elementary school, because it's not a focus of testing.
When it comes to the elementary schools science and social studies face a similar problem - with the focus on reading and math, both subjects tend to get ignored. Couple that with elementary teachers who don't feel comfortable teaching these subjects, and you get kids who hit middle school with little to no prior knowledge of the subject. Pretty hard to build on prior knowledge when there isn't any.
I wish that more elementary teachers would use books on science and social studies (lots of great historical fiction out there) to work with kids on reading. It certainly would go a long way in filling in this critical gap.
Rant over for now...
The Sting
I'll admit, I'm a bit prejudiced in favor of people who come into teaching as a second career (I'm one, after all), and part of the reason is some of the skills they bring to the game. Take Mr. Social Studies, for example. His background is in military law enforcement. His take on things, such as parent meetings, has become quite valuable. It's sort of that second sense he has when someone is lying to him or hiding something. It's amazing how many times we'll walk out of a parent meeting and he'll comment that "I can tell something is not right there," and he'll eventually be proven correct.
He's also really good at catching kids cheating on tests and quizzes.
He had a suspicion that three of our darlings, Spoiled Princess Girl, Brat Boy and Snarly Boy might be involved, along with a few others that sort of hang on the fringes of their clique. Mr. Social Studies thought that Smart Goofy Girl might be the one feeding them the answers because she has his class first period, is friends (most of the time) with Spoiled Princess Girl, and because she's, well, smart. And goofy enough to do something so stupid. Or perhaps, bullied into it by Spoiled Princess Girl. Anyhow, the kid scuttlebutt had it that there was some cheating going on and Spoiled Princess Girl was one of the cheaters.
On an aside, isn't it amazing what kids will talk about in the room with a teacher right there? I find out the most interesting things during my homeroom, in the hallways, and before the bell rings.
Mr. Social Studies, patient man that he is, laid a trap and waited. He suspected that Spoiled Brat Girl was writing the test answers on her leg (you have got to love capri pants) and was doing a lot of adjusting and scratching on her calves during tests. However, there being no honor among thieves and seventh graders, he didn't even have to wait to have his theory verified - two of Spoiled Brat Girl's so-called friends, Wide Eyed Girl and Smart Goofy Girl (amazing!) ratted her out. All he had to do was sit and wait for her to reach down, ease that pant leg up, and catch her at it.
Which he did.
This happened fourth period. I have Spoiled Brat Girl and Brat Boy in fifth and they didn't show up for class that day. I asked the class if they knew where they were and they couldn't wait to tell me about how they were in guidance because they'd been caught cheating. For kids who consider themselves to be quite the elite and very popular, they certainly aren't well liked.
In any case, Spoiled Brat Girl sang like a canary and told everyone that Snarly Boy was getting the answers early in the day and was giving them to her and Brat Boy at lunch. Considering that these three always eat lunch in the large group instruction room with their overinvolved PTO mothers, it's no wonder they got away with it. What we all found interesting is that the parents most likely knew this was going on. The way they hover over these three, it would be hard to get away with anything without their tacit approval. (We have since heard from another PTO mother - who is not part of their clique - that it's not uncommon for them to sit in there and do their children's homework while the kids goof off and eat lunch.)
I have to question the wisdom of Spoiled Brat Girl relying on answers from Snarly Boy. She is extremely smart, usually an A student. Snarly Boy barely gets D's and C's.
I'm not sure how this will all play out. I do know they all got talked to by an administrator, and earned zeros on their test (which at 100 points, is a big chunk of points). I'm sure the mothers are all madder than heck at all of us for "picking on" their kids. They'll probably make it up to their darlings by pulling them out of school for a mini-vacation, which is exactly what Brat Boy's mother did a few weeks ago when he was suspended. (And amazing, it wasn't one of us who wrote him up, but a teacher from another team who had a student who was hit by Brat Boy on the way back from lunch as they walked by the Large Group Instruction room - ten witnesses are a lot to fight against, and he got suspended...and a vacation.)
We keep thinking...just a few more weeks with these three. Just a few more weeks.
He's also really good at catching kids cheating on tests and quizzes.
He had a suspicion that three of our darlings, Spoiled Princess Girl, Brat Boy and Snarly Boy might be involved, along with a few others that sort of hang on the fringes of their clique. Mr. Social Studies thought that Smart Goofy Girl might be the one feeding them the answers because she has his class first period, is friends (most of the time) with Spoiled Princess Girl, and because she's, well, smart. And goofy enough to do something so stupid. Or perhaps, bullied into it by Spoiled Princess Girl. Anyhow, the kid scuttlebutt had it that there was some cheating going on and Spoiled Princess Girl was one of the cheaters.
On an aside, isn't it amazing what kids will talk about in the room with a teacher right there? I find out the most interesting things during my homeroom, in the hallways, and before the bell rings.
