Spring Break!

It is spring break.

I am sleeping in.

I am getting a lot of walking in (need that exercise).

I am doing yard work.

I am actually cleaning my house.

I am reading. (A great book on Krakatoa)

I am knitting.

I am loving it.

The New Adventures of Klepto-boy

Ya'll remember Klepto-boy, dontcha? He was one of the little critters that was busy raiding my candy jar back before Christmas. I would have thought, after Deputy Dude went and had him wallowing in a puddle of tears with visions of incarceration dancing in his head, that he might have learned a lesson.

Apparently not.

On St. Patricks Day, during homeroom when the kids are unloading from the busses, and heading back from breakfast, I had to step next door to talk to Mr. Social Studies about a little lecture we needed to give the kids about gossip and rumors. It's that time of year when the gossip flies and the fights start.

Anyway.

Klepto Boy, who is in Mr. Social Studies' homeroom, sees his chance and goes next door to my room and grabs one of my green pens from the pencil cup I keep on my desk. This is my pencil cup and the kids know that they are not allowed to take anything from it. Even more, they're not allowed to touch anything on my desk, regardless.

I walk back into my room and one of my kids, who sits by my desk informs me that I've received a visit from Klepto Boy. I turn heel, find him next door, complete with my green pen tucked behind his ear. (The kids know I use a lot of wild colored pens and he obviously wanted a green one for St. Patrick's Day.) I ask if it's mine, and he stammers and hems and haws. I inform him that someone witnessed him taking it. He finally admited that he took it.

So I wrote up a discipline referral because, after all, this is the second time he's been caught doing the same thing. The referral gets worked, he ends up with 2 days of ISS, which is lucky because according to School Board Policy, he could have been suspended. However, there is a problem.

Klepto-Mom is not happy.

I'm in another parent meeting with the team on Monday morning (what a way to start the week), when The Principal comes over and asks if I could step in and talk with Klepto-Mom and The Enforcer (who worked the referral). Apparently Klepto-Mom doesn't agree that Klepto-Boy should have received a referral for what he did and refused to sign it.

"He just borrowed a pen. He didn't steal it," she says.

I then relay, yet again, the story: he left his homeroom, entered my room, took a pen off my desk, never asked to borrow, blah, blah, blah.

"He said he needed it to write down his assignments and he never lies to me so I know it's the truth."

At this point all three of us look at Klepto-Mom with our mouths agape. This is the mother of a 13-year old and she thinks he's never lied? Is she crazy?

Apparently so.

We then go over again the situation (I won't bore you the recitation). She again insists that he just borrowed the pen and meant to give it back.

"Well, if he needed a pen, why didn't he ask his homeroom teacher?" asks The Principal. "Why did he leave his room and go into another room, onto another teacher's desk and take a pen without asking."

"Well he just borrowed it." Klepto-Mom insists. She then demands to know why her son isn't being "properly supervised" so he doesn't leave the classroom.

We inform her that the kids are allowed to move a bit among the team during homeroom. After all, they're going to lockers, breakfast, visiting other teachers to turn in work or get makeup assignments. Amazing, but apparently this mother wants us to watch her child every second to make sure he doesn't do anything wrong, rather than have him develop the self-discipline and character to do the right thing in the first place. It is, of course, all our fault.

We got nowhere. The Enforcer and The Principal explain that no, he wasn't borrowing, he was stealing and yes, she should thank her lucky stars that he didn't get suspended. Klepto-Mom says she doesn't agree and there's obviously no changing our minds and she's just very upset because her little boy never lies and never steals. We are just mean, evil people who aren't doing our jobs.

Klepto-Mom leaves. I thank The Principal and The Enforcer for backing me up (not all administrators do this apparently; I'm blessed). The Principal rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "She had better get used to orange jumpsuits if she's going to make excuses for him forever," she says.

I can see it now, four-five years from now. Klepto-Boy is pulled over in a stolen vehicle, looks up at the officer and says, "But officer, I was just borrowing it. I really meant to give it back."

Dude, got some green?

It astounds me what a middle schooler will spend money on.

