Sunshine and mild temps.
700 hot dogs and buns.
36 pizzas (cut into smallish squares)
1600 sodas.
400 bottles of water.
Dozens and dozens dozens of bags of candy.
A popcorn machine.
A cotton candy machine.
Nail painting, hair spraying, and temporary tattooing.
A dance.
Three inflatables in the parking lot.
A movie in the theater.
Door prizes ranging from MP3 players, iTunes gift cards, bathroom passes (like gold for a middle schooler), homework passes, McDonald's gift cards and more.
1000 middle school students who were on time every day and didn't miss a single one of The Very Big Deal Government Mandated Tests, and who earned "bucks" for exhibiting good test taking skills and were given the chance to spend them.
Three hours of the most amazing party The School has even thrown.
It rocked.
The best comment of the day came from the Guidance Goddess and Guidance Diva who were, for probably the first time all year, alone in the glass fronted office without a single kid waiting in a chair to see someone. "We sort of feel like the shop keepers in a town where a riot is going on and we've shuttered the windows and are peeking out now and then to watch the riot go by."
That's exactly what it seemed like. Inside guidance, calm, quiet, and peaceful. (Rare indeed). Outside? Running, yelling, screaming kids.
We fed them junk food, let them yell, run, scream, and hyped them up on sugar.
And then put them on buses and sent them home.
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!
I'm having a beer and watching the Stanley Cup Playoffs.
Twenty two and a half days...
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Sometimes I Even Amaze Myself
Finally. Freaking. Done. With. Testing.
It has been a long, long, long week.
The kids did great during the actual testing part of the day, probably because they wanted to earn their pay, and because they knew I'd probably go psycho-postal if they so much as made a peep. I think the thought of me being psycho-postal is enough to scare even the most hardened seventh grader.
The challenge was keeping these turkeys quiet during the time between when all the testing material was collected and when I was allowed to dismiss them to their first period class. Not everyone was testing on the same schedule. Some grade levels were doing different subjects, with different times, and then there was special ed extended time, read aloud, and later in the day, the make-up testing. And then there's always the rooms around us who may have started a few minutes after us, or before us, so perhaps weren't done. After being so wonderfully quiet for the test, they wanted to really let off some steam when they were done. On Wednesday they got really loud and I was about ready to hit the psycho postal stage, and the look in my eye scared them and they quieted down. I knew, however, that it was only a momentary fear.
On Thursday I had, amazingly, a stroke of genius. I have no idea where it came from but it came, thank goodness.
I grabbed my packet of white paper for the printer. "Okay, everyone, here's the deal. I'm going to let you all talk all you want, but there's a catch. You have to write it down."
"You mean we can write notes?" one of the kids asked, incredulously.
"Exactly," I said as I put white paper out on each table. "You're going to write notes. You can write notes, play hangman, play tic tac toe, whatever, as long as you do not speak a word or make a sound."
A murmur went through the class. This is so cool! She's going to let us write notes!
On particularly paranoid hand went up. "Are you going to read them?"
"No, as you leave the room you're going to put them in the recycle bin," I answered. Frankly at this point, I didn't care what on earth they'd write as long as they'd be quiet.
"What if we want to write a note to a person at another table?" another asked.
"Then you raise the note in the air, and wait for me to come get it and I'll play mailman and deliver it." Why not? At this point I was simply waiting for the clock to tick away as well so I could go deliver my testing materials to the check in point.
They loved this idea. Heads went down, pencils scratched, notes went into the air, and I delivered mail all around the room. They played hangman, tic tac toe, and drew pictures of their favorite Japanese cartoon characters. The key thing is they were quiet.
Score one for me.
It has been a long, long, long week.
The kids did great during the actual testing part of the day, probably because they wanted to earn their pay, and because they knew I'd probably go psycho-postal if they so much as made a peep. I think the thought of me being psycho-postal is enough to scare even the most hardened seventh grader.
The challenge was keeping these turkeys quiet during the time between when all the testing material was collected and when I was allowed to dismiss them to their first period class. Not everyone was testing on the same schedule. Some grade levels were doing different subjects, with different times, and then there was special ed extended time, read aloud, and later in the day, the make-up testing. And then there's always the rooms around us who may have started a few minutes after us, or before us, so perhaps weren't done. After being so wonderfully quiet for the test, they wanted to really let off some steam when they were done. On Wednesday they got really loud and I was about ready to hit the psycho postal stage, and the look in my eye scared them and they quieted down. I knew, however, that it was only a momentary fear.
On Thursday I had, amazingly, a stroke of genius. I have no idea where it came from but it came, thank goodness.
I grabbed my packet of white paper for the printer. "Okay, everyone, here's the deal. I'm going to let you all talk all you want, but there's a catch. You have to write it down."
"You mean we can write notes?" one of the kids asked, incredulously.
"Exactly," I said as I put white paper out on each table. "You're going to write notes. You can write notes, play hangman, play tic tac toe, whatever, as long as you do not speak a word or make a sound."
A murmur went through the class. This is so cool! She's going to let us write notes!
On particularly paranoid hand went up. "Are you going to read them?"
"No, as you leave the room you're going to put them in the recycle bin," I answered. Frankly at this point, I didn't care what on earth they'd write as long as they'd be quiet.
"What if we want to write a note to a person at another table?" another asked.
"Then you raise the note in the air, and wait for me to come get it and I'll play mailman and deliver it." Why not? At this point I was simply waiting for the clock to tick away as well so I could go deliver my testing materials to the check in point.
They loved this idea. Heads went down, pencils scratched, notes went into the air, and I delivered mail all around the room. They played hangman, tic tac toe, and drew pictures of their favorite Japanese cartoon characters. The key thing is they were quiet.
Score one for me.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Gimme More (fake) Money!
The Principal, and the team leaders, came up with an idea to hopefully motivate our kids to try to do their on The Very Big Deal Government Mandated Tests. Sad to say, but most of our students could give a rip about grades, testing, their future, or anything remotely important, so we have to come up with ideas to motivate them because apparently hard work, doing well, and all that cool intrinsic stuff doesn't cut it with these knuckleheads.
We were moaning about it at a team leader meeting and I made the comment that these kids don't get the idea of getting paid to do a job. They're so used to the entitlements - the free and reduced lunch, the free school supplies, getting a jacket from the guidance closet if they don't have one, and so forth and so on that they don't get the idea of work. My corporate background reared its ugly head and I said that our team was thinking of actually paying kids for their work next year - we were sick and tired of getting after the kids who do nothing (which is a huge waste of energy as they don't care and it makes us cranky), and were more inclined to reward them with Bluebird Bucks or something equally stupid that could be redeemed for things like pencils, erasers, paper, and once a month, a bunch of goodies like pizza, hot dogs, cookies, and that silly trinket sort of stuff that these kids love.
And so we thought, hey, let's have them earn money for doing good test taking strategies and have an afternoon party where they could spend it and run off some steam.
The kids can earn up to four bucks each day of testing - for being on time, for being prepared, for using good testing skills (highlighting, underlining, crossing out bad answers, etc.) and for taking their time and rechecking their work. If they are at school all four days and take all four tests on time (no being tardy to school this week!), they get a bracelet that gets them into the party and they'll have $16 worth of bucks to spend. The party does have free things - a movie, a dance, and inflatables, plus they can spend the money on food, video games, and drop them in the box for drawings for things like gift cards and homework passes. Each day at the end of that day's test we hand out their bucks, they write their names on them, put them in their zip lock "party pack", and then we lock them up (they love watching you unlock and lock these as if they were real money.)
It has actually worked.
I have never, in six years of giving The Very Big Deal Government Mandated Tests, had kids take their time like this group is doing. And keep in mind, this is a group that during the year will blast through a 30 question test in ten minutes and then wonder why they failed. They are highlighting, they are crossing out things, and amazingly, they are checking their work. I've asked each day how many of them have found a mistake and at least half the class raises their hands. They couldn't wait to tell us about how they double checked everything and found - gasp! - mistakes. It's absolutely amazing to watch this.
Good gracious, we may be on to something.
We were moaning about it at a team leader meeting and I made the comment that these kids don't get the idea of getting paid to do a job. They're so used to the entitlements - the free and reduced lunch, the free school supplies, getting a jacket from the guidance closet if they don't have one, and so forth and so on that they don't get the idea of work. My corporate background reared its ugly head and I said that our team was thinking of actually paying kids for their work next year - we were sick and tired of getting after the kids who do nothing (which is a huge waste of energy as they don't care and it makes us cranky), and were more inclined to reward them with Bluebird Bucks or something equally stupid that could be redeemed for things like pencils, erasers, paper, and once a month, a bunch of goodies like pizza, hot dogs, cookies, and that silly trinket sort of stuff that these kids love.
And so we thought, hey, let's have them earn money for doing good test taking strategies and have an afternoon party where they could spend it and run off some steam.
The kids can earn up to four bucks each day of testing - for being on time, for being prepared, for using good testing skills (highlighting, underlining, crossing out bad answers, etc.) and for taking their time and rechecking their work. If they are at school all four days and take all four tests on time (no being tardy to school this week!), they get a bracelet that gets them into the party and they'll have $16 worth of bucks to spend. The party does have free things - a movie, a dance, and inflatables, plus they can spend the money on food, video games, and drop them in the box for drawings for things like gift cards and homework passes. Each day at the end of that day's test we hand out their bucks, they write their names on them, put them in their zip lock "party pack", and then we lock them up (they love watching you unlock and lock these as if they were real money.)
It has actually worked.
I have never, in six years of giving The Very Big Deal Government Mandated Tests, had kids take their time like this group is doing. And keep in mind, this is a group that during the year will blast through a 30 question test in ten minutes and then wonder why they failed. They are highlighting, they are crossing out things, and amazingly, they are checking their work. I've asked each day how many of them have found a mistake and at least half the class raises their hands. They couldn't wait to tell us about how they double checked everything and found - gasp! - mistakes. It's absolutely amazing to watch this.
Good gracious, we may be on to something.
Monday, April 13, 2009
The Very Big Deal Government Mandated Tests Are Here!
Tomorrow starts Testing Week...the week where we basically do nothing outside of administering The Very Big Deal Government Mandated Tests which are Really, Really Important. You know, the tests where the teachers are 100% accountable for how our students learn and the parents and the kids themselves are let off the hook for any accountability whatsoever.
If I sound bitter it's because I am. After spending a year with some of the kids I've had this year and their mostly absent parents (you know, the ones who refuse to pick up the phone, come to a meeting, or do anything remotely related to parenting), I'm really not wild about being The Only One Who is Held Accountable.
Which brings me to my three darlings in alternative school. Just as a reminder, that includes Pinball Boy (whom I adore although he can turn a class upside down), Spicoli Boy (who was, at one time in his school career, advanced and an A student but has since discovered illegal substances), and Duh Boy who really can be quite bright but appears to have also discovered illegal substances (hence the visit to alternative school) and who's parents rewarded him with a new dirt bike because, as his mother told me, "he's a good kid at heart and just made one bad decision."
I don't know about you, but if I'd done something as stupid as try to buy drugs from a kid at breakfast, in the school cafeteria (caught on lovely full color digital tape), and get myself sent to alternative school my parents wouldn't have bought me a dirt bike. In fact, I doubt they'd be buying me anything outside of paying for military boarding school or grounding me until I was 45.
Duh-Boy arrived back in school last Thursday, and this morning Pinball Boy and Spicoli Boy showed up. Spicoli Boy, I might add, has not changed one bit and has won the distinction of being the first kid I've had in alternative school in six years who didn't see a huge jump in grades. Usually they go there and you'll find a kid with a 50% grade jump to 90% or higher. Spicoli Boy beat the trend and earned a 61%. Pretty sad considering that 70% is required to pass.
Pinball Boy was, well, Pinball Boy. He was ecstatic to be back and honestly, it was nice seeing him again. However, yet again, he managed to turn the class into chaos because he is - surprise! - off his meds. Sigh. Screaming, laughing, running around the room, off his meds.
I had had a feeling that I'd see him before The Very Big Deal Government Mandated Tests so I'd touched base with Mr. Enforcer and expressed my concerns. Unmedicated, Pinball Boy won't do well on the test. Even worse, unmedicated, and in my room with 24 other kids, they won't either. He can be that out of control. Mr. Enforcer, who's dealt with this kid for two years, and nearly had mom on speed-dial, agreed. He came to my room during planning and said he'd called mom and she promised she was going to have him medicated by tomorrow, but considering the number of times I've heard that, and how often it hasn't happened, we needed a Plan B. So, we have one. We'll see how he is during homeroom, and if it's apparent that he's out of control, he's going to go cool his jets in guidance and make up the test in the afternoon during the make-up sessions (which may have a handful of kids and be in a small group setting).
Hopefully it won't come to that, but it's nice to know we have some options.
If I sound bitter it's because I am. After spending a year with some of the kids I've had this year and their mostly absent parents (you know, the ones who refuse to pick up the phone, come to a meeting, or do anything remotely related to parenting), I'm really not wild about being The Only One Who is Held Accountable.
Which brings me to my three darlings in alternative school. Just as a reminder, that includes Pinball Boy (whom I adore although he can turn a class upside down), Spicoli Boy (who was, at one time in his school career, advanced and an A student but has since discovered illegal substances), and Duh Boy who really can be quite bright but appears to have also discovered illegal substances (hence the visit to alternative school) and who's parents rewarded him with a new dirt bike because, as his mother told me, "he's a good kid at heart and just made one bad decision."
I don't know about you, but if I'd done something as stupid as try to buy drugs from a kid at breakfast, in the school cafeteria (caught on lovely full color digital tape), and get myself sent to alternative school my parents wouldn't have bought me a dirt bike. In fact, I doubt they'd be buying me anything outside of paying for military boarding school or grounding me until I was 45.
Duh-Boy arrived back in school last Thursday, and this morning Pinball Boy and Spicoli Boy showed up. Spicoli Boy, I might add, has not changed one bit and has won the distinction of being the first kid I've had in alternative school in six years who didn't see a huge jump in grades. Usually they go there and you'll find a kid with a 50% grade jump to 90% or higher. Spicoli Boy beat the trend and earned a 61%. Pretty sad considering that 70% is required to pass.
Pinball Boy was, well, Pinball Boy. He was ecstatic to be back and honestly, it was nice seeing him again. However, yet again, he managed to turn the class into chaos because he is - surprise! - off his meds. Sigh. Screaming, laughing, running around the room, off his meds.
I had had a feeling that I'd see him before The Very Big Deal Government Mandated Tests so I'd touched base with Mr. Enforcer and expressed my concerns. Unmedicated, Pinball Boy won't do well on the test. Even worse, unmedicated, and in my room with 24 other kids, they won't either. He can be that out of control. Mr. Enforcer, who's dealt with this kid for two years, and nearly had mom on speed-dial, agreed. He came to my room during planning and said he'd called mom and she promised she was going to have him medicated by tomorrow, but considering the number of times I've heard that, and how often it hasn't happened, we needed a Plan B. So, we have one. We'll see how he is during homeroom, and if it's apparent that he's out of control, he's going to go cool his jets in guidance and make up the test in the afternoon during the make-up sessions (which may have a handful of kids and be in a small group setting).
Hopefully it won't come to that, but it's nice to know we have some options.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Ever Have One of Those Weeks?
Coming back from Spring Break seemed tougher than usual this year.
Perhaps it's because we have The Class From Hell, and needed more than a week to recover from the exhaustion most of us have been wading through the past month. The fact that the weather has been hot, cold, hot, cold, and just can't make up its mind hasn't helped any. And knowing that the Very Big Deal Government Mandated Test is right around the corner hasn't helped either.
Monday morning it seemed like the whole team had something wrong. Mrs. Social Studies and I both had headaches and neither of us could get in the swing of things. Miss Reading was losing her voice, Mr. Math had no sleep due to a late flight and a 2 year old, and Ms. Language was turning green at various times. I don't think any of us really felt well until Thursday rolled around.
So of course this would be the week that I had something scheduled for nearly every single evening. Monday an event at the local University that hubby and I attended which was very nice and over in time to catch 24. Tuesday my college girlfriend came in from California (she's doing a road trip through the South in conjunction with a convention in Atlanta) so we did BBQ and gossiped way too late in the evening. Wednesday is Knit Night with my local knitting group. Thursday, hubby and I went and saw the documentary Brothers At War (highly recommend it). And today I'm off for Good Friday but I've spent most of the day in the basement as we're having severe weather with sirens going off and all sorts of goofy things.
So I may was well grade papers while the storms rage.
However, a few things to note.
Remember Bully Boy? The kid we suffered through for five months, then he moved, then he was back (and put on another team praise Mr. Enforcer)? Apparently his mother up and moved yet again during break and he is now supposedly somewhere in North Carolina. He's another one of those kids who never stays long enough anywhere to get any help whatsoever.
And then there's Drool Boy. Drool Boy was moved to our team because his mother thought it would be a good idea if he was on the same team our basketball coach taught on since Drool Boy wanted to play basketball. Problem is, Drool Boy may have, at best, a 50% average and isn't going anywhere near sports until he learns to wake up in class, do work, and actually care about something other than his gang-banging friends. Of course Mom is now unable to meet with us, answer the phone, or generally communicate with us about the fact that her offspring is running with a bad crowd and failing yet again. The kid is capable but, like Spicoli Boy and Stoner Boy, I suspect he's smoking something funny every morning. Hence the name Drool Boy which comes from Ms. Language who swears that he's going to drool on his desk one day since his mouth is dropping open so wide.