Mr. Social Studies, patient man that he is, laid a trap and waited. He suspected that Spoiled Brat Girl was writing the test answers on her leg (you have got to love capri pants) and was doing a lot of adjusting and scratching on her calves during tests. However, there being no honor among thieves and seventh graders, he didn't even have to wait to have his theory verified - two of Spoiled Brat Girl's so-called friends, Wide Eyed Girl and Smart Goofy Girl (amazing!) ratted her out. All he had to do was sit and wait for her to reach down, ease that pant leg up, and catch her at it.
Which he did.
This happened fourth period. I have Spoiled Brat Girl and Brat Boy in fifth and they didn't show up for class that day. I asked the class if they knew where they were and they couldn't wait to tell me about how they were in guidance because they'd been caught cheating. For kids who consider themselves to be quite the elite and very popular, they certainly aren't well liked.
In any case, Spoiled Brat Girl sang like a canary and told everyone that Snarly Boy was getting the answers early in the day and was giving them to her and Brat Boy at lunch. Considering that these three always eat lunch in the large group instruction room with their overinvolved PTO mothers, it's no wonder they got away with it. What we all found interesting is that the parents most likely knew this was going on. The way they hover over these three, it would be hard to get away with anything without their tacit approval. (We have since heard from another PTO mother - who is not part of their clique - that it's not uncommon for them to sit in there and do their children's homework while the kids goof off and eat lunch.)
I have to question the wisdom of Spoiled Brat Girl relying on answers from Snarly Boy. She is extremely smart, usually an A student. Snarly Boy barely gets D's and C's.
I'm not sure how this will all play out. I do know they all got talked to by an administrator, and earned zeros on their test (which at 100 points, is a big chunk of points). I'm sure the mothers are all madder than heck at all of us for "picking on" their kids. They'll probably make it up to their darlings by pulling them out of school for a mini-vacation, which is exactly what Brat Boy's mother did a few weeks ago when he was suspended. (And amazing, it wasn't one of us who wrote him up, but a teacher from another team who had a student who was hit by Brat Boy on the way back from lunch as they walked by the Large Group Instruction room - ten witnesses are a lot to fight against, and he got suspended...and a vacation.)
We keep thinking...just a few more weeks with these three. Just a few more weeks.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Finding time to sleep...
Last weekend our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Buckeye, came down from Ohio to visit, go to a civil war conference, and attend a hockey game. It was wonderful seeing them, catching up on stuff, and generally enjoying ourselves. Mrs. Buckeye and I were out shopping for a bit and got to talking about things and she mentioned an on-line "spat" she had with someone on one of her listserves who kept bagging on teachers because "they leave every day at 2:30 and don't really work." Bless her heart, she stood up for us.
But it got me to thinking.
Which can be a very dangerous thing.
And I started to wonder just how much time I really do spend as a teacher. So I decided to spend a few days keeping a tally, because I don't recall the last time I left at 2:30.
Friday:
Arrive at school at 6:15 - put together daily PowerPoint Agenda, make sure all supplies are set out and ready, check mail box, go through mail from the day before (just how many forms do we need to send out every week?) and get Mrs. Language caught up on the day before as she was out sick (and brought me a steak biscuit from Hardee's to thank me for doing her lessons, bless her heart).
7:05 - 7:30 - Homeroom. It's Green Day at school, which means candy grams and all sorts of silly stuff. Kids are wild. Take attendance, check agendas, fix a locker, get make-up work for kids who've been absent.
7:30 - 8:25 - First Period. Have kids turn in homework, science dictionaries, and finish element projects. Help kids with computer issues, glue stick issues, scissor issues, and boyfriend/girlfriend issues.
8:25-8:30 - Run to the bathroom
8:30 - 9:25 - Second Period. See First Period Above
9:25-9:30 - Watch hallways for potential problems. More and more kids with green hair due to PTO fundraiser where kids can pay to have their hair sprayed green or gelled.
9:30 - 10:25 - Third Period. My Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself. Two kids turn in behavior notes for horseplay. See First Period above.
10:25 - 10:30 - Watch hall again. More kids with green hair and now, green tattoos on faces.
10:30 - 11:05 - Fourth Period. See First Period Above.
11:05 - 11:40 - Line kids up for lunch, walk them down once they get settled, eat my lunch, check mailbox, go to bathroom, pick up kids, walk back to class.
11:40 - 12:05 - Finish Fourth Period.
12:10 - 1:05 - Fifth Period - See First Period Above. Hand out a behavior note to a kid who is flicking other kids' ears and who can't, for the life of him, keep his hands to himself. "I don't know," is his answer to everything. Show Flicker his file with previous behavior notes and emails to mom in it. Inform Flicker that next incident will most likely be a referral.