We have a student in the building who's been in critical care and seriously ill which is having, as you can well imagine, a bit of a financial impact on her family. Our PTO ladies decided that they could have a quick fundraiser by offering a St. Patrick's Day "Green Day" where they'd offer services such as hair gelling, hair spraying, green fingernail polish, shamrock temporary tattoos and the like. Prices were all to be under $2.00. They scheduled two hours for each grade, and it was up to the teacher's to decide if a kid was good enough to go. (That want something, they'll be angels - see my microscope posts for proof).

In any case, the kids went absolutely nuts and the PTO room was packed all day long. I have no idea how much money they raised but there were hardly any kids in the entire building that didn't have green hair, nails, or tattoos. You give a middle schooler a chance to spend money on something as stupid as putting green gel in hair, and they'll be plopping the bills down faster than you can say "Hand it over!"

Of couse, we teachers had to get involved because the PTO made it free for teachers (yet we all managed to toss some money into the collection box) and even had a breakfast there for us. Mrs. Eagle and I went in and had our hair sprayed green and our nails painted. The kids, of course, just loved it.

When you teach middle school you sometimes just have to swallow your pride and do something to look goofy.

I do, however, look stunning in green hair.

Happy St. Patrick's Day Everyone!

Fabio Returns!

Fabio slunk back today.

I didn't see him until 3rd period but apparently he batted his eyes and tried to charm his way back into second period without much luck. He landed in my room and I informed him of his new seat (one of my isolation seats) which is somewhere where, hopefully, he can't torment any other students and won't be constantly upstaging everyone and everything. He wasn't happy. He slunk off without a word.

And yes, his hair was short, and he was wearing normal (loose) boys jeans (no more girl jeans for him) and had a pale blue and red striped shirt. He looked, amazingly enough, like a normal 13 year old boy.

That was, of course, until he snuck out of the lunch line and went to the PTO room to pay $2 to get his hair spiked with green hair gel (a St. Patrick's Day fundraiser).

Sigh.

And if that wasn't enough, we were busy trying to squash the rumor mill (started by his very own girlfriend) that Fabio was going to be a Daddy. Apparently she was "late", fainted in 6th period yesterday, informed everyone that she and Fabio "did it" and she was sure a gerb was on the way. Thankfully, mother nature intervened and realized that these two children didn't need to breed, and Fabio's princess started her period this morning.

My one thought upon hearing this was that if Fabio's father gets wind of this, Fabio will be having more than his hair cut off.

Wear it High and Tight there boy!

Fabio Boy is one of those kids who should be a straight A student but is spending the bulk of his time being a totally cool awesome skater squirt. He drives us all nuts. He needs attention so bad I'm surprised he doesn't have a giant arrow pointing at him with a sign that says, "Hey, look at me!" He will raise his hand 27 times in a class just to stop and ask a completely irrelevant question and then pout when you tell him that no, you aren't going to call on him for a while. He's sneaky, devious, and is my number one candidate for a random drug test. He thinks he's incredibly adorable and he can charm his way out of anything.

He also has the most annoying hair on the planet. His hair is his glory. It's long, skater style, and his bangs hang down to his chin. He plays with it constantly. If he's not running his fingers through it, he's swinging his head all over the place, flopping his hair every which way. I can't tell if he's auditioning for a shampoo ad or if he's having a seizure. I can look out at my class and the kids could be sitting still except for Fabio Boy who's swinging his hair up and down and back and forth. Distracting doesn't begin to explain it.

But Fabio Boy crossed the line this week and told Sweet Smart Girl that the breathmint he gave her during my class was really crack cocaine. Sweet Smart Girl starts to have a full blown panic attack during class, insists, in tears that she needs to see me in the hallway RIGHT NOW, which means I'm leaving 26 seventh grade hormonal psychos (full moon, too), in the room for a few seconds while I step out to see what the drama is. Mr. Social Studies steps out and he agrees to write a pass to the nurse for Sweet Smart Girl (she has his class next) and I then proceed to write Fabio Boy a referral for this stupid, and cruel, stunt. I step back into my class from our hallway conference to find over half the kids out of their seats, goofing off, and chaos reigning.

So Fabio Boy gets his referral, and gets three days suspension plus 25 discipline points. And we all figure that Mom, who usually sobs and cries and wails that "I don't know what to do!!!" will come in and sob and cry and wail.

We are wrong.

Dad is back.

Dad is back from Iraq.