So the other day Drool Boy is in class and I'm reviewing elements, compounds and mixtures and I notice that Drool Boy is there with his hand in the air after I asked the class a question. A miracle! He's participating! I call on him and he blinks. Now this kid has some pretty slow reaction time, so after a minute I call on him again because his hand is still in the air. He blinks some more.
"Hum, Drool Boy, your hand is in the air," I say. "I'm guessing you want to answer the question."
Drool Boy blinks, slowly swivels his head to look up at his hand that's waving above his head, seems startled to see that, yes, that is his hand there, then slowly lowers it.
"I didn't know it was there," he mumbles.
Ah. Guess he didn't want to answer the question.
You can't make this stuff up. You honestly can't.
Perhaps it's because we have The Class From Hell, and needed more than a week to recover from the exhaustion most of us have been wading through the past month. The fact that the weather has been hot, cold, hot, cold, and just can't make up its mind hasn't helped any. And knowing that the Very Big Deal Government Mandated Test is right around the corner hasn't helped either.
Monday morning it seemed like the whole team had something wrong. Mrs. Social Studies and I both had headaches and neither of us could get in the swing of things. Miss Reading was losing her voice, Mr. Math had no sleep due to a late flight and a 2 year old, and Ms. Language was turning green at various times. I don't think any of us really felt well until Thursday rolled around.
So of course this would be the week that I had something scheduled for nearly every single evening. Monday an event at the local University that hubby and I attended which was very nice and over in time to catch 24. Tuesday my college girlfriend came in from California (she's doing a road trip through the South in conjunction with a convention in Atlanta) so we did BBQ and gossiped way too late in the evening. Wednesday is Knit Night with my local knitting group. Thursday, hubby and I went and saw the documentary Brothers At War (highly recommend it). And today I'm off for Good Friday but I've spent most of the day in the basement as we're having severe weather with sirens going off and all sorts of goofy things.
So I may was well grade papers while the storms rage.
However, a few things to note.
Remember Bully Boy? The kid we suffered through for five months, then he moved, then he was back (and put on another team praise Mr. Enforcer)? Apparently his mother up and moved yet again during break and he is now supposedly somewhere in North Carolina. He's another one of those kids who never stays long enough anywhere to get any help whatsoever.
And then there's Drool Boy. Drool Boy was moved to our team because his mother thought it would be a good idea if he was on the same team our basketball coach taught on since Drool Boy wanted to play basketball. Problem is, Drool Boy may have, at best, a 50% average and isn't going anywhere near sports until he learns to wake up in class, do work, and actually care about something other than his gang-banging friends. Of course Mom is now unable to meet with us, answer the phone, or generally communicate with us about the fact that her offspring is running with a bad crowd and failing yet again. The kid is capable but, like Spicoli Boy and Stoner Boy, I suspect he's smoking something funny every morning. Hence the name Drool Boy which comes from Ms. Language who swears that he's going to drool on his desk one day since his mouth is dropping open so wide.
So the other day Drool Boy is in class and I'm reviewing elements, compounds and mixtures and I notice that Drool Boy is there with his hand in the air after I asked the class a question. A miracle! He's participating! I call on him and he blinks. Now this kid has some pretty slow reaction time, so after a minute I call on him again because his hand is still in the air. He blinks some more.
"Hum, Drool Boy, your hand is in the air," I say. "I'm guessing you want to answer the question."
Drool Boy blinks, slowly swivels his head to look up at his hand that's waving above his head, seems startled to see that, yes, that is his hand there, then slowly lowers it.
"I didn't know it was there," he mumbles.
Ah. Guess he didn't want to answer the question.
You can't make this stuff up. You honestly can't.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Who's There???
This is just one of those things that I have to share...
My cousin lives in Colorado and has the incredible talent (which I do not have) of being a wonderful photographer. She never goes anywhere without her camera, and considering that she likes to get out and hike, and travel off the beaten path, she gets some fantastic pictures. I've told her again and again that she should make some of her pictures into notecards and calendars but she's much to modest.
Anyhow, she sent me the above picture today which she took out at the family farm. This is the same farm that I spent all my summers at and it holds a very fond place in my heart. Sadly, it will most likely be leaving the family soon (after nearly 60 years) because there's no one to take over the operation. Both of my cousins have careers in Denver, and farming isn't an occupation either of them aspired to. Goodness knows, Mr. Bluebird wouldn't know what to do if we ended up with the place. (I'd fulfill my fantasy of running an alpaca farm and knitting all day, but that's all it is, a fantasy).
So here's a picture of an owl out at the family place. I think it's awesome!
Thursday, April 02, 2009
April Fool's
For the two or three of you who checked here yesterday you may have noticed something a tad weird...instead of a post by me, you had a surprise guest poster, Mr. Teacher! My post for yesterday was actually found on Ms. Teacher's site.
The whole surprise was the brainchild of Mr. Teacher, so head on over to his site and see the list of participants. And while you're there, pick up a copy of his book - it's a riot!
The whole surprise was the brainchild of Mr. Teacher, so head on over to his site and see the list of participants. And while you're there, pick up a copy of his book - it's a riot!
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
It's All in the Decimals
We’ve been studying Measurement of all sorts for the past several weeks, and this week continues the trend. The week before Spring Break, we studied and practiced using a ruler to measure inches and centimeters. We also practiced estimation with other units like millimeters, kilometers, yards, and miles.
Sample question: Which is a better estimate for the width of a stamp? 1 inch, 1 foot, or 1 mile?
Apparently, we have some kids with pretty darn large mailboxes…
Estimating measurement can be a hard concept for these kids to grasp though, as was clearly evidenced in a memorable situation from my first year of teaching (chronicled in my ground breaking novel, of course! ;) ). A little girl asked me, “Mister Teacher, how long are you?”
Since the girl was ESL (English as a Second Language), I assumed that she had misspoken and was merely asking how tall I was. However, when I tried to correct her, she insisted, “No, how LONG are you? How BIG?”
Still giving her the benefit of the doubt, I started to answer, “Six foot four,” but she beat me to the punch with a guess. “Seven inches?” she ventured.
I may never know for sure, but I can only hope that her guess reflected her poor estimation skills of my height and not a more accurate estimate of some other measurement…
THIS week, we are moving on to a few other areas of measurement – capacity, weight, and temperature. Hopefully, the temperature won’t be too bad, because we’ve covered number lines, and a thermometer is really just a number line turned on its side. Guess and check is the mantra there. Sure, some kids only do the FIRST part of that, but we have to keep trying.
Capacity and weight are another matter. Most of these kids have never even heard the word “Pint” before (and thus pronounce it with a short i instead of its long i), and don’t know a Liter from a Meter.
This is not the first year that we have taught capacity in 3rd grade, but it IS the first year that it will be tested on the TAKS. A couple of years ago, I tried Star Wars references to help them remember things – “Use the quarts, Luke!” and “May the fourths be with you!” – but that was it.
Last year, I had the kids look for examples of containers and their capacities at home. A big bottle of Coke holds 3 Liters, a bottle of Hooters Hot Sauce holds 5 fluid ounces, and a thing of Maalox holds 355 mL. Then there were the examples of missing decimal points – 612 gallons of barbecue sauce, 277 gallons of mustard, 118 liters of Mr. Clean. Either they forgot the decimals, or someone owns stock in the wholesale club.
Later this week, we’ll be discussing weight and mass. I’ll be sure to write more about my experiences with tons of feathers and grams of elephants…
Sample question: Which is a better estimate for the width of a stamp? 1 inch, 1 foot, or 1 mile?
Apparently, we have some kids with pretty darn large mailboxes…
Estimating measurement can be a hard concept for these kids to grasp though, as was clearly evidenced in a memorable situation from my first year of teaching (chronicled in my ground breaking novel, of course! ;) ). A little girl asked me, “Mister Teacher, how long are you?”
Since the girl was ESL (English as a Second Language), I assumed that she had misspoken and was merely asking how tall I was. However, when I tried to correct her, she insisted, “No, how LONG are you? How BIG?”
Still giving her the benefit of the doubt, I started to answer, “Six foot four,” but she beat me to the punch with a guess. “Seven inches?” she ventured.
I may never know for sure, but I can only hope that her guess reflected her poor estimation skills of my height and not a more accurate estimate of some other measurement…
THIS week, we are moving on to a few other areas of measurement – capacity, weight, and temperature. Hopefully, the temperature won’t be too bad, because we’ve covered number lines, and a thermometer is really just a number line turned on its side. Guess and check is the mantra there. Sure, some kids only do the FIRST part of that, but we have to keep trying.
Capacity and weight are another matter. Most of these kids have never even heard the word “Pint” before (and thus pronounce it with a short i instead of its long i), and don’t know a Liter from a Meter.
This is not the first year that we have taught capacity in 3rd grade, but it IS the first year that it will be tested on the TAKS. A couple of years ago, I tried Star Wars references to help them remember things – “Use the quarts, Luke!” and “May the fourths be with you!” – but that was it.
Last year, I had the kids look for examples of containers and their capacities at home. A big bottle of Coke holds 3 Liters, a bottle of Hooters Hot Sauce holds 5 fluid ounces, and a thing of Maalox holds 355 mL. Then there were the examples of missing decimal points – 612 gallons of barbecue sauce, 277 gallons of mustard, 118 liters of Mr. Clean. Either they forgot the decimals, or someone owns stock in the wholesale club.
Later this week, we’ll be discussing weight and mass. I’ll be sure to write more about my experiences with tons of feathers and grams of elephants…
Monday, March 30, 2009
Spring Break
I don't know when I've looked forward to spring break with such anticipation.
I'm not doing anything exciting, really. Hubby and I went to a conference in Nashville on Saturday, then went to Louisville on Sunday and pretty much the rest of the week I'll be home doing yard work, knitting, reading, cleaning house, maybe some painting, and possibly cleaning out the garage (that depends on the weather). We may catch a movie or two, or just sit and get caught up on the DVD's. I'm also grading homework packets, but that's just what teachers do, I suppose.
But I'm so glad it's here.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the kids, who, as you well know, haven't been the best crop of seventh graders to come down the line are insane.
Maybe it has to do with the fact that the kids all lost their minds - even the normally good classes were horrid - after lunch on Friday. Since we eat lunch relatively early, it made for a rough day. A really rough day. Even Coach Math was at his wit's end.
Maybe it had to do with the fact that we had a fight in the hall fifteen minutes before the end of the day when kids were moving to their afternoon homerooms, and it involved a split lip, blood, and two morons who quite honestly need to learn to shut the hell up and stop calling people names, especially each other.
Maybe we all just need a break from each other.
I'm not doing anything exciting, really. Hubby and I went to a conference in Nashville on Saturday, then went to Louisville on Sunday and pretty much the rest of the week I'll be home doing yard work, knitting, reading, cleaning house, maybe some painting, and possibly cleaning out the garage (that depends on the weather). We may catch a movie or two, or just sit and get caught up on the DVD's. I'm also grading homework packets, but that's just what teachers do, I suppose.
But I'm so glad it's here.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the kids, who, as you well know, haven't been the best crop of seventh graders to come down the line are insane.
Maybe it has to do with the fact that the kids all lost their minds - even the normally good classes were horrid - after lunch on Friday. Since we eat lunch relatively early, it made for a rough day. A really rough day. Even Coach Math was at his wit's end.
Maybe it had to do with the fact that we had a fight in the hall fifteen minutes before the end of the day when kids were moving to their afternoon homerooms, and it involved a split lip, blood, and two morons who quite honestly need to learn to shut the hell up and stop calling people names, especially each other.
Maybe we all just need a break from each other.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Old Habits are Hard to Break
Yesterday I took a quick glance at my email and saw one from the Guidance Goddess with the subject line of "Bully Boy".
Uh-oh.
I opened it up. All it said was "He's back!"
Oh crap.
I quickly forwarded it to The Team and they pretty much had the same response. Bully Boy was, to be honest, responsible for about 25% of the discipline referrals on our team, and with him gone, things were a lot calmer. Amazing how one kid can really stir the pot.
But he was back. And usually when a kid returns, he's put back on the same team with the same schedule. Figures. Just when my Fifth Period was actually getting somewhat sane and they were able to sit through an entire class period without a ruckus.
So, during lunch, Mrs. Social Studies, Ms. Language and I went to find out what was going on and to beg, if need be, that he be put on another team. He was back, with mom, and they were both living with grandma. Apparently they had been tossed out of their apartment in the nearby city (I'm not sure where the information came from but the words "meth use" or "meth manufacture" were mentioned and neither would surprise me considering his parents' history). And, surprisingly, Mr. Enforcer actually did put him on another team. His idea was that Bully Boy had pretty much tormented every kid in our area of the school and putting him on a team that was in a more enclosed area, like Mr. Social Studies and Mrs. Bunny's team, would be ideal. It could be watched more closely.
We groveled at Mr. Enforcer's feet and praised him to the heavens for this wise act.
We then informed his new team not to worry, it would only be a matter of time before he'd be in ISS or suspended. We did warn them to keep their eyes on him at all times (remember, he's a thrower) and to make sure he is nowhere near smaller kids or sped kids. We also warned them that lunch could be an issue as he likes to mess with kids then, as well, especially with slaps to the back of the head. Obviously, this team was less than thrilled. However, considering that our team is leading the entire school with discipline referrals and seats in alternative school, it's time to spread the wealth around.
So today, twenty-four hours later, we are walking our kids back from lunch and as we go by Mr. Enforcer's office (which is right smack in the middle of our team area), we see, of all people, Bully Boy sitting in his office.
Amazing! It only took a day and a half before he'd landed in trouble.
He apparently decided to pick on one of their smaller, and I mean small kids, a little thing who may weigh sixty pounds if he's lucky. It happened at lunch and the end result is he got mad at the Little Tyke, and smashed his hand on the table. Mr. Duck and I saw the videotape (amazing how Bully Boy always gets into trouble right in front of a camera) and it's the same mean kid I knew from before. He even has the same mannerisms of looking all around him for an authority figure to make sure they aren't watching before he launches his attacks. Apparently he keeps forgetting about the cameras that keep filming his misdeeds.
Of course Mr. Enforcer couldn't get a hold of a parent or adult at any of the phone numbers listed on the emergency card to inform them that he'd be in ISS for five days.
Some things never change.
Uh-oh.
I opened it up. All it said was "He's back!"
Oh crap.
I quickly forwarded it to The Team and they pretty much had the same response. Bully Boy was, to be honest, responsible for about 25% of the discipline referrals on our team, and with him gone, things were a lot calmer. Amazing how one kid can really stir the pot.
But he was back. And usually when a kid returns, he's put back on the same team with the same schedule. Figures. Just when my Fifth Period was actually getting somewhat sane and they were able to sit through an entire class period without a ruckus.
So, during lunch, Mrs. Social Studies, Ms. Language and I went to find out what was going on and to beg, if need be, that he be put on another team. He was back, with mom, and they were both living with grandma. Apparently they had been tossed out of their apartment in the nearby city (I'm not sure where the information came from but the words "meth use" or "meth manufacture" were mentioned and neither would surprise me considering his parents' history). And, surprisingly, Mr. Enforcer actually did put him on another team. His idea was that Bully Boy had pretty much tormented every kid in our area of the school and putting him on a team that was in a more enclosed area, like Mr. Social Studies and Mrs. Bunny's team, would be ideal. It could be watched more closely.
We groveled at Mr. Enforcer's feet and praised him to the heavens for this wise act.
We then informed his new team not to worry, it would only be a matter of time before he'd be in ISS or suspended. We did warn them to keep their eyes on him at all times (remember, he's a thrower) and to make sure he is nowhere near smaller kids or sped kids. We also warned them that lunch could be an issue as he likes to mess with kids then, as well, especially with slaps to the back of the head. Obviously, this team was less than thrilled. However, considering that our team is leading the entire school with discipline referrals and seats in alternative school, it's time to spread the wealth around.
So today, twenty-four hours later, we are walking our kids back from lunch and as we go by Mr. Enforcer's office (which is right smack in the middle of our team area), we see, of all people, Bully Boy sitting in his office.
Amazing! It only took a day and a half before he'd landed in trouble.
He apparently decided to pick on one of their smaller, and I mean small kids, a little thing who may weigh sixty pounds if he's lucky. It happened at lunch and the end result is he got mad at the Little Tyke, and smashed his hand on the table. Mr. Duck and I saw the videotape (amazing how Bully Boy always gets into trouble right in front of a camera) and it's the same mean kid I knew from before. He even has the same mannerisms of looking all around him for an authority figure to make sure they aren't watching before he launches his attacks. Apparently he keeps forgetting about the cameras that keep filming his misdeeds.
Of course Mr. Enforcer couldn't get a hold of a parent or adult at any of the phone numbers listed on the emergency card to inform them that he'd be in ISS for five days.
Some things never change.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Target Acquisition Problem
Yet another one for the file entitled "You Can't Make This Stuff Up."
So this afternoon I'm down at the local elementary with Mrs. Duck, Mrs. Eagle, and Mrs. Angora (who actually raises angora goats) among a few others as we've been asked to help judge the elementary science fair. That in itself was quite fun. We didn't see a lot of silly projects along the lines of "how many marbles will each brand of paper towel hold?", but instead saw some really creative projects with good science behind them. It's obvious that the elementary teachers were setting the bar a bit higher and that was good to see. We judged the fourth grade kids and our winner did a project on decomposition (no, not bodies, although I see a future at the UT Knoxville Body Farm for this kid), plus another great one on what type of clothing motorcycle riders should wear (he used fabric, chicken legs, and parents driving a truck to help test - very clever).