1:05 - 1:50 - 6th period planning!!! And for once, no parent meeting!!! Run to bathroom. Get mail. Meet with Mrs. Eagle and do our plans for next week. Realize that we forgot to type up a vocabulary test which I will do over the weekend. Electronically drop the plans to Mr. Enforcer, and make copies for our binders. Make copies of unit test, both regular and modified. Send email to Mrs. Sweet, letting her know we have a test scheduled for Wed and it would be great if she was available to read to our special ed kids. Return mobile computer labs to lab room.
1:50 -2:05 Kids are sent back to homerooms to get their report cards stapled into their agendas. Much wailing and worrying about what the results will be when the report cards arrive home. Some are happy, others are not so thrilled.
2:05 -4:50- Kids are dismissed! Grade workbooks from kids who've been absent. Grade homework. Put grades in computer. Export grades to website where parents can see what their darlings are doing (or not doing). Write and send my weekly parent email. Update my website and add my homework and messages to grades website. Clean whiteboards, and one of the tables which has had interesting graffiti on it lately. Comet and bleach works pretty well, but I'm going to try to catch the offender...I have my suspicions. Water plants. Look at clock and realize I need to get home.
Saturday - 1:15 - 3:00 - Grade element projects
5:15 - 8:00 - Grade the remaining element projects. Goal was to have all projects graded before hockey game, but alas, that did not happen. Put together picture cards of lab equipment and measurement tools to use in a review game.
Sunday - 12:15 - 2:15 Mrs. Eagle arrives. We put together a purchase requisition for supplies needed in order to do our review for Our Very Big Government Mandated Tests. Go over the cards I made the night before to make sure they're what we're looking for. Work on fine-tuning our lessons for the next few weeks. Discuss the fact that we can't believe we're down to the last nine weeks of the year. Go over some of my NSTA magazines with some ideas on weather projects we may try if we can get money to pay for supplies
Hum...that's it. I suppose it's a good thing that I don't have any kids of my own to worry about and that Mr. Bluebird works most weekends out of town. I couldn't imagine how I'd get it all done with people underfoot.
Now I know there are teachers that leave the second the bell rings - I work with some of them. If I did that I wouldn't feel like I'm doing the best job I can for my kids. My kids need me to be prepared, they need me to be organized, and they need me to give them prompt feedback on their assignments (I rarely take more than a day to get something graded).
I just wish some people would respect that.
But it got me to thinking.
Which can be a very dangerous thing.
And I started to wonder just how much time I really do spend as a teacher. So I decided to spend a few days keeping a tally, because I don't recall the last time I left at 2:30.
Friday:
Arrive at school at 6:15 - put together daily PowerPoint Agenda, make sure all supplies are set out and ready, check mail box, go through mail from the day before (just how many forms do we need to send out every week?) and get Mrs. Language caught up on the day before as she was out sick (and brought me a steak biscuit from Hardee's to thank me for doing her lessons, bless her heart).
7:05 - 7:30 - Homeroom. It's Green Day at school, which means candy grams and all sorts of silly stuff. Kids are wild. Take attendance, check agendas, fix a locker, get make-up work for kids who've been absent.
7:30 - 8:25 - First Period. Have kids turn in homework, science dictionaries, and finish element projects. Help kids with computer issues, glue stick issues, scissor issues, and boyfriend/girlfriend issues.
8:25-8:30 - Run to the bathroom
8:30 - 9:25 - Second Period. See First Period Above
9:25-9:30 - Watch hallways for potential problems. More and more kids with green hair due to PTO fundraiser where kids can pay to have their hair sprayed green or gelled.
9:30 - 10:25 - Third Period. My Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself. Two kids turn in behavior notes for horseplay. See First Period above.
10:25 - 10:30 - Watch hall again. More kids with green hair and now, green tattoos on faces.
10:30 - 11:05 - Fourth Period. See First Period Above.
11:05 - 11:40 - Line kids up for lunch, walk them down once they get settled, eat my lunch, check mailbox, go to bathroom, pick up kids, walk back to class.
11:40 - 12:05 - Finish Fourth Period.
12:10 - 1:05 - Fifth Period - See First Period Above. Hand out a behavior note to a kid who is flicking other kids' ears and who can't, for the life of him, keep his hands to himself. "I don't know," is his answer to everything. Show Flicker his file with previous behavior notes and emails to mom in it. Inform Flicker that next incident will most likely be a referral.
1:05 - 1:50 - 6th period planning!!! And for once, no parent meeting!!! Run to bathroom. Get mail. Meet with Mrs. Eagle and do our plans for next week. Realize that we forgot to type up a vocabulary test which I will do over the weekend. Electronically drop the plans to Mr. Enforcer, and make copies for our binders. Make copies of unit test, both regular and modified. Send email to Mrs. Sweet, letting her know we have a test scheduled for Wed and it would be great if she was available to read to our special ed kids. Return mobile computer labs to lab room.