Miss Reading, who handled the referral (when we get backed up they'll pull a teacher to do admin), has a meeting with Dad and Fabio Boy and Dad is EXTREMELY DISPLEASED with Fabio Boy. Dad has just come back from a long stint in Iraq, where people are shooting and him and he's shooting at them, and the LAST THING he wants to deal with is his twerpy little son who's running around telling kids he's giving them crack cocaine. From what we can tell, based on Dad's conversation, Dad isn't regular army. He's one of the guys with scary badges. The kind that float in and float out and never quite tell you what, exactly, they're up to. In other words, not someone I'd want mad at me.

We have been informed that on Friday, when Fabio Boy returns, there WILL BE a change in attitude.

And there will be no more hair.

At all.

And Dad was serious. Fabio Boy wasn't even in school today, due to his suspension, and that was all the kids could talk about. And not even just my kids, but Mrs. Eagle's kids too. Fabio's haircut was The topic of conversation.

I can't wait to see Fabio Boy on Friday. I'm betting Dad took him out to post for his haircut and he'll be wearing it high and tight.

Hoo-ha!

Stupid Parent Tricks

Sometimes I have to remind myself that I teach in a public school so I deal with people at all levels of intelligence and education. All levels.

This means that sometimes we get parents who not only don't have a clue, but wouldn't have one if we put a handle on one and made it easy to carry.

Case in point.

A parent calls up to set up an appointment to meet with the team to discuss his child. One of The Secretaries takes the call and pulls out our team calendar and lets The Parent know that we could meet with him during our planning period (our only free time during the school day) at 7:40 am. This is not good with The Parent. The only time that is convenient for him is 1:30 in the afternoon so it will have to be then.

"I'm sorry," says The Secretary, "but they are teaching class at that time, so they won't be able to meet with you."

"You don't understand," says The Parent, "but that's the only time I can possibly meet with them."

"But they have students with them at that time. They can't just leave their classes to talk with you then."

"They can't?"

The Secretary nearly falls out of her chair at this one. She finally convinces him that if he can make it at 2:20, we can meet with him right after school for a few minutes before two of us have to head off to another meeting. He finally agrees to this, but still doesn't understand why 1:30 wasn't good.

I suppose we could have talked to him at 1:30. But that would have met leaving 120 seventh graders unattended for a while. And that, my friends, is a very, scary thing to do.

A little Bribery is good for the soul

I had to attend a conference on Tuesday.

You all know what that means. Conference + Teacher = Substitute. Substitute + 7th Graders = Insanity.

Honestly, when The Principal asked if Mrs. Eagle, the Guidance Guy, and I could go to this I was hesitant. Did I really want to leave my monsters alone with a sub for an entire day? These same monsters, after all, had to have visits from administrators the last few times I was out because of their out-of-control behavior. However, I wanted to go to the conference, so I swallowed my fear and went ahead and booked a sub.

And that's when I got smart.

My kids had all written in their journals about all the things they wanted to look at with microscopes: salt, blood, chocolate, hair, pond water, cat fur, etc. So. I made a deal with them. If I got a good report from the sub (and I mean really good), they would earn an additional day in the lab to look at cool stuff with the microscope. The way I figured it, they could always use an additional day working with the microscopes, making slides, and it wouldn't kill me to take a day out of our schedule (we're a bit ahead of our pacing guide) to give it to them. Plus, I figured that maybe only three classes would pull it off. There was no way on earth that The Fifth Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself would earn a microscope day.

The sub was a former parent of mine, so I know her pretty well, and I knew she'd do a good job and would be honest about their behavior. I even ran into her a few days before and told her about my deal with them and she loved the idea. She subs a lot in our building and knows most of the kids, which helps. She knows who to watch.

I was astounded when I saw that all five classes had earned their microscope day! In fact, even The Fifth Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself, had earned it. Not only did they earn it, but they received the comment, "I could have heard a pin drop they were so good."

A little bribery can be a very good thing.

Especially when I can point out that, "See, you can be a perfectly well behaved, well-mannered class, if you simply chose to do so!"

Lab Days!

Most middle school students (and elementary for that matter) don't deal with a change of routine very well. A fire drill in the beginning of the day will totally set them off and they'll be acting like nutballs the rest of the day. Taking them to another location for class - whether it's the reference room, the theater, or a lab - can be a challenge. They tend to lose their cool, and what little common sense they may have had.