In any case, we're chatting a bit afterward and Mrs. Angora starts telling us a story about giving the social studies benchmark to her homeroom kids yesterday. Apparently she has a Stoner Kid in her class (it seems like we all do this year) who's a sweet kid, but, well, stoned nearly all the time. In any case, as she walked through the room, all the kids had their heads down and were working, including Stoner Kid who was busy bubbling in his sheet and working diligently on his test. Warm fuzzies all around.
After the test, she's going through the answer sheets and notices that, weirdly, there are no bubbles bubbled in on Stoner Kid's answer sheet. What the hell?? She saw him working. She knew he was bubbling in bubbles on something. How come his sheet is blank?
So she starts to investigate and walks over to Stoner Kid's desk.
And there on that desk are 30 little circles all bubbled in as nice as could be!
Stoner Kid apparently had a bit of trouble figuring out where, exactly the answer sheet ended and his desk began.
Wanna guess who had to take the test again today???
And you know We Aren't Leaving This Child Behind, even though he's hitting the weed every morning before he stumbles through our door.
So this afternoon I'm down at the local elementary with Mrs. Duck, Mrs. Eagle, and Mrs. Angora (who actually raises angora goats) among a few others as we've been asked to help judge the elementary science fair. That in itself was quite fun. We didn't see a lot of silly projects along the lines of "how many marbles will each brand of paper towel hold?", but instead saw some really creative projects with good science behind them. It's obvious that the elementary teachers were setting the bar a bit higher and that was good to see. We judged the fourth grade kids and our winner did a project on decomposition (no, not bodies, although I see a future at the UT Knoxville Body Farm for this kid), plus another great one on what type of clothing motorcycle riders should wear (he used fabric, chicken legs, and parents driving a truck to help test - very clever).
In any case, we're chatting a bit afterward and Mrs. Angora starts telling us a story about giving the social studies benchmark to her homeroom kids yesterday. Apparently she has a Stoner Kid in her class (it seems like we all do this year) who's a sweet kid, but, well, stoned nearly all the time. In any case, as she walked through the room, all the kids had their heads down and were working, including Stoner Kid who was busy bubbling in his sheet and working diligently on his test. Warm fuzzies all around.
After the test, she's going through the answer sheets and notices that, weirdly, there are no bubbles bubbled in on Stoner Kid's answer sheet. What the hell?? She saw him working. She knew he was bubbling in bubbles on something. How come his sheet is blank?
So she starts to investigate and walks over to Stoner Kid's desk.
And there on that desk are 30 little circles all bubbled in as nice as could be!
Stoner Kid apparently had a bit of trouble figuring out where, exactly the answer sheet ended and his desk began.
Wanna guess who had to take the test again today???
And you know We Aren't Leaving This Child Behind, even though he's hitting the weed every morning before he stumbles through our door.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Carnival Time!
It's the spring break edition hosted by An Aspiring Educator! Hurry over and check it out.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Southern Spring
This past Friday we had a snow day due to the two inches of white stuff that fell the night before.
Today it's 78 and gorgeous.
Trees are budding out, the forsythia are doing their thing and it's spring here in the South.
However, I'm not naive. Mother Nature isn't finished with winter yet. I still remember the spring break a few years ago when it went from 85 to 18 in one day.
I won't believe it's truly spring until about, oh, the 20th of April.
But I'm going to enjoy the day or two we get here and there.
Today it's 78 and gorgeous.
Trees are budding out, the forsythia are doing their thing and it's spring here in the South.
However, I'm not naive. Mother Nature isn't finished with winter yet. I still remember the spring break a few years ago when it went from 85 to 18 in one day.
I won't believe it's truly spring until about, oh, the 20th of April.
But I'm going to enjoy the day or two we get here and there.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
A Rant - Casting Off Accessories, Teacher Accountability and the Reality of Our World
A few years ago, I did a post on how I think most parents consider their children to be accessories. Unfortunately, I still think that way. However, now these parents are apparently casting off their accessories because they're too much work.
Case in point. I had a student last year who had a lot of severe mental problems, bi-polar being the least of them. Biological dad was in jail somewhere in another state, he lived with mom and sister. He spent time during his sixth grade year in a mental institution, and did a return visit during the year I had him. He was spending most of his eighth grade year in our Behavior Adjustment unit but I noticed recently that I hadn't seen him around which was unusual. I mentioned this to the BA teacher the other day and she informed me that his mother had washed her hands of him and turned him over to the state and he was now in foster care and attending another school. The BA teacher was in court (called as a witness) when this happened and basically said that his mother told the court that she didn't want anything to do with him any more. I'm sure hearing that must have made this kid's day.
Another teacher, Mrs. Strawberry, was summoned to court last week to appear as a witness in a custody case involving a student. She mentioned that while she sat in the court waiting for her case to come up not one, not two, but three parents were there turning their kids over to the state! And that's just one day in one court in one city.
And of course last week we had the President trot out his first education policy speech laced with buzzwords like accountability. Of course, he means, like every other politician out there, teacher accountability.
What I want to know is when in the bloody hell are parents going to start to be held accountable?
I get a number of education-related email newsletters every day and one this week had an interesting blurb about a study done by Henry C. Berliner and published jointly by the Education and Public Interest Center at the University of Colorado at Boulder and Arizona State University's Education Policy Research Unit that described seven out-of-school factors that play a role in a child's educational success. (For those of us in the classroom this is a big "duh" moment as we already know this - apparently most policy makers either don't or they don't care.) The factors include prenatal care, health care, food insecurity, environmental pollutants, family stress, neighborhood characteristics and extended learning systems.
I firmly believe that before any legislator, and that includes the President, makes any sort of law or policy in education, they need to walk in our shoes. This does not mean going to a high achieving elementary school with freshly scrubbed, well dressed, well fed cherubs who sit at your feet while you read a picture book to them and you get your photo op for the networks. How about working as a substitute teacher for a few weeks? Spend some time in the behavior adjustment unit with the kids with mental issues. How about some time working as the in school suspension teacher? Try to set up a parent meeting with a parent that not only didn't provide us with a working phone number, but all the other emergency contact numbers are bad as well. And then when you get that meeting set up (should that miracle occur) how about standing in the office for fifteen minutes waiting for the parent to not show up? How about enjoying that parent phone call where they tell you that "what happens in school is not my problem, you deal with it!". Sit in on an s-team meeting, a 504 meeting and an IEP meeting. Get all your paperwork done, your lessons planned, and then teach, teach, teach kids who aren't fed, washed, or cared for.
It's a tough thing to Not Leave A Child Behind when parents, such as they are, don't parent and are doing their best to drag their children down.
P.S. I haven't read the report cited above. I'd like to, but as of yet I haven't found it, just articles about it (and I'm not paying for any article, thankyewverymuch.) If anyone finds it, let us know.
Case in point. I had a student last year who had a lot of severe mental problems, bi-polar being the least of them. Biological dad was in jail somewhere in another state, he lived with mom and sister. He spent time during his sixth grade year in a mental institution, and did a return visit during the year I had him. He was spending most of his eighth grade year in our Behavior Adjustment unit but I noticed recently that I hadn't seen him around which was unusual. I mentioned this to the BA teacher the other day and she informed me that his mother had washed her hands of him and turned him over to the state and he was now in foster care and attending another school. The BA teacher was in court (called as a witness) when this happened and basically said that his mother told the court that she didn't want anything to do with him any more. I'm sure hearing that must have made this kid's day.
Another teacher, Mrs. Strawberry, was summoned to court last week to appear as a witness in a custody case involving a student. She mentioned that while she sat in the court waiting for her case to come up not one, not two, but three parents were there turning their kids over to the state! And that's just one day in one court in one city.
And of course last week we had the President trot out his first education policy speech laced with buzzwords like accountability. Of course, he means, like every other politician out there, teacher accountability.
What I want to know is when in the bloody hell are parents going to start to be held accountable?
I get a number of education-related email newsletters every day and one this week had an interesting blurb about a study done by Henry C. Berliner and published jointly by the Education and Public Interest Center at the University of Colorado at Boulder and Arizona State University's Education Policy Research Unit that described seven out-of-school factors that play a role in a child's educational success. (For those of us in the classroom this is a big "duh" moment as we already know this - apparently most policy makers either don't or they don't care.) The factors include prenatal care, health care, food insecurity, environmental pollutants, family stress, neighborhood characteristics and extended learning systems.
I firmly believe that before any legislator, and that includes the President, makes any sort of law or policy in education, they need to walk in our shoes. This does not mean going to a high achieving elementary school with freshly scrubbed, well dressed, well fed cherubs who sit at your feet while you read a picture book to them and you get your photo op for the networks. How about working as a substitute teacher for a few weeks? Spend some time in the behavior adjustment unit with the kids with mental issues. How about some time working as the in school suspension teacher? Try to set up a parent meeting with a parent that not only didn't provide us with a working phone number, but all the other emergency contact numbers are bad as well. And then when you get that meeting set up (should that miracle occur) how about standing in the office for fifteen minutes waiting for the parent to not show up? How about enjoying that parent phone call where they tell you that "what happens in school is not my problem, you deal with it!". Sit in on an s-team meeting, a 504 meeting and an IEP meeting. Get all your paperwork done, your lessons planned, and then teach, teach, teach kids who aren't fed, washed, or cared for.
It's a tough thing to Not Leave A Child Behind when parents, such as they are, don't parent and are doing their best to drag their children down.
P.S. I haven't read the report cited above. I'd like to, but as of yet I haven't found it, just articles about it (and I'm not paying for any article, thankyewverymuch.) If anyone finds it, let us know.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Ah the Drama!
I. Am. So. Sick. Of. The. Girl. Drama.
To the point where if one more whiny seventh grade girl comes up to me and says she needs to have a schedule change because so and so is talking mean about her, I'm going to completely lose it and it won't be pretty. I am not alone. The whole team is fed up with the drama and the whining and the fussing and the "she said, she said, she said," crap. Even Coach Math has had enough. We're about ready to pull a team Come to Jesus meeting and basically slap them upside with reality.
As someone who came to education after 15 years in the corporate world - 15 years spent working, at times, with complete idiots that I didn't particularly like or enjoy working with but I sucked it up because it was my JOB - it drives me nuts when a kid comes up and asks for a seat change or a schedule change because "I don't get along with so and so."
Suck it up and deal with it kiddo. You're going to go through life having to deal with people you don't like so get used to it now.
(Disclaimer: When it's a real case of bullying, we take care of it and take care of it fast. What we have here is just a simple case of a bunch of kids sniping and whining and being snotty to each other. I will not write a kid up for bullying who simply tells another girl that she doesn't like her outfit.)
They hate my answer by the way. The expect their teachers to simply rearrange the seating chart to accommodate their wishes. It kills them when they realize that my world doesn't revolve around them.
So, this past week, we've had the Girl Drama thing going on, which includes a formerly sweet girl who's now become the Mean Girl, who talked trash about Hyperventilating Girl who, apparently broke up with her boyfriend (good riddance I say) and when Mean Girl started being a bitch to her at lunch, hyperventilated and almost fainted at lunch. So of course, now Hyperventilating Girl doesn't want to come to fifth period even though Mean Girl is All The Way Across The Freaking Classroom from her. (I got an email from Guidance Mom asking to move Mean Girl away from Hyperventilating Girl. I responded that if I moved them any further away, one of them would be in her office and the other outside. Apparently the two girls made it sound like they were lab partners - NOT!)
And then Quiet Girl's Mother came down and requested a class change because - Guess Who?!?!? - was being mean to her and she didn't want to come to school because she was sick of dealing with it all. The fact that we've never even seen these two talk, they don't sit near each other, and Quiet Girl never said boo to us was par for the course. Hell, we didn't even know they even really knew who each other was. The class change happened and now the floodgates have opened. Every whiner on the team is now wanting to rush to guidance to get their schedule changed because after all, Quiet Girl did.
Mean Girl, in the meantime, is batting her eyelashes, proclaiming her innocence, and then running up to Ms. Language and Miss Reading (she knows better than to suck up to Mrs. Social Studies and me) tattling about Hyperventilating Girl and everyone else she can think of. I might add that Mean Girl, like most students, think of teachers as furniture so she doesn't realize how often I, and her other teachers, actually hear her snotty comments. I circulate through the room all the time (which is why my chair looks new - I rarely sit in it) and they'll all just carry on like I'm not there at times. Amazing what gossip you can pick up.
And then there's the whole lunchroom drama about someone taking a Capri Sun drink and squeezing it, and getting a few other someones wet with it and Now We All Want Class Changes Because We Don't Want To Be With Those People.
Oh dear Lord, if I don't go postal on these kids before the week is out, it will be a miracle.
To the point where if one more whiny seventh grade girl comes up to me and says she needs to have a schedule change because so and so is talking mean about her, I'm going to completely lose it and it won't be pretty. I am not alone. The whole team is fed up with the drama and the whining and the fussing and the "she said, she said, she said," crap. Even Coach Math has had enough. We're about ready to pull a team Come to Jesus meeting and basically slap them upside with reality.
As someone who came to education after 15 years in the corporate world - 15 years spent working, at times, with complete idiots that I didn't particularly like or enjoy working with but I sucked it up because it was my JOB - it drives me nuts when a kid comes up and asks for a seat change or a schedule change because "I don't get along with so and so."
Suck it up and deal with it kiddo. You're going to go through life having to deal with people you don't like so get used to it now.
(Disclaimer: When it's a real case of bullying, we take care of it and take care of it fast. What we have here is just a simple case of a bunch of kids sniping and whining and being snotty to each other. I will not write a kid up for bullying who simply tells another girl that she doesn't like her outfit.)
They hate my answer by the way. The expect their teachers to simply rearrange the seating chart to accommodate their wishes. It kills them when they realize that my world doesn't revolve around them.
So, this past week, we've had the Girl Drama thing going on, which includes a formerly sweet girl who's now become the Mean Girl, who talked trash about Hyperventilating Girl who, apparently broke up with her boyfriend (good riddance I say) and when Mean Girl started being a bitch to her at lunch, hyperventilated and almost fainted at lunch. So of course, now Hyperventilating Girl doesn't want to come to fifth period even though Mean Girl is All The Way Across The Freaking Classroom from her. (I got an email from Guidance Mom asking to move Mean Girl away from Hyperventilating Girl. I responded that if I moved them any further away, one of them would be in her office and the other outside. Apparently the two girls made it sound like they were lab partners - NOT!)
And then Quiet Girl's Mother came down and requested a class change because - Guess Who?!?!? - was being mean to her and she didn't want to come to school because she was sick of dealing with it all. The fact that we've never even seen these two talk, they don't sit near each other, and Quiet Girl never said boo to us was par for the course. Hell, we didn't even know they even really knew who each other was. The class change happened and now the floodgates have opened. Every whiner on the team is now wanting to rush to guidance to get their schedule changed because after all, Quiet Girl did.
Mean Girl, in the meantime, is batting her eyelashes, proclaiming her innocence, and then running up to Ms. Language and Miss Reading (she knows better than to suck up to Mrs. Social Studies and me) tattling about Hyperventilating Girl and everyone else she can think of. I might add that Mean Girl, like most students, think of teachers as furniture so she doesn't realize how often I, and her other teachers, actually hear her snotty comments. I circulate through the room all the time (which is why my chair looks new - I rarely sit in it) and they'll all just carry on like I'm not there at times. Amazing what gossip you can pick up.
And then there's the whole lunchroom drama about someone taking a Capri Sun drink and squeezing it, and getting a few other someones wet with it and Now We All Want Class Changes Because We Don't Want To Be With Those People.
Oh dear Lord, if I don't go postal on these kids before the week is out, it will be a miracle.
Carnival Time!
Do you need a break like I do? If so, chill for a bit and head over to Right Wing Nation for this week's carnival!!! And bring some ice cream!
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Dairy Product Disbelief
I swear to goodness, you can't make this stuff up.
I am back to teaching my classes and we're doing our unit on flowers and plants. This isn't a difficult unit. We've already done the whole photosynthesis thing and now we're moving on to plant and flower parts, reproduction, and the importance of plants in our world. The kids actually do pretty well on this, probably because we're talking about sex. Yeah, it's plant reproduction, but it's still sex in their minds.
So, it's my Fourth Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself, and we're finishing up the interactive reader packet that we're working on and I begin wrapping up the lesson by reinforcing, yet again, how important that plants are to our survival. I mention that nearly everything we eat comes from a plant product or it ate a plant product before we ate it. For example, I mention that the cow that produces the hamburger, the cheese, and the ice cream they all like ate grass, which is a plant.
And then I hear this voice..."You mean ice cream comes from a cow?"
And another, "A cow? Really? It comes from a cow?"
And pretty soon there's about dozen astonished faces looking at me in various stages of shock, disbelief, and amazement and they're all going on about the utterly amazing fact that ice cream - ice cream! - comes from, of all things, a cow.
I look across at Mrs. Jayhawker and she looks at me and we're both exchanging looks that say, "Oh. My. God. They have no clue that ice cream is a dairy product and it comes from a cow."
I was momentarily stunned (and after six years of seventh grade, that takes some work to stun me.)
"You guys seriously didn't know that cream, that makes ice cream, comes from a cow?" I ask.
They all respond in the affirmative. They had no idea. Two kids are grossed out about it (oh get real) and they're all just amazed. One wanted to know how it got flavored. It didn't occur to them that you could mix stuff up in ice cream to make it flavored.
I'll have to admit that this is the first time that I've encountered nearly an entire classroom of twelve and thirteen year olds that had no clue about the origins of most dairy products. Amazing. I'm guessing they all thing it just comes to Walmart.
Still, it's rather sad in a way that these kids live a life in such a vacuum that they don't even know where the food they eat actually, originally, comes from. And kind of scary as well.