1:50 -2:05 Kids are sent back to homerooms to get their report cards stapled into their agendas. Much wailing and worrying about what the results will be when the report cards arrive home. Some are happy, others are not so thrilled.
2:05 -4:50- Kids are dismissed! Grade workbooks from kids who've been absent. Grade homework. Put grades in computer. Export grades to website where parents can see what their darlings are doing (or not doing). Write and send my weekly parent email. Update my website and add my homework and messages to grades website. Clean whiteboards, and one of the tables which has had interesting graffiti on it lately. Comet and bleach works pretty well, but I'm going to try to catch the offender...I have my suspicions. Water plants. Look at clock and realize I need to get home.
Saturday - 1:15 - 3:00 - Grade element projects
5:15 - 8:00 - Grade the remaining element projects. Goal was to have all projects graded before hockey game, but alas, that did not happen. Put together picture cards of lab equipment and measurement tools to use in a review game.
Sunday - 12:15 - 2:15 Mrs. Eagle arrives. We put together a purchase requisition for supplies needed in order to do our review for Our Very Big Government Mandated Tests. Go over the cards I made the night before to make sure they're what we're looking for. Work on fine-tuning our lessons for the next few weeks. Discuss the fact that we can't believe we're down to the last nine weeks of the year. Go over some of my NSTA magazines with some ideas on weather projects we may try if we can get money to pay for supplies
Hum...that's it. I suppose it's a good thing that I don't have any kids of my own to worry about and that Mr. Bluebird works most weekends out of town. I couldn't imagine how I'd get it all done with people underfoot.
Now I know there are teachers that leave the second the bell rings - I work with some of them. If I did that I wouldn't feel like I'm doing the best job I can for my kids. My kids need me to be prepared, they need me to be organized, and they need me to give them prompt feedback on their assignments (I rarely take more than a day to get something graded).
I just wish some people would respect that.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Carnival Time!
Man, there is nothing better than sitting down with a great cup of coffee (or a glass of wine seeing as it's March and the kiddos are stepping on my last nerve) and mining all the great stuff that appears weekly on the Carnival of Education. So take the time, check it out, and thanks, as always to The Wonks for doing such a great job!
I'm in the dark here...
The building I teach in celebrated its 41st year this past year. It's undergone a lot of changes during that time, including new wings being added on to accommodate student growth. In fact, we just opened up a new wing a little over a year ago (including our science lab), and another wing was opened just a few years before that.
I teach in the old part of the building, and I actually prefer that. Sure, the room is oddly shaped because the building was originally built to look something like a wheel with the main office as the hub and classroom areas radiating off as spokes. And true, there's absolutely no storage, no counters, etc., outside of what I've managed to scrounge over the past few years. But it's close to everything. It's close to guidance, it's close to Mr. Enforcer and Mrs. Squirrel, and it's pretty much the center of it all. It's convenient.
However, this mixture of old and new means is that the building has a whole bunch of different operating systems running the whole thing.
Which can cause problems when it comes to thinks like, say, lights.
Last week, around Tuesday, or maybe it was Wednesday (who can keep track?), Mr. Social Studies and a few others of us noticed that some of our light banks were blinking a bit. It was real subtle, almost to the point where you would wonder if it was just a figment of your imagination. Then it got worse. The blinking became a lot more pronounced. A bank of lights would go off, the emergency lights would go on, and then the emergency lights would go off and the regular lights would go on.
Over and over. Until finally, they....just...went....out.
By Friday afternoon, the front bank of lights in my room was out, and so were the emergency lights. The only working lights in my room were towards the back. Fortunately my LCD projector, document reader, computer, and all that were obviously on another circuit because they all worked. Mr. Social Studies wasn't so lucky. He had more lights (only one panel went out), but his LCD projector went out as well. So, being the resourceful guy he is, he brought in an extension cord and draped it across his ceiling towards a plug that had power. Other teachers here in the older part of the building had similar experiences.
So, we notified the Secretary who tried to notify The Only Guy in The District Who Fixes This Stuff (keep in mind we something like 25 buildings), who wasn't being really good about answering his phone.
People came out and gazed at light fixtures.
A couple of ladders appeared, panels were moved, ladders disappeared.
Occasionally we'd see someone with big tool bags walking around looking into corners and staring at the ceiling.
Mr. Social Studies reported overhearing a conversation between Two Guys With Toolbelts who said something along the lines of "I remember doing some wiring with some fuse box out here a number of years ago with Elmer. Can't for the life of me remember where that fuse box was and Elmer, he's passed on a few years ago so I can't ask him."