So it was with some trepediation that we planned for not one, but two, lab days as part of our microscope unit. Mrs. Eagle, Mrs. Robin and I knew we'd be in for it, but the kids needed the practice on the microscopes and the only way they're going to get it was to take them to the lab and do it.

Of course, we all threatened them with just about everything short of death if they screwed up and misbehaved.

Amazingly enough, my kids did really well. In fact, so well that there were times I was almost nervous, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It wasn't a shoe, but a beaker, that did get broken but that's pretty minor considering what it could have been. The microscopes were all lined up along the counter and the kids did really well considering the close quarters and didn't squabble or fuss too much.

And they actually had the paitence to try focusing before they started squalling for me to come help them.

Victory!

You want motivation???

It's absolutely amazing what a seventh grader will do when properly motivated.

Because, you see, they aren't motivated by the things they should be motivated by. Taking pride in doing a good job doesn't do it. Getting a good grade doesn't do it. Actually being interested in the subject doesn't do it. Nope, none of those things do it.

However, if you tell the little critters that There's No Way On This Earth I'm Letting You Touch a Two Hundred Dollar Microscope Unless You Pass the Microscope Test, they'll get motivated.

So these little twerps, including some who maybe never got higher than a 50% on a test in my class (and if that isn't pathetic, I don't know what is), actually studied and passed the test. And I know this because they told me. For some of them it was the first time they even bothered to study.

All because they want to look at tiny things with a microscope.

Now you would think that they might, just might, get a clue that "hey, this studying thing really pays off," but chances are they won't. We used to teach this unit towards the beginning of the year and we'd all point out, "See what you can do if you try," and it always went in one ear and right out the other. And they'd go back to their old pattern of failing because they just didn't care.

But give a kid a chance to look at his or her own hair with a microscope and they'll walk across fire.

The True Adventures of Goth Girl

We have this student, Goth Girl, who drives just about every other teacher and administrator just up a wall, but whom I happen to really like. Maybe it's because I went through a punk rock phase myself when I was just a tad older than her, but regardless I really adore this kid. That being said she has issues beyond issues.

Goth Girl is really low academically mainly because (I suspect) she's got a really wicked case of ADHD. When she's not medicated (which seems to be most of the time) getting her to sit in her seat for more than 5 minutes is a challenge. Getting her to complete work can also be a struggle especially because she tends to get suspended a lot. However, if she ends up in ISS, she will complete everything and do quite well. She absolutely hates ISS because she's very social (and quite popular - she's a funny, silly, nice kid most of the time) but it's good for her to occasionally end up there so she can get caught up. She ends up in ISS and suspended because she's got one of the worse cases of impulse control I've ever seen. If it pops into her head, she says it or does it, and it's not always appropriate. She absolutely does not think before she says or does anything. She is on the short list for alternative school and she's one kid who I hope doesn't end up there.

Her home life is a bit eratic. Dad is military and when he's gone things tend to get a bit dicey at home - Goth Girl and her mother do not get along which isn't much of a surprise. Most moms (mine was one) aren't delighted when their daughter starts wearing lots of black eyeliner and dressing a bit strange. There's a little sibling in the picture who apparently gets a great deal of attention which I think is a lot of Goth Girl's problem - she's dying for someone to pay attention to her. It didn't take me long to figure this out and I give this kid a lot of attention and consequently she is absolutely never a problem for me. I can usually tell when she's upset and it's not unusual for her to want to talk to me about whatever is bothering her (and it could be anything).

When we had to divide up our kids who were in danger of failing for the year to send them before the support team (a committee that works to see if we can come up with a plan to help these kids), I chose Goth Girl as one of my kids. While going through her file I noticed that we had absolutely no current documentation as to a medical diagnosisof ADHD. The only thing we had was paperwork from 2000! We decided, during this meeting, that we need to get a current medical diagnosis so we can do a 504 for Goth Girl - this is basically a document that states that a student has a medical problem that is interferring with her education, and the accommodations the teachers will make to help this child be successful - usually things like extra testing time, modified work and tests, special seating, etc. Without this document there is no guarantee that the kid will receive the modifications needed to be successful.

So...I call mom (who got the letter about the s-team meeting) that we had met and wanted to do a 504 for Goth Girl, and that we would need some current paperwork from her doctor documenting her ADHD diagnosis. No problem, mom would get it to me. She's delighted we are working to help her daughter.