I am back to teaching my classes and we're doing our unit on flowers and plants. This isn't a difficult unit. We've already done the whole photosynthesis thing and now we're moving on to plant and flower parts, reproduction, and the importance of plants in our world. The kids actually do pretty well on this, probably because we're talking about sex. Yeah, it's plant reproduction, but it's still sex in their minds.
So, it's my Fourth Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself, and we're finishing up the interactive reader packet that we're working on and I begin wrapping up the lesson by reinforcing, yet again, how important that plants are to our survival. I mention that nearly everything we eat comes from a plant product or it ate a plant product before we ate it. For example, I mention that the cow that produces the hamburger, the cheese, and the ice cream they all like ate grass, which is a plant.
And then I hear this voice..."You mean ice cream comes from a cow?"
And another, "A cow? Really? It comes from a cow?"
And pretty soon there's about dozen astonished faces looking at me in various stages of shock, disbelief, and amazement and they're all going on about the utterly amazing fact that ice cream - ice cream! - comes from, of all things, a cow.
I look across at Mrs. Jayhawker and she looks at me and we're both exchanging looks that say, "Oh. My. God. They have no clue that ice cream is a dairy product and it comes from a cow."
I was momentarily stunned (and after six years of seventh grade, that takes some work to stun me.)
"You guys seriously didn't know that cream, that makes ice cream, comes from a cow?" I ask.
They all respond in the affirmative. They had no idea. Two kids are grossed out about it (oh get real) and they're all just amazed. One wanted to know how it got flavored. It didn't occur to them that you could mix stuff up in ice cream to make it flavored.
I'll have to admit that this is the first time that I've encountered nearly an entire classroom of twelve and thirteen year olds that had no clue about the origins of most dairy products. Amazing. I'm guessing they all thing it just comes to Walmart.
Still, it's rather sad in a way that these kids live a life in such a vacuum that they don't even know where the food they eat actually, originally, comes from. And kind of scary as well.
A Parent Crawls Out of the Woodwork
It is amazing what can get a parent to sit up and actually pay attention.
As a team, we have been trying to get Sassy Girl's mother in for a meeting since September. We have scheduled two meetings, where she was a no-show. She received a personal invitation to our second night of conferences and was again a no-show. She has never returned a phone call, and it's a miracle of nature if she actually picks up the phone when you call. She's received three copies of the letter that went out at the end of the first semester indicating that Sassy Girl was - surprise, surprise - failing all five of her academic classes. She never signed and returned the letter. In short, when it comes to parenting, she's missing in action.
So, the other day, when Sassy Girl got mouthy in Mrs. Language's class it was apparently having to do with a disagreement over a dress code violation. Sassy Girl was showing a bit too much cleavage and Ms. Language told her to go to guidance and get something else to wear. At this point Ms. Language was being nice and giving Sassy Girl a chance to avoid a discipline referral by changing her top. Sassy Girl didn't see it that way and she got really sassy and the long and short of it was she ended up in In School Suspension (insert Happy Dance here) for three days.
Well.
We finally heard from Sassy Girl's Mom. She took offense at the fact that her daughter who "was not dressed bad", got in trouble because of a dress code violation. (Well, actually it was her reaction to the dress code violation and her mouth that got her in trouble, but I digress.) She wrote a note on the back of the referral that basically said that we had no business telling her daughter that she was violating dress code.
Eight months we've been trying to get this parent engaged. Eight months. We've been trying to get her to communicate with us about failing grades (and I mean free-fall failing grades) and her daughter's horrid behavior (which is why she has the failing grades - she's perfectly capable should be be so moved to actually try). Not a word. She's ignored us, stood us up, basically disappeared. God forbid she actually talks to us about something that will impact her daughter's life forever.
But oh, Lordy, how dare we say her daughter is flashing her boobs!!! Now that's cause to get pissed.
Good gracious. I hope I have halfway normal parents next year.
As a team, we have been trying to get Sassy Girl's mother in for a meeting since September. We have scheduled two meetings, where she was a no-show. She received a personal invitation to our second night of conferences and was again a no-show. She has never returned a phone call, and it's a miracle of nature if she actually picks up the phone when you call. She's received three copies of the letter that went out at the end of the first semester indicating that Sassy Girl was - surprise, surprise - failing all five of her academic classes. She never signed and returned the letter. In short, when it comes to parenting, she's missing in action.
So, the other day, when Sassy Girl got mouthy in Mrs. Language's class it was apparently having to do with a disagreement over a dress code violation. Sassy Girl was showing a bit too much cleavage and Ms. Language told her to go to guidance and get something else to wear. At this point Ms. Language was being nice and giving Sassy Girl a chance to avoid a discipline referral by changing her top. Sassy Girl didn't see it that way and she got really sassy and the long and short of it was she ended up in In School Suspension (insert Happy Dance here) for three days.
Well.
We finally heard from Sassy Girl's Mom. She took offense at the fact that her daughter who "was not dressed bad", got in trouble because of a dress code violation. (Well, actually it was her reaction to the dress code violation and her mouth that got her in trouble, but I digress.) She wrote a note on the back of the referral that basically said that we had no business telling her daughter that she was violating dress code.
Eight months we've been trying to get this parent engaged. Eight months. We've been trying to get her to communicate with us about failing grades (and I mean free-fall failing grades) and her daughter's horrid behavior (which is why she has the failing grades - she's perfectly capable should be be so moved to actually try). Not a word. She's ignored us, stood us up, basically disappeared. God forbid she actually talks to us about something that will impact her daughter's life forever.
But oh, Lordy, how dare we say her daughter is flashing her boobs!!! Now that's cause to get pissed.
Good gracious. I hope I have halfway normal parents next year.
Monday, March 02, 2009
A Perfect Gift for a Student Teacher
This is Mrs. Jayhawker's last week. She's phasing out of teaching and is spending more time observing me and some other teachers at work. It's been a really good experience for both of us - she's awesome and if she wasn't moving Up North after graduation, I'd love to have her on board here at The School. Too bad Mr. Jayhawker is getting transferred.
Mrs. Eagle, Mrs. Duck and I are taking her out to dinner on Thursday to celebrate, and I've knit her a lovely lace wool scarf that she will need when she relocates Up North. However, that may not be the gift she appreciates the most. That gift she got today.
Sassy Girl is back - yes! - in ISS for the rest of the week.
Sassy Girl is probably one of the most annoying kids we have this year. I wouldn't mind her being annoying if she was quiet, but unfortunately, she's one of the loudest girls I've ever seen. She shouts out constantly. Walking in a room is a production for her. She has a little group of friends who think she's funnier than all get out when she sashays into the room, but for the most part the kids roll their eyes and just wish she would Shut The Hell Up. She is, of course, in My Fourth Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself, along with her little group of friends, and if you can get through the period without wanting to kill her, it's a good day. For her, it's all about the seventh grade social scene.
Mom, of course, has stood us up for two parent meetings that we called and scheduled. Now, she won't answer the phone or return messages. She doesn't want to hear it.
Anyway, Sassy Girl apparently really got mouthy during Mrs. Language's class and so Mrs. Language wrote her up. Mrs. Squirrel, worked the referral and of course Sassy Girl pulled her stunt that Mrs. Language was - gasp! - lying about the whole thing.
Now, granted, Sassy Girl isn't that bright to start with, but this goes beyond stupid. For one thing, she tried this stunt just a few weeks ago when she said Mrs. Jayhawker was lying, so Mrs. Squirrel had Mrs. Jayhawker come in and basically tell her side of the story, and the long and short of it was that Mrs. Squirrel gave Sassy Girl absolute grief about lying and put her up in ISS for three days (of peace and quiet). Every time a kid says that a teacher is lying, Mrs. Squirrel will find someone to cover our class, and we'll go in her office and tell our side of the story. As Mrs. Squirrel says, "it never works out good for the kid, and they end up with lying to compound their sins."
Please note that we are blessed - blessed - with administrators who have our back and who believe us.
So, Mrs. Language goes in, tells the story and in a matter of minutes, Sassy Girl is a wailing, sniveling mass of tears, snot and what not in front of Mrs. Squirrel's desk. Mrs. Squirrel is looking disgusted at the scene, tells Sassy Girl to "Dry it up!" and get her books and bounces her out to ISS.
And these three days of peace away from Sassy Girl are probably the best present Mrs. Jayhawker could wish for.
Mrs. Eagle, Mrs. Duck and I are taking her out to dinner on Thursday to celebrate, and I've knit her a lovely lace wool scarf that she will need when she relocates Up North. However, that may not be the gift she appreciates the most. That gift she got today.
Sassy Girl is back - yes! - in ISS for the rest of the week.
Sassy Girl is probably one of the most annoying kids we have this year. I wouldn't mind her being annoying if she was quiet, but unfortunately, she's one of the loudest girls I've ever seen. She shouts out constantly. Walking in a room is a production for her. She has a little group of friends who think she's funnier than all get out when she sashays into the room, but for the most part the kids roll their eyes and just wish she would Shut The Hell Up. She is, of course, in My Fourth Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself, along with her little group of friends, and if you can get through the period without wanting to kill her, it's a good day. For her, it's all about the seventh grade social scene.
Mom, of course, has stood us up for two parent meetings that we called and scheduled. Now, she won't answer the phone or return messages. She doesn't want to hear it.
Anyway, Sassy Girl apparently really got mouthy during Mrs. Language's class and so Mrs. Language wrote her up. Mrs. Squirrel, worked the referral and of course Sassy Girl pulled her stunt that Mrs. Language was - gasp! - lying about the whole thing.
Now, granted, Sassy Girl isn't that bright to start with, but this goes beyond stupid. For one thing, she tried this stunt just a few weeks ago when she said Mrs. Jayhawker was lying, so Mrs. Squirrel had Mrs. Jayhawker come in and basically tell her side of the story, and the long and short of it was that Mrs. Squirrel gave Sassy Girl absolute grief about lying and put her up in ISS for three days (of peace and quiet). Every time a kid says that a teacher is lying, Mrs. Squirrel will find someone to cover our class, and we'll go in her office and tell our side of the story. As Mrs. Squirrel says, "it never works out good for the kid, and they end up with lying to compound their sins."
Please note that we are blessed - blessed - with administrators who have our back and who believe us.
So, Mrs. Language goes in, tells the story and in a matter of minutes, Sassy Girl is a wailing, sniveling mass of tears, snot and what not in front of Mrs. Squirrel's desk. Mrs. Squirrel is looking disgusted at the scene, tells Sassy Girl to "Dry it up!" and get her books and bounces her out to ISS.
And these three days of peace away from Sassy Girl are probably the best present Mrs. Jayhawker could wish for.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Lost Books, Lockers, and Lazy Seventh Graders
Middle Schoolers are a strange bunch.
When they hit sixth grade they are nearly beside themselves with joy over the fact that they actually get a real, honest to goodness locker. It's a rite of passage for them. In elementary school they kept their books (and various sundry other articles like string, tech-decks, parts of ink pens, broken crayons, and goodness always knows what else) in their desks, but when they hit middle school they grow up (in theory) and get lockers.
Of course, to hear the sixth grade teachers tell it, it takes about half a year for them to figure out how to open the darn things. I believe they may be stretching it a bit.
However, for some weird reason, we have a bunch of seventh graders this year who just don't feel the need to use their lockers and proceed to leave their books just about anywhere they drop. I find books on the floor of my room, under tables, left on counters, out in the hall, you name it. This bunch of kids, of course, rarely ever have their books in class because - surprise! - they don't remember where they left them! What's strange is these kids all have lockers that work perfectly fine. They just choose, for whatever strange reason, not to use them. Most likely they are preferring to hang in the hallway gossiping with their friends and just don't have time to fiddle around with a combination lock.
We have one kid, Lazy Locker Boy, who thinks that his homeroom teacher, Mrs. Social Studies, is the keeper of his books. And if she's not keeping his books, apparently they're residing in my room.
Think again, kiddo.
Mrs. Social Studies and I hit our limit this week when, for something like the two hundredth time, we found all of Lazy Locker Boy's books scattered in our rooms. I decided to go to the big gun and that would be Mrs. Squirrel, the administrator in charge of textbooks. Mrs. Squirrel is determined never to have the school lose a single book so when she finds out that kids aren't taking care of books, she gets really, really irate. Really. It drives her nuts that kids can toss a sixty dollar text book out in the hallway where anyone can steal it, lose it, mutilate it, and so forth.
And trust me, although Mrs. Squirrel is a nature lover and is a kind, big-hearted softie when it comes to most kids and small animals, when she's irate, she's downright scary.
I dropped off the pile of books that belonged to Lazy Locker Boy and explained the situation to Mrs. Squirrel. Her eyes blazed. She said to send Lazy Locker Boy to her and she'd give him his books after she gave him a lecture and informed him that the next time his books found their way to her office he'd earn a discipline referral.
Lazy Locker Boy slunk back to his class and seemed to get the picture. No books were found strewn through the team area yesterday.
However.
Due to the age of our lockers, and the generally poor condition they are in, we have a number of lockers in our area that are broken and that don't close. These are not assigned to anyone (obviously, since they are not secure), and are supposed to be kept empty and clean.
Guess what I found in one of these broken lockers today?
Oh yeah...some of Lazy Locker Boy's books.
They are now sitting on the desk outside Mrs. Squirrel's office. Tomorrow should prove interesting.
When they hit sixth grade they are nearly beside themselves with joy over the fact that they actually get a real, honest to goodness locker. It's a rite of passage for them. In elementary school they kept their books (and various sundry other articles like string, tech-decks, parts of ink pens, broken crayons, and goodness always knows what else) in their desks, but when they hit middle school they grow up (in theory) and get lockers.
Of course, to hear the sixth grade teachers tell it, it takes about half a year for them to figure out how to open the darn things. I believe they may be stretching it a bit.
However, for some weird reason, we have a bunch of seventh graders this year who just don't feel the need to use their lockers and proceed to leave their books just about anywhere they drop. I find books on the floor of my room, under tables, left on counters, out in the hall, you name it. This bunch of kids, of course, rarely ever have their books in class because - surprise! - they don't remember where they left them! What's strange is these kids all have lockers that work perfectly fine. They just choose, for whatever strange reason, not to use them. Most likely they are preferring to hang in the hallway gossiping with their friends and just don't have time to fiddle around with a combination lock.
We have one kid, Lazy Locker Boy, who thinks that his homeroom teacher, Mrs. Social Studies, is the keeper of his books. And if she's not keeping his books, apparently they're residing in my room.
Think again, kiddo.
Mrs. Social Studies and I hit our limit this week when, for something like the two hundredth time, we found all of Lazy Locker Boy's books scattered in our rooms. I decided to go to the big gun and that would be Mrs. Squirrel, the administrator in charge of textbooks. Mrs. Squirrel is determined never to have the school lose a single book so when she finds out that kids aren't taking care of books, she gets really, really irate. Really. It drives her nuts that kids can toss a sixty dollar text book out in the hallway where anyone can steal it, lose it, mutilate it, and so forth.
And trust me, although Mrs. Squirrel is a nature lover and is a kind, big-hearted softie when it comes to most kids and small animals, when she's irate, she's downright scary.
I dropped off the pile of books that belonged to Lazy Locker Boy and explained the situation to Mrs. Squirrel. Her eyes blazed. She said to send Lazy Locker Boy to her and she'd give him his books after she gave him a lecture and informed him that the next time his books found their way to her office he'd earn a discipline referral.
Lazy Locker Boy slunk back to his class and seemed to get the picture. No books were found strewn through the team area yesterday.
However.
Due to the age of our lockers, and the generally poor condition they are in, we have a number of lockers in our area that are broken and that don't close. These are not assigned to anyone (obviously, since they are not secure), and are supposed to be kept empty and clean.
Guess what I found in one of these broken lockers today?
Oh yeah...some of Lazy Locker Boy's books.
They are now sitting on the desk outside Mrs. Squirrel's office. Tomorrow should prove interesting.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Finding Jeff Spicoli
I went to high school in Southern California in the late 70's. Remember the 1982 movie classic, "Fast Times at Ridgemont High"? That, my friends, could have easily been my high school. We actually had surfing as a physical education elective and it wasn't unusual to see stoned out surfer dudes sitting in class like the character of Jeff Spicoli, played by Sean Penn. In fact, my best friend Diane and I were often selected (because we were smart, nice girls and weren't likely to get crushes on idiots) to help peer tutor some of these potheads in a feeble attempt to help them graduate.
So to say that I know a stoner when I see one is a pretty fair assessment.
I have had, since day one of school, Spicoli Boy sitting in a dazed stupor in my Fourth Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself. He's not a problem behavior-wise outside of the fact that there are times I feel a need to check his pulse to see that he's alive and hasn't just passed away sitting upright with his eyes half-closed. He never has a pencil. He never has paper. He never has a book, a binder, and certainly not a clue. I'm stunned, quite honestly, that he can even remember his schedule.
So imagine my surprise when I pull his records and find out that this kid is (was) as smart as a whip and actually was advanced on his Big Deal Government Mandated State Tests in the past. He did manage to pass sixth grade, although he exhibited a slide academically. This year, however, it's not a slide, but an out and out free-fall.
Every single one of us on the team has tried to reach this kid, pulling him aside to ask what's up, getting guidance to talk to him, seeing if he needs help with his locker, you name it. We have all tried getting his dad in for a meeting (parents are divorced, he lives with dad) which was singularly unsuccessful. My first call was three weeks into the school year and Spicoli Dad, who didn't sound all that focused himself, said he'd "take care of it". I've lost track of the phone calls we've made home.
Finally, Spicoli Mom made contact with guidance and after a few false starts we managed to get her in for a meeting to discuss what, if anything, we could do for this kid...after all, he did announce to Coach Math and his entire class that he was going to take the year off and just cruise because he'd get passed on anyway.