In the meantime, it's gloomy and dark in my room. I've always been a person who really liked a lot of light, and now, after spending about a week in the dark in my classroom, I can tell that I need a lot more light than I've been getting. I'm cranky, the kids are cranky, and my plants are drooping. We couldn't take much more of this.
Mr. Social Studies reports another conversation between the Two Guys With Toolbelts who mention remembering where the mysterious fuse box was and "dang, that sucker was glowing red hot when we found it!"
Oh good. I'm glad they found the silly thing before we ended up with a real fire and not just a drill.
And now, at last, I have light.
And tomorrow is Friday.
I teach in the old part of the building, and I actually prefer that. Sure, the room is oddly shaped because the building was originally built to look something like a wheel with the main office as the hub and classroom areas radiating off as spokes. And true, there's absolutely no storage, no counters, etc., outside of what I've managed to scrounge over the past few years. But it's close to everything. It's close to guidance, it's close to Mr. Enforcer and Mrs. Squirrel, and it's pretty much the center of it all. It's convenient.
However, this mixture of old and new means is that the building has a whole bunch of different operating systems running the whole thing.
Which can cause problems when it comes to thinks like, say, lights.
Last week, around Tuesday, or maybe it was Wednesday (who can keep track?), Mr. Social Studies and a few others of us noticed that some of our light banks were blinking a bit. It was real subtle, almost to the point where you would wonder if it was just a figment of your imagination. Then it got worse. The blinking became a lot more pronounced. A bank of lights would go off, the emergency lights would go on, and then the emergency lights would go off and the regular lights would go on.
Over and over. Until finally, they....just...went....out.
By Friday afternoon, the front bank of lights in my room was out, and so were the emergency lights. The only working lights in my room were towards the back. Fortunately my LCD projector, document reader, computer, and all that were obviously on another circuit because they all worked. Mr. Social Studies wasn't so lucky. He had more lights (only one panel went out), but his LCD projector went out as well. So, being the resourceful guy he is, he brought in an extension cord and draped it across his ceiling towards a plug that had power. Other teachers here in the older part of the building had similar experiences.
So, we notified the Secretary who tried to notify The Only Guy in The District Who Fixes This Stuff (keep in mind we something like 25 buildings), who wasn't being really good about answering his phone.
People came out and gazed at light fixtures.
A couple of ladders appeared, panels were moved, ladders disappeared.
Occasionally we'd see someone with big tool bags walking around looking into corners and staring at the ceiling.
Mr. Social Studies reported overhearing a conversation between Two Guys With Toolbelts who said something along the lines of "I remember doing some wiring with some fuse box out here a number of years ago with Elmer. Can't for the life of me remember where that fuse box was and Elmer, he's passed on a few years ago so I can't ask him."
In the meantime, it's gloomy and dark in my room. I've always been a person who really liked a lot of light, and now, after spending about a week in the dark in my classroom, I can tell that I need a lot more light than I've been getting. I'm cranky, the kids are cranky, and my plants are drooping. We couldn't take much more of this.
Mr. Social Studies reports another conversation between the Two Guys With Toolbelts who mention remembering where the mysterious fuse box was and "dang, that sucker was glowing red hot when we found it!"
Oh good. I'm glad they found the silly thing before we ended up with a real fire and not just a drill.
And now, at last, I have light.
And tomorrow is Friday.
Monday, March 12, 2007
They just don't care...
I had a bit of a hissy fit this past week while sitting in a data chat with Mrs. Eagle, Mrs. Robin, Mrs. Standard (our district science consulting teacher), and Mrs. Hummingbird, going over the scores from our last benchmark. Fortunately, Mrs. Eagle and Mrs. Robin decided to "go hissy" with me.
Mrs. Standard, who has never taught middle school but who spent most of her career in high school, informed us that she analyzed all the various grade level scores district-wide and the problem seems to be in one area - seventh grade.
Well duh.
Anyone who has taught this age could tell you that they pretty much flat-line mentally for the seventh grade year. In fact, if you look at some of the latest research on brain development, it also indicates that there's a period of time in a child's life where their brain actually loses memory capacity. Interestingly enough, it coincides with the onset of puberty (those awful hormones) where the body is dealing with growth and change in such a heavy-handed way that the brain is almost to the point of being overwhelmed so it shuts down somewhat. In other words, seventh grade.
Mrs. Hummingbird, who talks faster than an auctioneer, and Mrs. Standard could not understand why our students did not do as well as expected on the latest benchmark. They analyzed the questions the kids missed and were amazed at the answers they chose most often. They knew we were covering the material, they'd been in our rooms and witnessed the kids respond and act like they knew the material, so it just didn't make sense that they did so badly. What on earth was the problem?
Simply put, they just don't care.
They don't care enough to read the questions on the test (as evidenced by the fact that many finished a 40 question test, with pictures and graphs galore, in ten minutes - faster than I could even read the silly thing). They don't care enough to mark up their test with highlighters and pencils in good test-taking style. Heck, they don't even care enough to put their name on the test.