That was a month ago.

I have since written 3 notes in Goth Girl's agenda asking for this paperwork. I've also talked with a counselor from a local mental health facility where Goth Girl is now apparently going for counseling (Dad is home and decided the family needed some help). The caseworker left us notes asking to call and discuss her academics, so I asked if the caseworker could get the paperwork for me. She said she'd try. Still no paperwork.

We had a meeting set up with Mom on Thursday morning. Goth Girl even mentions to her homeroom teacher that Mom is coming in to see us. She even seems excited that we're meeting with Mom.

Mom does not show.

She also doesn't bother to call and let us know why, or bother to reschedule.

Sigh. Is it any wonder that Goth Girl has issues? When your own mother can't bother to show for a parent meeting (that she scheduled), what kind of message does that send? If I could, I'd take this kid home and raise her myself. She's a wonderful, loving kid if you love her back. But I suspect that's not something she's getting a lot of.

Sad to say...this isn't the first parent that's been a no-show. And it won't be the last. But it still just pisses me off.

Ya'll need some manners!

Before I go into my rant, let me just preface it with the statement that when it comes to weird, I'm not adverse. For example, there was a stage of my life (I was much younger) when I actually had dark purple hair, wore all black, and listened to incredibly loud punk rock music.

I still listen to the music but got rid of the purple hair. I do wear a lot of black, but that's because The Mother says it's slimming.

I have no problem with Goths. I don't mind the Skaters. The Country kids are fine. The Hard Rock kids are a joy.

It's the hip hop and rap kids that set my teeth on edge.

Case in point. We had our talent show this week and Mrs. Eagle and I worked the door (of course) and then snuck in and watched most of the show. There were your basic tumbling acts, we had baton twirlers, we had country singers, pop singers, a wonderful Latin dance group, and a lovely girl playing piano. We also had a dance troupe of 8 kids who did some sort of hip hop rap thing that was just hideous. It was, even in my laid back rock goddess opinion, rude and pretty vulgar (especially on the part of the girls). It celebrated the drug culture (and there was talk by at least one administrator about whether or not the sponsors of the show were aware of that). There was a huge section of the crowd that just loved this act and booed and hissed when they didn't win. It was absolutely repulsive.

And it occurred to me that not only does this hip hop culture celebrate the Cult of Thuginess (which I see in my kids all the time), but the followers of this type of music and culture have absolutely no concept of how to behave in public. They are rude. They talk during other acts. They act like they're at a sporting event and are stomping and carrying on. They curse and swear when they don't get their way and have their favorite act place second. We had to remove several of them due to their behavior during the show.

And these were the parents.

I think this culture celebrates bad behavior. It celebrates materialism (which many of these kids can get one way - through drugs). It celebrates criminal behavior. It treats all women as hoes and bitches and basically considers them to be tools for sex and nothing else.

And here we are, in February, Black History Month, and we're discussing such African-American heros such as Wilma Rudolph, George Washington Carver, Thurgood Marshall, and others, and my African-American kids don't care one bit about it. These people, who did so much to give them all they have today, aren't cool. Apparently cool is all its about with these kids.

How sad. I see an entire generation and culture beginning to implode.

If I'd only known that's all it would take

Stubborn Boy has been a pain in my life from day one. He's in my homeroom class and he's one of those kids who wants to be a thug (and he's a tiny little twerp) and refuses to do anything. He's rude and disrespectful. He is constantly getting in trouble about sagging and has informed us that he would like a career in jail because all they do is sit around and watch television. He's about the only kid in that class who I have trouble with and quite honestly, he ruins it for the others. When he's in ISS we all have a lot more fun.

Stubborn Boy got referred to our support team because he won't work and is failing (despite the fact that he's really quite bright). His homelife is shaky. Both parents have decent jobs so money isn't an issue (unusual for my critters). However, mom has had four boys with four different men, and the three older ones all have had run in's with the law. There may be money in this house, but not stability. In fact, Mom, who used to be quite supportive when we called in the beginning of the year, got fed up with our phone calls and refused to return them. Then she relocated about an hour away and didn't take Stubbon Boy with her.

His behavior, which wasn't stellar to begin with, went downhill from there.

He kept saying Mom was coming to get him and he'd be going to a new school, but it never happened.