(Well, he's right, and that burns my ass like you have no idea, but that's a topic for another post.)
Our big dilemma was how to tell Spicoli Mom, without coming right out and saying "hey, your kid is stoned in class all the time," that her kid is, well, stoned in class all the time. That's a pretty serious accusation to make (without a drug test to back it up) and that could get us into some hot water.
Spicoli Mom seemed pretty together, and with it, and expressed her concern about his drop in grades, performance, and all. She was particularly interested in the fact that her ex refused to meet with us, and told us that he feels that Spicoli Boy is old enough to be responsible for his own schooling and he wasn't going to "baby-sit" him. (Great parenting skills there, eh?) She mentioned being concerned about the kids he hangs around with in the neighborhood, including an 8th grader and some high school kids, and would like to see a change in his choice of friends.
We all expressed concern about his lack of performance, pencil, paper, book, you name it, mentioned how he was "zoned", "spaced out", "not with us", in class, how he jumped when you called his name, how he didn't seem to socialize with kids on the team, just the older kids after school, and they were trouble. We mentioned that if she was concerned about his friends, "who could, perhaps, be doing things that aren't appropriate, such as experimenting with drugs and alcohol," that perhaps she and her ex may want to consider a change of school (she lives in another zone).
She nodded, expressed more concern, and said she'd see what she could do. She called me the next morning and said that Spicoli Boy cried big crocodile tears and said he always did all his work and turned it in and we all lost it and never gave him credit.
Really.
So, wanna guess who got popped, finally, for having a bit of weed on him the other day?
Think Spicoli Mom gets it now?
I'm not gambling on that one. Perhaps the judge will make it a bit more clear for her.
So to say that I know a stoner when I see one is a pretty fair assessment.
I have had, since day one of school, Spicoli Boy sitting in a dazed stupor in my Fourth Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself. He's not a problem behavior-wise outside of the fact that there are times I feel a need to check his pulse to see that he's alive and hasn't just passed away sitting upright with his eyes half-closed. He never has a pencil. He never has paper. He never has a book, a binder, and certainly not a clue. I'm stunned, quite honestly, that he can even remember his schedule.
So imagine my surprise when I pull his records and find out that this kid is (was) as smart as a whip and actually was advanced on his Big Deal Government Mandated State Tests in the past. He did manage to pass sixth grade, although he exhibited a slide academically. This year, however, it's not a slide, but an out and out free-fall.
Every single one of us on the team has tried to reach this kid, pulling him aside to ask what's up, getting guidance to talk to him, seeing if he needs help with his locker, you name it. We have all tried getting his dad in for a meeting (parents are divorced, he lives with dad) which was singularly unsuccessful. My first call was three weeks into the school year and Spicoli Dad, who didn't sound all that focused himself, said he'd "take care of it". I've lost track of the phone calls we've made home.
Finally, Spicoli Mom made contact with guidance and after a few false starts we managed to get her in for a meeting to discuss what, if anything, we could do for this kid...after all, he did announce to Coach Math and his entire class that he was going to take the year off and just cruise because he'd get passed on anyway.
(Well, he's right, and that burns my ass like you have no idea, but that's a topic for another post.)
Our big dilemma was how to tell Spicoli Mom, without coming right out and saying "hey, your kid is stoned in class all the time," that her kid is, well, stoned in class all the time. That's a pretty serious accusation to make (without a drug test to back it up) and that could get us into some hot water.
Spicoli Mom seemed pretty together, and with it, and expressed her concern about his drop in grades, performance, and all. She was particularly interested in the fact that her ex refused to meet with us, and told us that he feels that Spicoli Boy is old enough to be responsible for his own schooling and he wasn't going to "baby-sit" him. (Great parenting skills there, eh?) She mentioned being concerned about the kids he hangs around with in the neighborhood, including an 8th grader and some high school kids, and would like to see a change in his choice of friends.
We all expressed concern about his lack of performance, pencil, paper, book, you name it, mentioned how he was "zoned", "spaced out", "not with us", in class, how he jumped when you called his name, how he didn't seem to socialize with kids on the team, just the older kids after school, and they were trouble. We mentioned that if she was concerned about his friends, "who could, perhaps, be doing things that aren't appropriate, such as experimenting with drugs and alcohol," that perhaps she and her ex may want to consider a change of school (she lives in another zone).
She nodded, expressed more concern, and said she'd see what she could do. She called me the next morning and said that Spicoli Boy cried big crocodile tears and said he always did all his work and turned it in and we all lost it and never gave him credit.
Really.
So, wanna guess who got popped, finally, for having a bit of weed on him the other day?
Think Spicoli Mom gets it now?
I'm not gambling on that one. Perhaps the judge will make it a bit more clear for her.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Of Tears and Toys and Thank Goodness We Have a Day Off
One thing about dealing with seventh graders is that you have a wide - and I mean wide - variety in maturity levels when dealing with these kids. You have kids who are interested in more adult things such as girls/boys, cars, sports, and the like, and then you have kids who are more interested in more child-oriented things like action figures, dolls, Hannah Montana, and the like.
On an aside, it always cracks me up how a girl will start the year proudly displaying her Hannah Montana school supplies (backpack, binder, notepads, etc.) and by the end of the year totally deny ever having an interested in anything so lame!
I'm still hanging out being useful in guidance and was there when the Guidance Goddess got a phone call from me from Ms. Language. Apparently one of our kids was having a melt-down in class and she wanted me to remove him and calm him down.
I grabbed my box of tissues and went to her room.
The child in question is Animation Boy. I love Animation Boy. Absolutely love this kid. He is, unfortunately, in my Fourth Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself (Fifth period has, amazing, relinquished this title this semester, most likely after having three of the biggest trouble makers withdraw from school and move out of the area). Animation Boy has Asperger's and has trouble staying on task and definitely has trouble dealing with kids his own age. He's great with adults but the kids are too snotty to realize how funny and clever he is - he loves to create computer animations and if they could see some of his stuff he'd probably be a lot more accepted. But kids are jerks to those who are different, and so Animation Boy tends to be a bit of a loaner.
When I got to Ms. Language's class, Animation Boy had his head on his desk, his eyes were puffy with tears and you could tell he was mad. I had him grab his things and we went to sit in the guidance lobby so we could talk and I could get to the bottom of whatever was bothering him. (I was lucky in that there were actually seats in guidance as it's been a wild weak with fights and all sorts of shenanigans, mainly brought on by a warm weather streak.)
Apparently Animation Boy was having a meltdown over an issue with a Bukugan toy.
Don't feel bad, I didn't know what a Bukugan toy was either. However, Animation Boy spent about twenty minutes with me explaining the toys, showing me the toy in question, and basically educating me on the whole Bukugan culture at The School. They are, as best I can tell, cute little balls that open up and change shape when you put them on metal. They have different energy levels and ratings and are very collectible among a certain group of my students.
I had a great time listening to this kid go on and on about something that was obviously important to him, and I did get to the root of the problem which had to do with a trade, a sale of toys, a stolen toy, a found toy, and a kid who really wanted this rare model of the toy. Animation Boy did do the right thing, realizing that the kid who bought the toy actually paid money for it, and even if Animation Boy found it, he probably shouldn't keep it, so he gave it to me to give back to the owner of the toy.
And I only went through two tissues!
On an aside, it always cracks me up how a girl will start the year proudly displaying her Hannah Montana school supplies (backpack, binder, notepads, etc.) and by the end of the year totally deny ever having an interested in anything so lame!
I'm still hanging out being useful in guidance and was there when the Guidance Goddess got a phone call from me from Ms. Language. Apparently one of our kids was having a melt-down in class and she wanted me to remove him and calm him down.
I grabbed my box of tissues and went to her room.
The child in question is Animation Boy. I love Animation Boy. Absolutely love this kid. He is, unfortunately, in my Fourth Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself (Fifth period has, amazing, relinquished this title this semester, most likely after having three of the biggest trouble makers withdraw from school and move out of the area). Animation Boy has Asperger's and has trouble staying on task and definitely has trouble dealing with kids his own age. He's great with adults but the kids are too snotty to realize how funny and clever he is - he loves to create computer animations and if they could see some of his stuff he'd probably be a lot more accepted. But kids are jerks to those who are different, and so Animation Boy tends to be a bit of a loaner.
When I got to Ms. Language's class, Animation Boy had his head on his desk, his eyes were puffy with tears and you could tell he was mad. I had him grab his things and we went to sit in the guidance lobby so we could talk and I could get to the bottom of whatever was bothering him. (I was lucky in that there were actually seats in guidance as it's been a wild weak with fights and all sorts of shenanigans, mainly brought on by a warm weather streak.)
Apparently Animation Boy was having a meltdown over an issue with a Bukugan toy.
Don't feel bad, I didn't know what a Bukugan toy was either. However, Animation Boy spent about twenty minutes with me explaining the toys, showing me the toy in question, and basically educating me on the whole Bukugan culture at The School. They are, as best I can tell, cute little balls that open up and change shape when you put them on metal. They have different energy levels and ratings and are very collectible among a certain group of my students.
I had a great time listening to this kid go on and on about something that was obviously important to him, and I did get to the root of the problem which had to do with a trade, a sale of toys, a stolen toy, a found toy, and a kid who really wanted this rare model of the toy. Animation Boy did do the right thing, realizing that the kid who bought the toy actually paid money for it, and even if Animation Boy found it, he probably shouldn't keep it, so he gave it to me to give back to the owner of the toy.
And I only went through two tissues!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Have Tissues, Will Travel
There are things they don't teach you in teacher school (like how to deal with drug-sniffing dogs).
Dealing with crying kids in the throes of emotional meltdowns is one of them.
Since I'm trying to make myself useful while Mrs. Jayhawker is tending to my classes, I seem to have become a tear magnet.
On Friday, Miss Reading asked me to help with a crying student of ours, Cheer Girl, who was bawling in the corner and wanted to go home. Fine. I can deal with this. I already had Pinball Boy weep all over me earlier in the week, so this should be a piece of cake.
I pulled Cheer Girl into the waiting area of Mr. Enforcer's office, about the only quiet place we could talk, and listened while Cheer Girl sobbed out a story that went king of along the lines of "well Amanda and Stacey and this other girl, I don't remember her name - sob - and we're all friends - sob - and then there's these other girls in gym - sob - and they don't like Stacey - sob - but I don't know them - and they like Tristan and Derek and Stacey used to date Matt - sob - and they were giving us looks - sob - and then they started telling everyone - sob - that Tristan liked me, but I think he's a jerk - sob - and I'm not sure what their names are - sob - but they were telling people - sob - that I'm a slut - sob - and I don't want anyone to thing that of me - sob - and it's not true - sob - and I wanna go home!!!!"
Got that?
After about fifteen minutes of tears, I finally got her calmed down, did a little self-esteem talk, and convinced her that running and going home wasn't an option. She pulled herself together and managed to make it through the day.
And that was just the beginning.
Monday I managed to get tears out of another one of my kids when I read him the riot act about bullying and picking on another kid (who's mildly autistic). Honestly, the kid I was getting after isn't a bad kid, just a goober most of the time, but he needed to be reminded that picking on others was not going to tolerated.
Today I had to work a referral for a sixth grader who lost his mind in the lunchroom and stomped on a full container of orange juice. This isn't a really big deal, just ten points and an after school detention, but apparently my little juice stomper (who fully admitted to losing his mind and stomping on the juice container) had just come off being grounded at home and was afraid he'd go right back to being grounded. The tears flowed and flowed and flowed. Oh good gracious. I put a note on the back of the referral for mom and dad to call me with any questions, thinking that I could tell them that at least he owned up to his mistake and they might go a bit easy on him.
I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings. Regardless, I'm bringing along a big box of tissues.
Dealing with crying kids in the throes of emotional meltdowns is one of them.
Since I'm trying to make myself useful while Mrs. Jayhawker is tending to my classes, I seem to have become a tear magnet.
On Friday, Miss Reading asked me to help with a crying student of ours, Cheer Girl, who was bawling in the corner and wanted to go home. Fine. I can deal with this. I already had Pinball Boy weep all over me earlier in the week, so this should be a piece of cake.
I pulled Cheer Girl into the waiting area of Mr. Enforcer's office, about the only quiet place we could talk, and listened while Cheer Girl sobbed out a story that went king of along the lines of "well Amanda and Stacey and this other girl, I don't remember her name - sob - and we're all friends - sob - and then there's these other girls in gym - sob - and they don't like Stacey - sob - but I don't know them - and they like Tristan and Derek and Stacey used to date Matt - sob - and they were giving us looks - sob - and then they started telling everyone - sob - that Tristan liked me, but I think he's a jerk - sob - and I'm not sure what their names are - sob - but they were telling people - sob - that I'm a slut - sob - and I don't want anyone to thing that of me - sob - and it's not true - sob - and I wanna go home!!!!"
Got that?
After about fifteen minutes of tears, I finally got her calmed down, did a little self-esteem talk, and convinced her that running and going home wasn't an option. She pulled herself together and managed to make it through the day.
And that was just the beginning.
Monday I managed to get tears out of another one of my kids when I read him the riot act about bullying and picking on another kid (who's mildly autistic). Honestly, the kid I was getting after isn't a bad kid, just a goober most of the time, but he needed to be reminded that picking on others was not going to tolerated.
Today I had to work a referral for a sixth grader who lost his mind in the lunchroom and stomped on a full container of orange juice. This isn't a really big deal, just ten points and an after school detention, but apparently my little juice stomper (who fully admitted to losing his mind and stomping on the juice container) had just come off being grounded at home and was afraid he'd go right back to being grounded. The tears flowed and flowed and flowed. Oh good gracious. I put a note on the back of the referral for mom and dad to call me with any questions, thinking that I could tell them that at least he owned up to his mistake and they might go a bit easy on him.
I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings. Regardless, I'm bringing along a big box of tissues.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Good Doggie, or The Most Interesting Things Happen When You Have a Student Teacher
Mrs. Jayhawker is flying solo this week (and doing a pretty good job of it, I might add), so I'm trying to make myself useful outside of my classroom. I've been getting a lot of team paperwork done, wrote a new benchmark quiz, and have done some one-on-one sessions with most of our kids to let them know what they need to do for the remainder of the school year to get academically promoted to eighth grade. For lack of a better place to work, I've sort of camped out in guidance, using a student laptop to work on stuff and hopefully lend a hand when needed (like the other day when Pinball Boy was having his meltdown.)
So, when Mr. Enforcer told me he'd need my help around 9 on Friday morning, I got curious.
"Something interesting going to happen?" I asked. I worked with him earlier in the year when we had a big deal disaster drill with some visiting consultants, and I knew they were coming back some time so I thought that might be it.
"Maybe," he said vaguely.
"Well, I have a student teacher so if there's anything she needs to know, I'd like to prep her," I said. I've been a sub and a student teacher and there's not much worse than being in a situation where you have no clue what to do.
"We may have some visitors and we may do a lockdown," he said. "Here's a print out of the procedure so she has it handy."
I thanked him, went in to see her (the kids were at their related arts) and gave her the lowdown, or what I knew so far. If she was lucky, it would happen at nine when all she had in the room were the kids that were supposed to show up for homework clinic.
I was on my way to Mr. Enforcer's Office when I heard him come over the intercom with the lockdown message. Kids were snatched into classrooms, doors went closed, and I hustled up to the front office to see a whole slew of law enforcement vehicles out front and a lot of officers in the lobby - with dogs!
Hey, it's a great day for a locker search!
It's no secret that drugs are a huge problem in schools, even elementary schools, sad to say, and even in schools in "good" communities. I taught in a nice rural area up North and we had a huge drug problem in that community (which always kind of made me shake my head when I'd hear parents yabber about how they moved to the country to escape the big city problems.) I've seen rich kids involved, and poor kids, and there's really no common denominator outside of the fact that they made some poor choices in life and were obviously missing something somewhere. We had regular sweeps, and managed to limit a lot of the drug problem at school because the kids knew that there could be a sweep at any time. True, they took the trade off-campus, but it did put a dent in the on-campus problems.
However, in the six years I've been at The School, we've never had a drug sweep. The first superintendent I served under absolutely refused to do so as he feared it would give the public the wrong idea. Honestly, I'd love it if they did the sweeps every quarter so the kids knew, like the ones up North, that bringing the stuff to school was a risk. Sadly, however, we've seen a big spike in drug trafficking in our area, including some rather large drug busts (one of which happened on parent conference day and made me wonder if perhaps some of my parents were a bit preoccupied with being arrested..) Our current superintendent decided it would be a good idea to sweep all the high schools and middle schools and see what they could find.
Mr. Enforcer gave me a bag of locker key masters and told me to go with one of the officers and sweep the sixth grade area. I ended up with an officer from a neighboring county who had a very sweet yellow lab who was prancing around and bubbling with excitement. It was obvious that this dog loved her job. We went through the sixth grade area, checked all the lockers, and the bathrooms, and came up clean. That was good.
"So," I asked the officer as we headed back to the main part of the building, "what would your dog do if she did smell something in a locker?"
"Oh, she'd sit down in front of it, like those dogs there," he said as we rounded the corner and spied two dogs sitting down in front of some lockers right outside my classroom.
Oh dear.
I knew who these lockers belonged to, and it wasn't even a surprise that the dogs got a hit on those lockers. One of the kids is the child of parents who deal in drugs (a well-known fact in the area) and has often been named as a source in the building although we've never been able to catch him with anything. The other is a kid who I've suspected was a user simply because of his demeanor most of the time. The officers searched these lockers, and came up empty for any illegal substances.