Or, as one student said, "Is this test worth anything? Because if it's not, I'm really not going to bother to try."
The sad thing is, we can't grade them on these benchmarks - the best we can do is give them extra credit (big deal), and the kids know this. So, in their eyes, why bother? And especially, why bother for the third time this year?
Mrs. Standard put forth the idea that we should stop using scantron tests and have the students write on their tests and we can grade them manually. This way they'll get used to underlining key points and highlighting information and can narrow their options down and do better. Basically, Mrs. Robin, Mrs. Eagle and I would love to do this but the fact of the matter is 3,000 copies permitted per month (and double sided counts as two) means that all our copying would essentially end up being nothing but tests...At 3,000, I can only make 20 copies of things per month per kid...a test with all the graphics ends up being about 6 copies per kid, about every 2-3 weeks. Oh, and don't forget all the copies I have to make for my special ed kids and 504 kids who can't copy off the board, and who need to have things in front of them. It just isn't feasible to do that. (I also find it interesting that we go to all these in-services about ways to increase learning with all these special forms and graphic organizers...all of which need to be copied.)
"Well how about giving them sheets of plastic that they can put over the class set, and have them highlight and mark up, then clean them off?" was an idea that Mrs. Standard proposed.
I actually do this with my vocabulary tests as they are one pagers and can go into a sheet protector. Maybe 1/4 of the class might chose to mark up the test with the waterproof markers (which I provide), the rest really don't care. Those that do mark up the test also tend to get ink all over their hands, clothes, table, etc., and then have to spend time cleaning themselves and everything else up (with cleaning supplies provided by me, of course). I can only imagine what this would entail with every child doing it on a 6-8 page test. They'd have to stop and clean up in between each page.
"Well," Mrs. Standard finally asks, "why don't they care?"
"Why should they? They know they'll get promoted to 8th grade regardless, they know the test means nothing, they have no stake in it," I say.
"And their parents don't care enough to return phone calls, or come in, and don't appear to be the least bit upset about failing grades," said Mrs. Eagle.
"There's no consequence for failure," says Mrs. Robin. "So what if you fail? Nothing's going to happen. We go on and on about how they'll have to earn their way to the next grade in high school, but they don't care about that even. It's just foreign to them."
Quite honestly...until there are consequences for failure, most of these kids won't put forth an effort. And in the meantime, we're just raising our blood pressure.
Mrs. Standard, who has never taught middle school but who spent most of her career in high school, informed us that she analyzed all the various grade level scores district-wide and the problem seems to be in one area - seventh grade.
Well duh.
Anyone who has taught this age could tell you that they pretty much flat-line mentally for the seventh grade year. In fact, if you look at some of the latest research on brain development, it also indicates that there's a period of time in a child's life where their brain actually loses memory capacity. Interestingly enough, it coincides with the onset of puberty (those awful hormones) where the body is dealing with growth and change in such a heavy-handed way that the brain is almost to the point of being overwhelmed so it shuts down somewhat. In other words, seventh grade.
Mrs. Hummingbird, who talks faster than an auctioneer, and Mrs. Standard could not understand why our students did not do as well as expected on the latest benchmark. They analyzed the questions the kids missed and were amazed at the answers they chose most often. They knew we were covering the material, they'd been in our rooms and witnessed the kids respond and act like they knew the material, so it just didn't make sense that they did so badly. What on earth was the problem?
Simply put, they just don't care.
They don't care enough to read the questions on the test (as evidenced by the fact that many finished a 40 question test, with pictures and graphs galore, in ten minutes - faster than I could even read the silly thing). They don't care enough to mark up their test with highlighters and pencils in good test-taking style. Heck, they don't even care enough to put their name on the test.
Or, as one student said, "Is this test worth anything? Because if it's not, I'm really not going to bother to try."
The sad thing is, we can't grade them on these benchmarks - the best we can do is give them extra credit (big deal), and the kids know this. So, in their eyes, why bother? And especially, why bother for the third time this year?
Mrs. Standard put forth the idea that we should stop using scantron tests and have the students write on their tests and we can grade them manually. This way they'll get used to underlining key points and highlighting information and can narrow their options down and do better. Basically, Mrs. Robin, Mrs. Eagle and I would love to do this but the fact of the matter is 3,000 copies permitted per month (and double sided counts as two) means that all our copying would essentially end up being nothing but tests...At 3,000, I can only make 20 copies of things per month per kid...a test with all the graphics ends up being about 6 copies per kid, about every 2-3 weeks. Oh, and don't forget all the copies I have to make for my special ed kids and 504 kids who can't copy off the board, and who need to have things in front of them. It just isn't feasible to do that. (I also find it interesting that we go to all these in-services about ways to increase learning with all these special forms and graphic organizers...all of which need to be copied.)