The only other hits were apparently quite a few down in the eighth grade wing, but again, a search was conducted and nothing was found. The officer I was with said that they often take the dogs to elementary schools and let the kids pet them and often the dog will indicate the presence of drugs on one of the children - they are so sensitive to the scent they will pick it up on clothing that a kid wears in a home where the parents are users. Considering the two lockers that were checked by my room, this didn't surprise me at all.
All in all it took an hour to sweep the building (and it was their second of the day) and then they were off to another school. Once the kids were released from lockdown and sent off to their classes the rumor mill began, so the teachers were instructed to let them know that they were put in lockdown to keep them out of the way, there was no danger, and this was a county-wide search and not a target at the school.
But you knew the rumor mill was going to go into high gear right away. Mrs. Language and Miss Reading asked me to come into their classes and talk to the kids about it ("Because you were in on the whole thing...") and I basically said that I wasn't telling them anything about what I saw, and if any of them heard from someone else whose locker was searched then they should consider it nothing but a lie and idle gossip because no students were out there and none of them have a clue what they are talking about. It didn't stop the kids from speculating (and amazingly, can you guess what names kept coming up? The kids who did have their lockers searched).
An unintended consequence of this whole thing? It got the kids so worked up that many of them started going to guidance and telling on kids they knew who had, in their possession, illegal substances. (Obviously, we didn't search the kids, they were in the classrooms.) By the end of the day we had expelled three for possession, sale, and use of prescription drugs. Raiding Mom and Dad's medicine cabinet has become big business for some of these kids (wonder how many of them are selling their own ADHD meds?) This is obviously a step up from a few years ago when my students were busy stealing over the counter cold medicine out of the bathroom cabinet and trying to get high off of that.
Just another one of those days that they don't prepare you for in teacher school...
So, when Mr. Enforcer told me he'd need my help around 9 on Friday morning, I got curious.
"Something interesting going to happen?" I asked. I worked with him earlier in the year when we had a big deal disaster drill with some visiting consultants, and I knew they were coming back some time so I thought that might be it.
"Maybe," he said vaguely.
"Well, I have a student teacher so if there's anything she needs to know, I'd like to prep her," I said. I've been a sub and a student teacher and there's not much worse than being in a situation where you have no clue what to do.
"We may have some visitors and we may do a lockdown," he said. "Here's a print out of the procedure so she has it handy."
I thanked him, went in to see her (the kids were at their related arts) and gave her the lowdown, or what I knew so far. If she was lucky, it would happen at nine when all she had in the room were the kids that were supposed to show up for homework clinic.
I was on my way to Mr. Enforcer's Office when I heard him come over the intercom with the lockdown message. Kids were snatched into classrooms, doors went closed, and I hustled up to the front office to see a whole slew of law enforcement vehicles out front and a lot of officers in the lobby - with dogs!
Hey, it's a great day for a locker search!
It's no secret that drugs are a huge problem in schools, even elementary schools, sad to say, and even in schools in "good" communities. I taught in a nice rural area up North and we had a huge drug problem in that community (which always kind of made me shake my head when I'd hear parents yabber about how they moved to the country to escape the big city problems.) I've seen rich kids involved, and poor kids, and there's really no common denominator outside of the fact that they made some poor choices in life and were obviously missing something somewhere. We had regular sweeps, and managed to limit a lot of the drug problem at school because the kids knew that there could be a sweep at any time. True, they took the trade off-campus, but it did put a dent in the on-campus problems.
However, in the six years I've been at The School, we've never had a drug sweep. The first superintendent I served under absolutely refused to do so as he feared it would give the public the wrong idea. Honestly, I'd love it if they did the sweeps every quarter so the kids knew, like the ones up North, that bringing the stuff to school was a risk. Sadly, however, we've seen a big spike in drug trafficking in our area, including some rather large drug busts (one of which happened on parent conference day and made me wonder if perhaps some of my parents were a bit preoccupied with being arrested..) Our current superintendent decided it would be a good idea to sweep all the high schools and middle schools and see what they could find.
Mr. Enforcer gave me a bag of locker key masters and told me to go with one of the officers and sweep the sixth grade area. I ended up with an officer from a neighboring county who had a very sweet yellow lab who was prancing around and bubbling with excitement. It was obvious that this dog loved her job. We went through the sixth grade area, checked all the lockers, and the bathrooms, and came up clean. That was good.
"So," I asked the officer as we headed back to the main part of the building, "what would your dog do if she did smell something in a locker?"
"Oh, she'd sit down in front of it, like those dogs there," he said as we rounded the corner and spied two dogs sitting down in front of some lockers right outside my classroom.
Oh dear.
I knew who these lockers belonged to, and it wasn't even a surprise that the dogs got a hit on those lockers. One of the kids is the child of parents who deal in drugs (a well-known fact in the area) and has often been named as a source in the building although we've never been able to catch him with anything. The other is a kid who I've suspected was a user simply because of his demeanor most of the time. The officers searched these lockers, and came up empty for any illegal substances.
The only other hits were apparently quite a few down in the eighth grade wing, but again, a search was conducted and nothing was found. The officer I was with said that they often take the dogs to elementary schools and let the kids pet them and often the dog will indicate the presence of drugs on one of the children - they are so sensitive to the scent they will pick it up on clothing that a kid wears in a home where the parents are users. Considering the two lockers that were checked by my room, this didn't surprise me at all.
All in all it took an hour to sweep the building (and it was their second of the day) and then they were off to another school. Once the kids were released from lockdown and sent off to their classes the rumor mill began, so the teachers were instructed to let them know that they were put in lockdown to keep them out of the way, there was no danger, and this was a county-wide search and not a target at the school.
But you knew the rumor mill was going to go into high gear right away. Mrs. Language and Miss Reading asked me to come into their classes and talk to the kids about it ("Because you were in on the whole thing...") and I basically said that I wasn't telling them anything about what I saw, and if any of them heard from someone else whose locker was searched then they should consider it nothing but a lie and idle gossip because no students were out there and none of them have a clue what they are talking about. It didn't stop the kids from speculating (and amazingly, can you guess what names kept coming up? The kids who did have their lockers searched).
An unintended consequence of this whole thing? It got the kids so worked up that many of them started going to guidance and telling on kids they knew who had, in their possession, illegal substances. (Obviously, we didn't search the kids, they were in the classrooms.) By the end of the day we had expelled three for possession, sale, and use of prescription drugs. Raiding Mom and Dad's medicine cabinet has become big business for some of these kids (wonder how many of them are selling their own ADHD meds?) This is obviously a step up from a few years ago when my students were busy stealing over the counter cold medicine out of the bathroom cabinet and trying to get high off of that.
Just another one of those days that they don't prepare you for in teacher school...
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Pinball Bounces Out
I did not have a good day today. Pinball Boy has found himself, despite my best efforts to work with him, headed towards alternative school.
I hate it when kids I adore end up going to alternative school. (Long time readers (all two of you) may remember Stoopid Boy.) It breaks my heart. However, there comes a time when it's out of my hands and, as Mr. Enforcer said, "I've got to think about the other 24 kids in the class."
We had been, I thought, making headway. Mom finally got him on some medication so the hyperactivity was under control (no more crawling on the floor and leaping through the hallways which was huge). His grades were improving. He was staying out of trouble - finally. However, January came and something happened. Instead of being the sweet, loving kid we knew, he was getting smart, surly, and argumentative. He stopped trying in school, and he told us all that the meds were out at home and he didn't know when Mom was going to get more. He was talking back and generally finding trouble anywhere he could.
This week he not only missed after school detention (which is an automatic suspension for one day) but gave two different substitute teachers fits when Miss Reading was out with the flu. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.
I was in guidance working on some grade stuff (I'm having to stay out of my room a bit so Mrs. Jayhawker, my student teacher, can teach without the kids thinking she's not in charge) when Mr. Enforcer came looking for me.
"I need your help with a hysterical kid," he said, with a pained look on his face.
"One of mine?" I asked.
"It's Pinball Boy. He's going to alternative school and he's having a melt down."
"So you want me to play mommy?" I asked.
"Exactly."
Oh good gracious. Pinball Boy was a shaking, quivering, crying, sobbing mess. It took us quite a while to get him calmed down. He begged and begged and begged for just one more chance (honestly, he's a likable kid so he's been given a lot of chances, more than most, already). I ended up spending nearly an hour with him, getting him calmed down, talking with him about the pros of alternative school (the kids usually see a huge improvement in grades so he'll pass for the year), and how if he's really, really, really good they might send him back early (hey, it's happened).
What I really wanted to know was what happened last month that caused him to cease being the kid I knew and loved and turned him into a snotty little brat who didn't care about anything. And I finally - finally - got it out of him, in amongst the tears and the wails.
"My step dad got put in jail in January and mom works all the time and I never see her and I have to take care of all the little kids and I don't see my real dad enough!"
Oh crap.
I hate it when kids I adore end up going to alternative school. (Long time readers (all two of you) may remember Stoopid Boy.) It breaks my heart. However, there comes a time when it's out of my hands and, as Mr. Enforcer said, "I've got to think about the other 24 kids in the class."
We had been, I thought, making headway. Mom finally got him on some medication so the hyperactivity was under control (no more crawling on the floor and leaping through the hallways which was huge). His grades were improving. He was staying out of trouble - finally. However, January came and something happened. Instead of being the sweet, loving kid we knew, he was getting smart, surly, and argumentative. He stopped trying in school, and he told us all that the meds were out at home and he didn't know when Mom was going to get more. He was talking back and generally finding trouble anywhere he could.
This week he not only missed after school detention (which is an automatic suspension for one day) but gave two different substitute teachers fits when Miss Reading was out with the flu. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.
I was in guidance working on some grade stuff (I'm having to stay out of my room a bit so Mrs. Jayhawker, my student teacher, can teach without the kids thinking she's not in charge) when Mr. Enforcer came looking for me.
"I need your help with a hysterical kid," he said, with a pained look on his face.
"One of mine?" I asked.
"It's Pinball Boy. He's going to alternative school and he's having a melt down."
"So you want me to play mommy?" I asked.
"Exactly."
Oh good gracious. Pinball Boy was a shaking, quivering, crying, sobbing mess. It took us quite a while to get him calmed down. He begged and begged and begged for just one more chance (honestly, he's a likable kid so he's been given a lot of chances, more than most, already). I ended up spending nearly an hour with him, getting him calmed down, talking with him about the pros of alternative school (the kids usually see a huge improvement in grades so he'll pass for the year), and how if he's really, really, really good they might send him back early (hey, it's happened).
What I really wanted to know was what happened last month that caused him to cease being the kid I knew and loved and turned him into a snotty little brat who didn't care about anything. And I finally - finally - got it out of him, in amongst the tears and the wails.
"My step dad got put in jail in January and mom works all the time and I never see her and I have to take care of all the little kids and I don't see my real dad enough!"
Oh crap.
Carnival Time!
Steve Spangler is our host this week, and it's another good one! Be sure to spend some time at his Educational Science Fair!
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Lemonade time...
The Bus Driver over at Tales of a Schoolbus Driver has bestowed upon me the “Lemonade” Award and it gave me some much needed blog love. Goodness knows, after the past two weeks I need a bit of love! Now I get to bestow it upon others!
Here are the rules:
1. You must link back to the person you received the award from.
2. You have to nominate 10 bloggers who are deserving of this award!
So, without further adieu, I hereby bestow The Lemonade Award upon:
1. Mrs. Cornelius over at A Shrewdness of Apes because she is a master at sarcasm and is one of the wittiest writers I've ever read. Her post a few years ago that was an open letter to idiot parents (something about using the UPS store as an address), was classic.
2. Cupcake over at A Truth Universally Acknowledged because she's an Austen fan (duh) as well and her descriptions of her geniuses leave me in stitches.
3. Chanman over at Buckhorn Road for reminding me, yet again, why I'm glad I don't live in California anymore.
4. Vegas Art Guy at The Desert Glows Green because I'm astounded at how much energy this guy has - does he ever sleep?
5. Elementary History Teacher over at History is Elementary because I totally borrowed her study guide idea (and it's rocking!) and because I can learn more reading her blog than I ever thought possible.
6. Happy Chyck over at Happy Chyck Wonders because I get depressed if she doesn't post much. She's just wonderful. And she edits yearbooks. Bless her.
7. Mrs. T. over at La Cucheria because she's another one I miss when she doesn't post much, she's funny, and I've found a lot of other good blogs through her recommendations.
8. Mr. Teacher over at Learn Me Good because his book rocks (buy it!) and because he's brave enough to teach 3rd grade, bless his little Darth Vader heart.
9. Princess Lionhead over at Princess Lionhead's Den because she's actually one of the few bloggers I've worked with in real life - she's a good friend and I miss her!
10. Secrets of a Middle School Secretary - she hasn't posted for a while, but when she does she reminds me of how much of the craziness the school secretaries keep at bay so we can do our jobs.
You are all wonderful!
Here are the rules:
1. You must link back to the person you received the award from.
2. You have to nominate 10 bloggers who are deserving of this award!
So, without further adieu, I hereby bestow The Lemonade Award upon:
1. Mrs. Cornelius over at A Shrewdness of Apes because she is a master at sarcasm and is one of the wittiest writers I've ever read. Her post a few years ago that was an open letter to idiot parents (something about using the UPS store as an address), was classic.
2. Cupcake over at A Truth Universally Acknowledged because she's an Austen fan (duh) as well and her descriptions of her geniuses leave me in stitches.
3. Chanman over at Buckhorn Road for reminding me, yet again, why I'm glad I don't live in California anymore.
4. Vegas Art Guy at The Desert Glows Green because I'm astounded at how much energy this guy has - does he ever sleep?
5. Elementary History Teacher over at History is Elementary because I totally borrowed her study guide idea (and it's rocking!) and because I can learn more reading her blog than I ever thought possible.
6. Happy Chyck over at Happy Chyck Wonders because I get depressed if she doesn't post much. She's just wonderful. And she edits yearbooks. Bless her.
7. Mrs. T. over at La Cucheria because she's another one I miss when she doesn't post much, she's funny, and I've found a lot of other good blogs through her recommendations.
8. Mr. Teacher over at Learn Me Good because his book rocks (buy it!) and because he's brave enough to teach 3rd grade, bless his little Darth Vader heart.
9. Princess Lionhead over at Princess Lionhead's Den because she's actually one of the few bloggers I've worked with in real life - she's a good friend and I miss her!
10. Secrets of a Middle School Secretary - she hasn't posted for a while, but when she does she reminds me of how much of the craziness the school secretaries keep at bay so we can do our jobs.
You are all wonderful!
Monday, February 02, 2009
Busted!
I have a student teacher, Mrs. Jayhawker (she's from Kansas) who is doing fantastic. I met her for the first time last year when she did an observation with Mrs. Eagle, and I was tickled to find out she'd do the first part of her student teaching with me. She's a Mom, has two middle school kids of her own, has subbed and has a lot more maturity and with-it-ness than some of the twenty-sometimes that come through my room during observations.
And she busted some cheaters.
We had our unit test on Friday, so I had Mrs. Jayhawker take them home and grade them over the weekend, while I took home the writing prompts and graded those. I figured the experience would be good for her. I got an email over the weekend telling me she suspected four girls (who all sit at the same table)of cheating as they all had identical answers (word for word) on their essay questions. In addition, two of the girls, who rarely pass a test on a good day, not only passed, but got A's!
This morning she showed me the tests and it was pretty obvious that there was some cheating involved. The same answers, the same misspellings, and my favorite, a couple of "floating" letters on the edge of the test where it looked as if someone asked for an answer, and another one of the girls had written it down for them.
Oh boy.
The worst thing is that these are good kids. Three of them were invited on our camping field trip for this spring (and have paid the nonrefundable deposit). Two of them should be regulars on the A/B honor roll. One is a basketball player whose mother manages the cafeteria.
To say I was disappointed (and let's be honest, a bit pissed off) was an understatement. Mrs. Social Studies and Ms. Language both looked at the tests and were just as upset as I was. So, we pulled the girls into my room before they went off to first period and see if they would come clean.
I started off asking them if they ever noticed the big "Make Good Choices" slide I have on my daily PowerPoint agenda. That's my mantra with these kids. I then asked them if any of them wanted to talk about the fact that they may not have made a good choice on Friday.
Silence. Serious, scared faces.
Mrs. Language gave them her mean face. Mrs. Social Studies shook her head in disgust. Mrs. Jayhawker took notes (I'm sure this was her "critical incident" she had to write about this week). The girls sat there.
We talked about how disappointed we were, how it was obvious something unusual had happened, how we were dismayed that they felt they had to stoop to cheating, how it takes at least two to cheat - one to copy and the other to let the copying happen.
Silence. Tears starting to flow for two of them.
I read the paragraph in the code of conduct that basically said I could write a discipline referral and they'd probably get detention or ISS or something. I opted, however, not to do that. Instead, I gave them lunch detention, they were having their seats changed, and they were taking the test again this afternoon.
And then Mrs. Language casually mentioned that we may not be able to take them camping as they've violated our trust. As a team we'd have to discuss it.
Silence and more tears.
I sent them on to their classes and Mrs. Social Studies said she was sure she could get one of the girls to confess. She did. She informed her that all four of them were engaged in the cheating.
When they showed up for lunch detention, they were a quiet, sober bunch. Part of the lunch detention ritual is that students have to write and sign a statement about why they were in detention and what they could do next time to stay out of detention. All of them admitted to the cheating and said they'd never do it again. They apologized. They groveled. It was obvious that the threat of getting kicked out of the camping trip made an impression.
During detention the basketball coach came in, saw her player's statement, shook her head and walked away in disgust. Player girl put her head down on her desk - in the meantime, her mother had emailed me back and said she'd support anything we wanted to do in terms of punishment, but did want us to know that she's grounded - no tv, cell phone, computer, etc. for an indefinite period of time.