"Well how about giving them sheets of plastic that they can put over the class set, and have them highlight and mark up, then clean them off?" was an idea that Mrs. Standard proposed.
I actually do this with my vocabulary tests as they are one pagers and can go into a sheet protector. Maybe 1/4 of the class might chose to mark up the test with the waterproof markers (which I provide), the rest really don't care. Those that do mark up the test also tend to get ink all over their hands, clothes, table, etc., and then have to spend time cleaning themselves and everything else up (with cleaning supplies provided by me, of course). I can only imagine what this would entail with every child doing it on a 6-8 page test. They'd have to stop and clean up in between each page.
"Well," Mrs. Standard finally asks, "why don't they care?"
"Why should they? They know they'll get promoted to 8th grade regardless, they know the test means nothing, they have no stake in it," I say.
"And their parents don't care enough to return phone calls, or come in, and don't appear to be the least bit upset about failing grades," said Mrs. Eagle.
"There's no consequence for failure," says Mrs. Robin. "So what if you fail? Nothing's going to happen. We go on and on about how they'll have to earn their way to the next grade in high school, but they don't care about that even. It's just foreign to them."
Quite honestly...until there are consequences for failure, most of these kids won't put forth an effort. And in the meantime, we're just raising our blood pressure.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
The Education Carnival - Staff Development Style
The Science Goddess over at What It's Like on the Inside has done a fantastic job on this week's Education Carnival. Grab some coffee and step on over to her version of staff development!
Monday, March 05, 2007
Teaching Strategies: Scourge or Savior for Education
History Is Elementary: Teaching Strategies: Scourge or Savior for Education
This is one of those posts that hit you between the eyes and you go, "Yeah, what she said!".
Read it!
This is one of those posts that hit you between the eyes and you go, "Yeah, what she said!".
Read it!
Friday, March 02, 2007
A Bad Kid Magnet?
One of my absolute favorite kids, a girl I had last year, was expelled for the remainder of the year this week.
This just breaks my heart.
I love Goth Girl, although, to be honest, it certainly wasn't love at first meeting. She's got my first discipline referral last year for writing graffiti on a seat in the theater. However, if you took the time to know her (which many people don't because she can be pretty off-putting) she's a good kid, although incredibly screwed up, most of which is the direct result of her mother who's pretty screwed up herself. I tried and tried and tried to get mom to show up at school for a meeting (made appointments, never showed) and to send in a current doctor's diagnosis for ADHD (which Goth Girl could be a poster child for) so I could at least get her on a 504 plan. No luck. Mom talked a good talk but was too busy fooling around on her husband to spend any time on her kids. Goth Girl, like her mother, is all about drama and she generates drama and uproar wherever she goes. She also has absolutely no impulse control and a complete inability to think about consequences before she does something. However, although I'm definitely not a fan of medicating kids, when she was on her medication for the ADHD (which wasn't often) she was a perfect, model child and a lot of her behavior issues disappeared; she would actually stop and think before she did something.
That being said, she absolutely craved attention and if you gave it to her, you won her as a fan for life. Something as simple as a pat on the back and a "good job", could earn you a smile that would light up the room. I was hoping that 8th grade would be an improvement for her, and it started off pretty well. Not as many stints in ISS, not as many suspensions, and it was looking good. However, the little stuff started to add up and pretty soon she had enough discipline points and landed in alternative school for a while. She came back, had some conflicts with some other girls (like I said, it's all about the drama), and ended up in trouble again. I'm not exactly sure what the final straw was, but when I walked through guidance earlier this week and saw her there, I knew it wasn't good. She came over, gave me a big hug and said she was being expelled. She wasn't happy about it, and goodness knows I wasn't either.
The next day, three more of my kids from last year came by during homeroom to let me know the news, in case I didn't already know. All three of these kids, including Stoner Boy and the ever-popular Stoopid Boy, are the sort of kids that usually cause teachers to consider early retirement. They were, however, the kids I really did well with and the kids I really enjoyed. They were good, usually, for me, and if they got out of hand it didn't take much for me to get them back in line. They'd then go into other classrooms and act like holy terrors.
My homeroom kids watched these three with interest. Most of them know them, if not personally, then by reputation. After they left, one of my girls, Amazon Girl made an interesting comment. "Mrs. Bluebird, you're like a bad kid magnet."
"A what?"
"A bad kid magnet. All the bad kids love you."
I guess we have to be good at something in this world.
This just breaks my heart.