They took their retakes sixth period. The results were as expected...one passed (the one the cheated off of) and the others bombed.
Figures.
And she busted some cheaters.
We had our unit test on Friday, so I had Mrs. Jayhawker take them home and grade them over the weekend, while I took home the writing prompts and graded those. I figured the experience would be good for her. I got an email over the weekend telling me she suspected four girls (who all sit at the same table)of cheating as they all had identical answers (word for word) on their essay questions. In addition, two of the girls, who rarely pass a test on a good day, not only passed, but got A's!
This morning she showed me the tests and it was pretty obvious that there was some cheating involved. The same answers, the same misspellings, and my favorite, a couple of "floating" letters on the edge of the test where it looked as if someone asked for an answer, and another one of the girls had written it down for them.
Oh boy.
The worst thing is that these are good kids. Three of them were invited on our camping field trip for this spring (and have paid the nonrefundable deposit). Two of them should be regulars on the A/B honor roll. One is a basketball player whose mother manages the cafeteria.
To say I was disappointed (and let's be honest, a bit pissed off) was an understatement. Mrs. Social Studies and Ms. Language both looked at the tests and were just as upset as I was. So, we pulled the girls into my room before they went off to first period and see if they would come clean.
I started off asking them if they ever noticed the big "Make Good Choices" slide I have on my daily PowerPoint agenda. That's my mantra with these kids. I then asked them if any of them wanted to talk about the fact that they may not have made a good choice on Friday.
Silence. Serious, scared faces.
Mrs. Language gave them her mean face. Mrs. Social Studies shook her head in disgust. Mrs. Jayhawker took notes (I'm sure this was her "critical incident" she had to write about this week). The girls sat there.
We talked about how disappointed we were, how it was obvious something unusual had happened, how we were dismayed that they felt they had to stoop to cheating, how it takes at least two to cheat - one to copy and the other to let the copying happen.
Silence. Tears starting to flow for two of them.
I read the paragraph in the code of conduct that basically said I could write a discipline referral and they'd probably get detention or ISS or something. I opted, however, not to do that. Instead, I gave them lunch detention, they were having their seats changed, and they were taking the test again this afternoon.
And then Mrs. Language casually mentioned that we may not be able to take them camping as they've violated our trust. As a team we'd have to discuss it.
Silence and more tears.
I sent them on to their classes and Mrs. Social Studies said she was sure she could get one of the girls to confess. She did. She informed her that all four of them were engaged in the cheating.
When they showed up for lunch detention, they were a quiet, sober bunch. Part of the lunch detention ritual is that students have to write and sign a statement about why they were in detention and what they could do next time to stay out of detention. All of them admitted to the cheating and said they'd never do it again. They apologized. They groveled. It was obvious that the threat of getting kicked out of the camping trip made an impression.
During detention the basketball coach came in, saw her player's statement, shook her head and walked away in disgust. Player girl put her head down on her desk - in the meantime, her mother had emailed me back and said she'd support anything we wanted to do in terms of punishment, but did want us to know that she's grounded - no tv, cell phone, computer, etc. for an indefinite period of time.
They took their retakes sixth period. The results were as expected...one passed (the one the cheated off of) and the others bombed.
Figures.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Big 'Ol Goose Egg
We had parent conferences tonight from 4:30 to 7:30 pm.
The conferences are open to any parent who chooses to come, plus we were encouraged to invite those parents we really need to see. Guidance had sent out failure letters a few weeks ago to 17 of our lovelies - which were supposed to be signed by a parent and returned, however, none have been - so we decided we would send a special invitation to these seventeen parents, plus a few others with kids who are borderline.
So, we reprinted the failure letters, attached an invitation asking them to come to the conference so we could figure out how to help their child, and stapled these into the kids' agendas.
Any guesses on how many parents The Team saw tonight?
Zero.
Nada.
Not. A. Single. Freaking. Parent.
I'm going to go bang my head against a wall.
The conferences are open to any parent who chooses to come, plus we were encouraged to invite those parents we really need to see. Guidance had sent out failure letters a few weeks ago to 17 of our lovelies - which were supposed to be signed by a parent and returned, however, none have been - so we decided we would send a special invitation to these seventeen parents, plus a few others with kids who are borderline.
So, we reprinted the failure letters, attached an invitation asking them to come to the conference so we could figure out how to help their child, and stapled these into the kids' agendas.
Any guesses on how many parents The Team saw tonight?
Zero.
Nada.
Not. A. Single. Freaking. Parent.
I'm going to go bang my head against a wall.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Carnival Time!
Sitting at home due to bad weather? Suffering the January blahs? Well, take a break and enjoy this week's Carnival of Education, hosted by The Reading Workshop!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Germ Factories and Sound of Ice
Monday morning found Mrs. Social Studies crawling into class, unable to hear out of her left ear, her right ear wasn't much better, and her face was tingling. We found a sub and she went to the doctor and was diagnosed with a double ear infection. Before she left, she said it was weird not being able to hear anything the students were saying. In some cases, it might be considered a blessing.
Mrs. Social Studies was not alone. All three administrators are sick, with The Principal croaking her way through morning announcements as she's the only one with a voice. A whole slew of teachers were out with the flu and just about every other contagion available. And I had what I thought was perhaps strep throat (were talking pain, here) but the test came back negative and was diagnosed as a weird throat virus that's going around. Oh yippee. So it was ibuprofen, salt water gargles, cough drops, rest, and oh yeah, try not to talk.
They were calling for a Really Bad Winter Weather Event to hit our area, so we were all hoping for a snow day today. Honestly, with the number of kids sniffling and croaking in class and along with the amount of teachers that were sick as well, a snow day would have been a blessing.
Except it wasn't snow. It was ice.
When the alarm went off at 5:00, I checked the temperature (31 degrees) and looked outside. It was raining and everything was shining with a glaze of ice. The local news reported that school was closed, which was pretty much a no-brainer. Most of the counties in this part of the state closed due to ice.
Since I have trouble going back to sleep once I'm awake, I sort of lazed around a bit, watched the kitties wrestle and chase each other, and prayed we wouldn't lose power.
Mrs. Eagle called a few hours later to find out what I was doing.
"Just reading. Drinking hot liquids that make my throat feel better. You?"
"I've been up since 2:30 am," she said.
"Why on earth?" I asked her. Mrs. Eagle, like me, can be a light sleeper.
"That's when all the tree branches around the house started to snap. It sounded like shotgun blasts all night long. I kept wondering if one was going to come crashing through the roof," she said.
She had power still, which is a plus. According to the local news, there's quite a few places in the county that don't have any power and may not get any anytime soon. They are calling for more ice and snow tonight, and more power outages, so hubby and I have been collecting gear just in case - candles, the little portable generator, my Civil War reenacting cooking gear, the little BBQ, and briquettes. We figure if the power goes out and lasts more than a day or so, we can at least cook something hot to eat in the BBQ on the driveway. I used to do a lot of camping and cooking over open fires, so that skill may come in handy yet again. As long as I can make myself a hot cup of coffee, I'll be fine. Even if I have to make it in the rain and snow in my driveway.
As for school tomorrow? Who knows? We have parent teacher conferences scheduled for Thursday. Past experience points to the fact that the parents won't come out unless the weather is clear and dry. We may end up sitting there playing cards all night waiting for parents to show up.
That is if we even have school by then.
Mrs. Social Studies was not alone. All three administrators are sick, with The Principal croaking her way through morning announcements as she's the only one with a voice. A whole slew of teachers were out with the flu and just about every other contagion available. And I had what I thought was perhaps strep throat (were talking pain, here) but the test came back negative and was diagnosed as a weird throat virus that's going around. Oh yippee. So it was ibuprofen, salt water gargles, cough drops, rest, and oh yeah, try not to talk.
They were calling for a Really Bad Winter Weather Event to hit our area, so we were all hoping for a snow day today. Honestly, with the number of kids sniffling and croaking in class and along with the amount of teachers that were sick as well, a snow day would have been a blessing.
Except it wasn't snow. It was ice.
When the alarm went off at 5:00, I checked the temperature (31 degrees) and looked outside. It was raining and everything was shining with a glaze of ice. The local news reported that school was closed, which was pretty much a no-brainer. Most of the counties in this part of the state closed due to ice.
Since I have trouble going back to sleep once I'm awake, I sort of lazed around a bit, watched the kitties wrestle and chase each other, and prayed we wouldn't lose power.
Mrs. Eagle called a few hours later to find out what I was doing.
"Just reading. Drinking hot liquids that make my throat feel better. You?"
"I've been up since 2:30 am," she said.
"Why on earth?" I asked her. Mrs. Eagle, like me, can be a light sleeper.
"That's when all the tree branches around the house started to snap. It sounded like shotgun blasts all night long. I kept wondering if one was going to come crashing through the roof," she said.
She had power still, which is a plus. According to the local news, there's quite a few places in the county that don't have any power and may not get any anytime soon. They are calling for more ice and snow tonight, and more power outages, so hubby and I have been collecting gear just in case - candles, the little portable generator, my Civil War reenacting cooking gear, the little BBQ, and briquettes. We figure if the power goes out and lasts more than a day or so, we can at least cook something hot to eat in the BBQ on the driveway. I used to do a lot of camping and cooking over open fires, so that skill may come in handy yet again. As long as I can make myself a hot cup of coffee, I'll be fine. Even if I have to make it in the rain and snow in my driveway.
As for school tomorrow? Who knows? We have parent teacher conferences scheduled for Thursday. Past experience points to the fact that the parents won't come out unless the weather is clear and dry. We may end up sitting there playing cards all night waiting for parents to show up.
That is if we even have school by then.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Why I Have Really Grey Hair
I started going grey at 18, but I swear, the amount of grey has just exploded with this year's crop of seventh graders. I'll be solid silver by the time May hits.
Today we the last of our five benchmark days, and it was science. The kids hate benchmarks. They know they don't count towards their grades (although we put the score on PowerSchool so mom and dad could see it, should they care). They don't like that it messes up their routine. And they see it as a huge waste of time. Frankly, they really hate standardized tests of any kind.
I've been hearing the rest of the team moaning and freaking out over their scores which were just awful. It seemed they got lower as the week went by. So, when I went and scanned them this morning to see how they did, I wasn't expecting great things.
The good news? I had one proficient on the last benchmark. This time I had eight.
This is still, to me, unacceptable.
Mrs. Duck, Mrs. Eagle and I all had similar scores. Mrs. Eagle and I have never had scores this low in the three years we've been doing benchmarks. Ever. (Mrs. Duck is new to our school so she doesn't have any scores to compare.)
So I had a bit of a Come To Jesus meeting with these kids, especially since they couldn't wait to get their scores. They were sure they did fantastic.
I hated to burst their bubble, but burst it I did.
It was an interesting conversation. I laid it all there for them. Told them their scores were the lowest I've seen - and I knew they could do better (especially my advanced kids). Told them what they did well on (Mitosis) and what was weak (Cell organelles - this killed them as we spent weeks on this). Told them that last year the seventh grade overall had a 90% homework turn in percentage. This year? We're at 50%. I reminded them that they're only a year and a half away from high school - where there's no second chances, no late work, no passing unless you earn it.
They were pretty honest. They admitted to never studying their vocabulary words, not doing homework, not trying their best. They admitted, for the most part, that they don't like failure, but weren't motivated enough to really do much about it.
So I asked them what motivated them, what would get them to turn on the jets and start performing at the level I know they can.
The answer? There wasn't one. They couldn't really come up with anything that motivated them.
I find this tragic. And frustrating beyond belief.
Today we the last of our five benchmark days, and it was science. The kids hate benchmarks. They know they don't count towards their grades (although we put the score on PowerSchool so mom and dad could see it, should they care). They don't like that it messes up their routine. And they see it as a huge waste of time. Frankly, they really hate standardized tests of any kind.
I've been hearing the rest of the team moaning and freaking out over their scores which were just awful. It seemed they got lower as the week went by. So, when I went and scanned them this morning to see how they did, I wasn't expecting great things.
The good news? I had one proficient on the last benchmark. This time I had eight.
This is still, to me, unacceptable.
Mrs. Duck, Mrs. Eagle and I all had similar scores. Mrs. Eagle and I have never had scores this low in the three years we've been doing benchmarks. Ever. (Mrs. Duck is new to our school so she doesn't have any scores to compare.)
So I had a bit of a Come To Jesus meeting with these kids, especially since they couldn't wait to get their scores. They were sure they did fantastic.
I hated to burst their bubble, but burst it I did.
It was an interesting conversation. I laid it all there for them. Told them their scores were the lowest I've seen - and I knew they could do better (especially my advanced kids). Told them what they did well on (Mitosis) and what was weak (Cell organelles - this killed them as we spent weeks on this). Told them that last year the seventh grade overall had a 90% homework turn in percentage. This year? We're at 50%. I reminded them that they're only a year and a half away from high school - where there's no second chances, no late work, no passing unless you earn it.
They were pretty honest. They admitted to never studying their vocabulary words, not doing homework, not trying their best. They admitted, for the most part, that they don't like failure, but weren't motivated enough to really do much about it.
So I asked them what motivated them, what would get them to turn on the jets and start performing at the level I know they can.
The answer? There wasn't one. They couldn't really come up with anything that motivated them.
I find this tragic. And frustrating beyond belief.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
The Year of the Coma
Team leaders (such as moi) got an email from Guidance Goober with a link to PDF files of all the failure letters that The School sent out this week. If a student is failing two or more classes, a letter went home explaining the possibility of retention (which will rarely happen), summer school, non-academic promotions and so forth. The letters are to be signed and returned to the homeroom teachers, so that we know that the parents actually saw the letter and Junior didn't get home and destroy the mail before the parents came home.
Out of 103 letters that went out, any guesses on how many belonged to seventh graders?
Ah, come on...just guess...you know you want to.
How about 52?
Yup. Fifty-freakin'-two.
Mrs. Eagle's team had the winning number of 22. My team had 17 and the balance belonged to Mrs. Bunny's team.
Are we surprised? No.
Disappointed. Of course.
Seventh graders, as a rule, seem to go into a coma during the school year. From the recent brain studies I've seen on adolescent brains, there's actually hard science to back this up. It's called puberty, to be blunt. The body is putting so much energy into growth and hormones and all that makes this age group so annoying, and the brain pretty much flat lines for about, say, nine months to a year. We're lucky they don't actually lose cognitive skills. I'm surprised most of them are alert enough to cross the street without getting hit by a car.
If I had a dollar for every kid that failed my class as a seventh grader, then moved on to 8th grade and passed with A's and B's and then ended up - yes! - in honors science classes in high school, I could perhaps buy myself a nice new pair of Danskos. It's depressing.
That's seventh grade - the Year of the Coma.
Out of 103 letters that went out, any guesses on how many belonged to seventh graders?
Ah, come on...just guess...you know you want to.
How about 52?
Yup. Fifty-freakin'-two.
Mrs. Eagle's team had the winning number of 22. My team had 17 and the balance belonged to Mrs. Bunny's team.
Are we surprised? No.
Disappointed. Of course.
Seventh graders, as a rule, seem to go into a coma during the school year. From the recent brain studies I've seen on adolescent brains, there's actually hard science to back this up. It's called puberty, to be blunt. The body is putting so much energy into growth and hormones and all that makes this age group so annoying, and the brain pretty much flat lines for about, say, nine months to a year. We're lucky they don't actually lose cognitive skills. I'm surprised most of them are alert enough to cross the street without getting hit by a car.
If I had a dollar for every kid that failed my class as a seventh grader, then moved on to 8th grade and passed with A's and B's and then ended up - yes! - in honors science classes in high school, I could perhaps buy myself a nice new pair of Danskos. It's depressing.
That's seventh grade - the Year of the Coma.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Carnival Time!
BRRRR! It's cold out there, so hope on over to this week's Education Carnival at Education Examiner! Check it out - lots of good stuff there!
A Classic Question
From a phone message left for Mrs. Strawberry, the social studies teacher on Mrs. Eagle's team, after report cards went home on Tuesday:
"Hum, this is ________. I was just calling to see if you were the one who whited out my daughter's grades on her report card, or if she did it. Thanks!"
When Mrs. Strawberry called this mom back (after picking herself up off the floor from her laughing spasm) Mom explained that she pretty much knew who whited out not only this nine week's grades, but the grades from the last nine weeks, and the comments as well. She just wanted confirmation.
Hey, at least she got a phone call. No one on my team did.
"Hum, this is ________. I was just calling to see if you were the one who whited out my daughter's grades on her report card, or if she did it. Thanks!"
When Mrs. Strawberry called this mom back (after picking herself up off the floor from her laughing spasm) Mom explained that she pretty much knew who whited out not only this nine week's grades, but the grades from the last nine weeks, and the comments as well. She just wanted confirmation.
Hey, at least she got a phone call. No one on my team did.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
What a Little Bit of Relevance Will Do...
As I've mentioned before, our standards are changing next year. One of the grades getting worked over the most - SURPRISE! - is seventh grade science. We're losing about half our curriculum (matter and weather) to 6th and 8th grade, and we're inheriting new curriculum (DNA, genetics, geology, simple machines) from the 8th grade.
Peachy.
So, since the current 7th graders will get about nine weeks of matter - again - next year, and will miss DNA, genetics, geology, and simple machines, we're trying to cram some of this stuff in where we can so they don't hit high school without having been exposed to this stuff. (Of course they currently hit high school having forgotten nearly everything they learned in middle school so in some cases, it's a moot point.)
Since we're wrapping up the cell cycle, it was decided that this would be a good time to do a brief unit on DNA and genetics. Mrs. Eagle and Mrs. Duck have never taught this curriculum and it's been 8 years since I have, so we are, shall I say, a bit rusty.
Our book is void of any information on DNA outside of the fact that it's in a cell, so we've had to come up with ways to present this information to our kids. Fortunately, Mrs. Eagle and I went to a publisher's dog and pony show in December and got a whole bunch of free goodies that we're sort of test driving with this group of kids. (I'll be honest, I'm liking these materials.)
The past few days we've done Brainpops as introductions, and then moved on to some PowerPoints that we adapted from the sample materials. Since it's a lot of material to cover (and not much time due to benchmark testing - don't get me started) we are doing guided notes so the kids get the information down, and it's accurate.
I'll be honest. I love genetics. It's cool stuff. And it doesn't really get much more relevant for a kid than they realize how and why they ended up looking like they do, and how they go their nose from mom and their eye color from dad, and so on. It's neat. And you can talk about cool things like mutations (a good time to bring out the story of the Scottish Fold cats), and how diseases are passed on and just really cool stuff like careers and genetic engineering and, well, it's fun. Even if all you're doing is showing a PowerPoint and the kids are taking notes.
So here we are, the end of seventh period, and we've blasted through our notes and the bell has rung and two of my critters, Huggy Girl and Shy Boy come up to my desk.
"Shy Boy and I have decided that we'd rather stay in your class all day and learn about genetics than go to any of our other classes," said Huggy Girl. Shy Boy nods in agreement.
"Really?" I say. This is a surprise because these kids are not, not, not, A students - they're C, maybe, if they try, so this is something.
"Yeah, this was totally fun," says Huggy Girl. "We can't wait until tomorrow." More nods from Shy Boy.
Wow. I was stunned.
How often do you get a review like that?
Peachy.
So, since the current 7th graders will get about nine weeks of matter - again - next year, and will miss DNA, genetics, geology, and simple machines, we're trying to cram some of this stuff in where we can so they don't hit high school without having been exposed to this stuff. (Of course they currently hit high school having forgotten nearly everything they learned in middle school so in some cases, it's a moot point.)
Since we're wrapping up the cell cycle, it was decided that this would be a good time to do a brief unit on DNA and genetics. Mrs. Eagle and Mrs. Duck have never taught this curriculum and it's been 8 years since I have, so we are, shall I say, a bit rusty.
Our book is void of any information on DNA outside of the fact that it's in a cell, so we've had to come up with ways to present this information to our kids. Fortunately, Mrs. Eagle and I went to a publisher's dog and pony show in December and got a whole bunch of free goodies that we're sort of test driving with this group of kids. (I'll be honest, I'm liking these materials.)
The past few days we've done Brainpops as introductions, and then moved on to some PowerPoints that we adapted from the sample materials. Since it's a lot of material to cover (and not much time due to benchmark testing - don't get me started) we are doing guided notes so the kids get the information down, and it's accurate.
I'll be honest. I love genetics. It's cool stuff. And it doesn't really get much more relevant for a kid than they realize how and why they ended up looking like they do, and how they go their nose from mom and their eye color from dad, and so on. It's neat. And you can talk about cool things like mutations (a good time to bring out the story of the Scottish Fold cats), and how diseases are passed on and just really cool stuff like careers and genetic engineering and, well, it's fun. Even if all you're doing is showing a PowerPoint and the kids are taking notes.
So here we are, the end of seventh period, and we've blasted through our notes and the bell has rung and two of my critters, Huggy Girl and Shy Boy come up to my desk.
"Shy Boy and I have decided that we'd rather stay in your class all day and learn about genetics than go to any of our other classes," said Huggy Girl. Shy Boy nods in agreement.
"Really?" I say. This is a surprise because these kids are not, not, not, A students - they're C, maybe, if they try, so this is something.
"Yeah, this was totally fun," says Huggy Girl. "We can't wait until tomorrow." More nods from Shy Boy.
Wow. I was stunned.
How often do you get a review like that?
Friday, January 09, 2009
Here, there and everywhere?
Bully Boy, we think, is gone.
Bully Boy, of course, was in my Fifth Period From the Very Depths of Hell itself, and he was a piece of work. He could slam a kid into a locker right in front of three teachers and an administrator than deny that he ever did such a thing. It didn't matter that there were witnesses (and often times video)of his stunts, he never did anything wrong, it was everyone else's fault, and the world was picking on him. He threw things constantly and spent a great deal of time up in ISS. The ISS Teacher, who has the patience of a Saint and loves these kids like no other, could hardly stand him. He was rude, mean, had no work ethic, and basically was going no where but down-hill fast.
Of course, if you knew his story, it all made sense.
Bully Boy, when he showed up in August, wasn't even living with a biological family member. He was living with his mother's best friend who also happened to be his godmother. This woman, bless her heart, was trying to do the right thing for a kid who probably never appreciated a single thing she did for him - buying him a television, games, nice clothes, and keeping a roof over his head and food in his belly. His parents both have serious drug habits and spend a lot of time in and out of jail. Any money they may have go towards drugs so there's times Bully Boy went hungry when he was living with a parent. His dad, according to godmother, is a bully himself and most likely abusive. His lying and bullying are most likely survival techniques he's learned living in the conditions he's lived in.
He had, in short, been bounced from relative to relative and now to a family friend all his life.
He wasn't in school on Tuesday and when I sent out an email to my parent contacts with the new study guide, I got an email back from his godmother's mother (who works for the district and would print out the emails and give to her daughter who didn't have email), asking me to take her off the email list as Bully Boy was no longer living with her daughter.
Hum. Interesting. I didn't pursue it for a few days because for all I knew, Bully Boy was still in our zone. However, today, curiosity got the best of me and I emailed godmother's mother back and asked if she knew what was going on as we hadn't heard anyone and Bully Boy was a no show.
Oh boy, did I get an earful. Apparently her daughter had to take a job in another part of the state and decided she couldn't take him with her. Part of her decision was she was probably just worn down with the effort of trying to help him pass 7th grade, and the other was the parents decided they wanted him back (they are both apparently out of jail). In the three weeks since we left for break, Bully Boy has lived with his father, then moved in with his mother, then lived with a grandmother, and now is back with his mother in another city nearby.
She hasn't bothered to even try to enroll him in school as no one has called to get his records.
As godmother's mother said, "I've known this family for years and they are nothing but a nightmare."
No kidding.
So right now, who knows where this kid really is, who he's really living with, and how long it will last.
Any bets on whether he'll graduate from high school? Or even make it to high school?
And whose fault will that be??? It should be the parents' but we all know that the government will blame the teachers, the schools, the administrators.
I feel like the government's scapegoat.
Bully Boy, of course, was in my Fifth Period From the Very Depths of Hell itself, and he was a piece of work. He could slam a kid into a locker right in front of three teachers and an administrator than deny that he ever did such a thing. It didn't matter that there were witnesses (and often times video)of his stunts, he never did anything wrong, it was everyone else's fault, and the world was picking on him. He threw things constantly and spent a great deal of time up in ISS. The ISS Teacher, who has the patience of a Saint and loves these kids like no other, could hardly stand him. He was rude, mean, had no work ethic, and basically was going no where but down-hill fast.
Of course, if you knew his story, it all made sense.
Bully Boy, when he showed up in August, wasn't even living with a biological family member. He was living with his mother's best friend who also happened to be his godmother. This woman, bless her heart, was trying to do the right thing for a kid who probably never appreciated a single thing she did for him - buying him a television, games, nice clothes, and keeping a roof over his head and food in his belly. His parents both have serious drug habits and spend a lot of time in and out of jail. Any money they may have go towards drugs so there's times Bully Boy went hungry when he was living with a parent. His dad, according to godmother, is a bully himself and most likely abusive. His lying and bullying are most likely survival techniques he's learned living in the conditions he's lived in.
He had, in short, been bounced from relative to relative and now to a family friend all his life.
He wasn't in school on Tuesday and when I sent out an email to my parent contacts with the new study guide, I got an email back from his godmother's mother (who works for the district and would print out the emails and give to her daughter who didn't have email), asking me to take her off the email list as Bully Boy was no longer living with her daughter.
Hum. Interesting. I didn't pursue it for a few days because for all I knew, Bully Boy was still in our zone. However, today, curiosity got the best of me and I emailed godmother's mother back and asked if she knew what was going on as we hadn't heard anyone and Bully Boy was a no show.
Oh boy, did I get an earful. Apparently her daughter had to take a job in another part of the state and decided she couldn't take him with her. Part of her decision was she was probably just worn down with the effort of trying to help him pass 7th grade, and the other was the parents decided they wanted him back (they are both apparently out of jail). In the three weeks since we left for break, Bully Boy has lived with his father, then moved in with his mother, then lived with a grandmother, and now is back with his mother in another city nearby.
She hasn't bothered to even try to enroll him in school as no one has called to get his records.
As godmother's mother said, "I've known this family for years and they are nothing but a nightmare."
No kidding.
So right now, who knows where this kid really is, who he's really living with, and how long it will last.
Any bets on whether he'll graduate from high school? Or even make it to high school?
And whose fault will that be??? It should be the parents' but we all know that the government will blame the teachers, the schools, the administrators.
I feel like the government's scapegoat.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
All I Want is a Good Night's Sleep
I never seem to get enough sleep. This isn't anything new. There's just never enough hours in the day to do all the things I need - and want - to do. There's school, but after that, there's the gym, the errands that need to be run (allergy shots, the market, trips to the post office, the chiropractor, etc), then on home for supper which I make, we eat, and I clean up. Then laundry, checking email (and hopefully blogging) and grading papers and cleaning house and on and on and on. If I'm lucky I can get some reading in and some knitting as well.
And I don't even have my own kids, or it would be worse.
One of my students today said he was doing a survey of what video game system each of his teachers owned and wanted to know which one I had.
"None," I said. "We don't have one."
The whole class gasped in shock. What? Someone without a video game system?
"Really? Not one?"
"Not one," I replied.
"What do you do?" he asked again. The kids all looked at me, wide-eyed. Really? What does one do without video games?
"Oh, I run errands. I cook dinner. I do laundry, I play with my cats, I talk with my husband, I read (this brought some looks of sheer horror to some of their faces), I watch movies, or the news, or History Channel, I knit, I do all sorts of things."
And as I said this, I realized that if I didn't have so darn much to do, it would, just maybe, be possible to get something like eight hours' sleep at night. A video game system would just cut into precious sleep time.
And I need my sleep time.
It seems that most of The Team, as well as most of the other Seventh Grade Teachers are suffering from sleep deprivation this week. Part of it is coming back off two glorious weeks where we could, for the most part, sleep all we want. I celebrated by taking naps on the couch with a warm cat or two for company. It was delightful. However, now we're back here at school, with most of us getting up at 5:00 am or so, and our minds are now fully engaged with all the drama and pathos that is Middle School.
Which is why, we discovered, most of us are waking up in the middle of the night and find that we can't go back to sleep.
For the past three nights I've awakened around 2:30 or 3:00 am and found that I can't go back to sleep. My mind just won't shut off. I try not to think of anything outside of pleasant sleepy thoughts, but my mind drifts off to thinking about an upcoming lesson, how we're going to handle our homework slackers this semester, things I need to do for a team meeting, and on and on.
And I'm still awake when the alarm goes off.
Sigh.
When is spring break?
And I don't even have my own kids, or it would be worse.
One of my students today said he was doing a survey of what video game system each of his teachers owned and wanted to know which one I had.
"None," I said. "We don't have one."
The whole class gasped in shock. What? Someone without a video game system?
"Really? Not one?"
"Not one," I replied.
"What do you do?" he asked again. The kids all looked at me, wide-eyed. Really? What does one do without video games?
"Oh, I run errands. I cook dinner. I do laundry, I play with my cats, I talk with my husband, I read (this brought some looks of sheer horror to some of their faces), I watch movies, or the news, or History Channel, I knit, I do all sorts of things."
And as I said this, I realized that if I didn't have so darn much to do, it would, just maybe, be possible to get something like eight hours' sleep at night. A video game system would just cut into precious sleep time.
And I need my sleep time.
It seems that most of The Team, as well as most of the other Seventh Grade Teachers are suffering from sleep deprivation this week. Part of it is coming back off two glorious weeks where we could, for the most part, sleep all we want. I celebrated by taking naps on the couch with a warm cat or two for company. It was delightful. However, now we're back here at school, with most of us getting up at 5:00 am or so, and our minds are now fully engaged with all the drama and pathos that is Middle School.
Which is why, we discovered, most of us are waking up in the middle of the night and find that we can't go back to sleep.
For the past three nights I've awakened around 2:30 or 3:00 am and found that I can't go back to sleep. My mind just won't shut off. I try not to think of anything outside of pleasant sleepy thoughts, but my mind drifts off to thinking about an upcoming lesson, how we're going to handle our homework slackers this semester, things I need to do for a team meeting, and on and on.
And I'm still awake when the alarm goes off.
Sigh.
When is spring break?
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
What are they feeding these kids?
The chickadees rolled back in today. It was pretty typical. They were excited and gabby - after all they hadn't seen each other for two whole weeks - and about six of them couldn't remember their locker combinations. Nothing out of the ordinary with that chain of events.
However.
Am I the only one who is astounded - just astounded - that you can actually notice a growth spurt in a kid in a two week time period???
Honestly, Pinball Boy is now my height! He wasn't my height on the last day of school before break, but today I could stand there and look him in the eye. It freaked me out so bad, I called Mrs. Social Studies over (she, like me, is not exactly tall).
"Is it me, or has Pinball Boy grown?" I asked her as Pinball Boy stood there and giggled and smiled, loving the attention.
She looked him up and down, and her eyes widened. "Oh my gosh, he is taller! What on earth did your momma feed you during break!?"
Pinball grinned and giggled some more and said she fed him lots of good stuff.
Well, it's working. That kid took a leap in height, and he wasn't the only one. Another of my homeroom kids, who was a frail tiny thing two weeks ago, had to have added on an inch, as well as some weight, during break. Amazing.
Of course I added to my frame as well, but it was all in my butt and my stomach. Such is life. It's back to Weight Watchers and the gym.
However.
Am I the only one who is astounded - just astounded - that you can actually notice a growth spurt in a kid in a two week time period???
Honestly, Pinball Boy is now my height! He wasn't my height on the last day of school before break, but today I could stand there and look him in the eye. It freaked me out so bad, I called Mrs. Social Studies over (she, like me, is not exactly tall).
"Is it me, or has Pinball Boy grown?" I asked her as Pinball Boy stood there and giggled and smiled, loving the attention.
She looked him up and down, and her eyes widened. "Oh my gosh, he is taller! What on earth did your momma feed you during break!?"
Pinball grinned and giggled some more and said she fed him lots of good stuff.
Well, it's working. That kid took a leap in height, and he wasn't the only one. Another of my homeroom kids, who was a frail tiny thing two weeks ago, had to have added on an inch, as well as some weight, during break. Amazing.
Of course I added to my frame as well, but it was all in my butt and my stomach. Such is life. It's back to Weight Watchers and the gym.
Monday, January 05, 2009
Easing into the New Year
Alas, it is over.
No more sleeping in. No more sitting in my jammies doing sudoko puzzles until noon. Not much college football left to watch (I swear, Daddy Bird and I watched just about every bowl game there was). No more afternoon movies with Hubster.
Yup, it's back to school.
We went back today. The kids, however, did not. I happen to love this. It gives us a day to kind of ease back into the routine (getting up at 5:00 am takes some getting used to again) and we get some good in-service time in.
Tomorrow, the chickadees come back to roost. Hopefully Santa gave them some work ethic and motivation for Christmas, but more likely he just hit them over the head with the hormone hammer. We'll see. It could be a pleasant surprise.
The good news is two of our worst-behaved and lowest achieving students withdrew on the Thursday before break. One, to a pre-adoptive foster home which is something this girl needed. She had the most useless foster parents I've ever encountered (wouldn't return calls, answer emails, basically were non-involved with this kids' academic and behavior problems) and she needed to be somewhere where someone might actually give a rip about her. The other was a young man who was living with his aunt and since he didn't bother to put forth any effort he was failing all his classes and was spending way too much time in ISS for back talk and generally being a pill. His father decided enough was enough and off he went to live with him in...North Dakota. Talk about a culture shock. I hope he has a warm coat because he's going to need it.
As for me, I need a nap.
No more sleeping in. No more sitting in my jammies doing sudoko puzzles until noon. Not much college football left to watch (I swear, Daddy Bird and I watched just about every bowl game there was). No more afternoon movies with Hubster.
Yup, it's back to school.
We went back today. The kids, however, did not. I happen to love this. It gives us a day to kind of ease back into the routine (getting up at 5:00 am takes some getting used to again) and we get some good in-service time in.
Tomorrow, the chickadees come back to roost. Hopefully Santa gave them some work ethic and motivation for Christmas, but more likely he just hit them over the head with the hormone hammer. We'll see. It could be a pleasant surprise.
The good news is two of our worst-behaved and lowest achieving students withdrew on the Thursday before break. One, to a pre-adoptive foster home which is something this girl needed. She had the most useless foster parents I've ever encountered (wouldn't return calls, answer emails, basically were non-involved with this kids' academic and behavior problems) and she needed to be somewhere where someone might actually give a rip about her. The other was a young man who was living with his aunt and since he didn't bother to put forth any effort he was failing all his classes and was spending way too much time in ISS for back talk and generally being a pill. His father decided enough was enough and off he went to live with him in...North Dakota. Talk about a culture shock. I hope he has a warm coat because he's going to need it.
As for me, I need a nap.
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