I love Goth Girl, although, to be honest, it certainly wasn't love at first meeting. She's got my first discipline referral last year for writing graffiti on a seat in the theater. However, if you took the time to know her (which many people don't because she can be pretty off-putting) she's a good kid, although incredibly screwed up, most of which is the direct result of her mother who's pretty screwed up herself. I tried and tried and tried to get mom to show up at school for a meeting (made appointments, never showed) and to send in a current doctor's diagnosis for ADHD (which Goth Girl could be a poster child for) so I could at least get her on a 504 plan. No luck. Mom talked a good talk but was too busy fooling around on her husband to spend any time on her kids. Goth Girl, like her mother, is all about drama and she generates drama and uproar wherever she goes. She also has absolutely no impulse control and a complete inability to think about consequences before she does something. However, although I'm definitely not a fan of medicating kids, when she was on her medication for the ADHD (which wasn't often) she was a perfect, model child and a lot of her behavior issues disappeared; she would actually stop and think before she did something.
That being said, she absolutely craved attention and if you gave it to her, you won her as a fan for life. Something as simple as a pat on the back and a "good job", could earn you a smile that would light up the room. I was hoping that 8th grade would be an improvement for her, and it started off pretty well. Not as many stints in ISS, not as many suspensions, and it was looking good. However, the little stuff started to add up and pretty soon she had enough discipline points and landed in alternative school for a while. She came back, had some conflicts with some other girls (like I said, it's all about the drama), and ended up in trouble again. I'm not exactly sure what the final straw was, but when I walked through guidance earlier this week and saw her there, I knew it wasn't good. She came over, gave me a big hug and said she was being expelled. She wasn't happy about it, and goodness knows I wasn't either.
The next day, three more of my kids from last year came by during homeroom to let me know the news, in case I didn't already know. All three of these kids, including Stoner Boy and the ever-popular Stoopid Boy, are the sort of kids that usually cause teachers to consider early retirement. They were, however, the kids I really did well with and the kids I really enjoyed. They were good, usually, for me, and if they got out of hand it didn't take much for me to get them back in line. They'd then go into other classrooms and act like holy terrors.
My homeroom kids watched these three with interest. Most of them know them, if not personally, then by reputation. After they left, one of my girls, Amazon Girl made an interesting comment. "Mrs. Bluebird, you're like a bad kid magnet."
"A what?"
"A bad kid magnet. All the bad kids love you."
I guess we have to be good at something in this world.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
The Fear and the Fury
We were supposed to have our Family Literacy Night tonight at school. However, Mother Nature being the cantankerous sort that she is, the district decided to cancel all after school-activities so we could get all the kids home before the severe weather hit us later this afternoon and evening. Interestingly enough, we were the only county in the area that didn't send our kids home early, but that could be because we send them home early as it is - our school day ends at 2:05.
Because it was kind of nice having a bit of time without a parent meeting, a staff meeting, or a tutoring class, I volunteered to be part of the skeleton staff that stuck around just in case one of the buses had to turn back due to weather. I'm a junkie about weather anyway (Dad worked meteorology for the airlines when I was little) and it's my favorite unit to teach. So, I worked on lessons for next week, watched The Weather Channel, and scooted out at 3:15. The storms seemed to have sidestepped us for the most part, leaving the really bad stuff for areas further south.
I'll be honest and say that I teared up when I heard the news about the High School in Enterprise, Alabama getting hit by a tornado. Although we train for it, practice our drills and emergency procedures, and read through our handbook, the reality is none of us ever really wants to be at school when something like a tornado hits. The idea of a kid getting seriously hurt, or killed, on my watch just leaves me with an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. I feel responsible for these children, and even though I have no control over the weather, I still would feel somewhat responsible if something happened. We have had tornadoes here before, and we will again. It's just a matter of time.
My thoughts and prayers go out to the students, faculty, and staff of Enterprise High School. Hopefully this horrific event will bring out the best in people, and not the worst.
Because it was kind of nice having a bit of time without a parent meeting, a staff meeting, or a tutoring class, I volunteered to be part of the skeleton staff that stuck around just in case one of the buses had to turn back due to weather. I'm a junkie about weather anyway (Dad worked meteorology for the airlines when I was little) and it's my favorite unit to teach. So, I worked on lessons for next week, watched The Weather Channel, and scooted out at 3:15. The storms seemed to have sidestepped us for the most part, leaving the really bad stuff for areas further south.
I'll be honest and say that I teared up when I heard the news about the High School in Enterprise, Alabama getting hit by a tornado. Although we train for it, practice our drills and emergency procedures, and read through our handbook, the reality is none of us ever really wants to be at school when something like a tornado hits. The idea of a kid getting seriously hurt, or killed, on my watch just leaves me with an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. I feel responsible for these children, and even though I have no control over the weather, I still would feel somewhat responsible if something happened. We have had tornadoes here before, and we will again. It's just a matter of time.
My thoughts and prayers go out to the students, faculty, and staff of Enterprise High School. Hopefully this horrific event will bring out the best in people, and not the worst.
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