This week he refused to even lift his pencil and begin work on his biome project so I sent him to see Guidance Guy who informed me that Stubborn Boy refused to talk and stared at him for 45 minutes. Today, during the Come to Jesus Meeting, he giggled and rolled his eyes since he thought the whole thing was stupid and obviously not targetted at him (and Mrs. Principal suggested he get written up for that). Five minutes later back in class he's again refusing to work on an in-class activity. So I write him up for willfully disobeying the teacher as well as his behavior during the meeting.

One period later (a record) he's in ISS for Three Days!

He told Mrs. Squirrel, who worked the referral, that his mom and moved and "forgot to take him".

Mrs. Saint calls Mom at work to inform him that he's in ISS and she discovered him with a huge wad of money and did she know anything about it? Mom goes nuts and says to hold tight, she's coming up and she's checking him out of school. Within two hours I have paperwork in front of me, his books are in guidance and according to the Guidance Goddess his mother is about ready to rip his head off. (Sort of like she was at the beginning of the year when I'd call her and she'd start screaming at him.)

Interestingly enough, when Dad returns Mrs. Saint's call later he's stunned that his wife (ex-wife?) has come and checked the kid out of school. Can we say communication problem?

So Stubborn Boy is gone.

He got his wish. Looks like Mom finally came and got him.

However, how long will it be before she gets fed up - again - and packs him back up here to live with Dad?

In the meantime, I'm looking forward to enjoying my homeroom.

The Come to Jesus Meeting

Every once in a while there comes a time in the lives of a middle school team where you just have to line the kids up and lay into them.

We call it a Come to Jesus Meeting.

You're hoping, obviously, that they'll see the light.

We had a Come to Jesus Meeting this morning. Basically, we've had it up to here with our kids. They are being absolutely awful. They can't go to the lockers without horseplay, without messing with each other, without hitting, punching, grabbing, you name it. They constantly want to "walk the circle" (which they are not supposed to do) so they can mess with and meet up with kids on other teams. (The original part of our building, which is where our team is housed, radiates off a core that holds guidance, some principal offices, and the library. The kids are supposed to follow a traffic pattern around the circle, but our kids have no reason to be walking around it in the first place.) We have a flock of girls who are constantly messing around with some of the sixth grade boys and frankly, I'm blue in the face from chasing them back to our area. We have kids who are rude, disruptive, disrespectful. We have kids who think the classroom is a playground and it takes ten minutes to calm them down so we can start class. In short We Have Had It Up To Here.

So as soon as they came back from related arts, we marched them to the theater and let them have it. The fact that we had all three administrators and the SRO in there really made them realize that, "oh crap, we're in trouble now." Most of them stared at their feet while we went over ONCE AGAIN the rules and informed them that this meeting was THEIR FINAL WARNING. They were informed that since we've spent the first semester counseling, warning, calling parents, and their behavior had not improved, we were handing out discipline referrals at the very next misstep. That was it, the gloves were off.

The fact that Mrs. Principal basically told the kids that she was backing us 100% and that they were going to work the referrals as fast as they could. They weren't going to get kicked back because when one of us does a referral, it's serious.

They silently walked back to class. The rest of the day we basically spent backing up our words. I wrote up four referrals today. That's a record. One was for a kid who I caught with gum on Wednesday, counseled, warned him I'd have to write him up if he did it again, and lo and behold, he's chewing like a cow in the middle of class. By the end of that period I had a handful of notes on my desk, most of which were "I'm sorry I've been so bad."

They're scared.

They should be.

Come to the light, children...come to the light.

And just like that....he's gone!

The Saga of Sparky continues.

As we last visited our hallowed halls, Sparky, our new child dumped on us by the State, had been suspended after a mere four days. If I recall correctly, he was suspended for a four day period for unruly behavior, to put it mildly.

He returned last week and proceeded to sexually harrass a young lady on our team who, amazingly enough, did not find his "bad-boy" image to be the least bit charming and was, in fact, completely grossed out and frightened by his attentions. Trying to hug her at lunch, blowing on her neck in line at lunch, following her around school making grabbing motions, and the like were his modus operandi. It was, as Mr. Social Studies proclaimed (and keep in mind, he's retired law enforcement so he's been, there done that) like watching a predator stalk his prey.

Within a day the young lady filed her complaint, witness statements were taken (and isn't it nice we have video cameras in the lunchroom so we can actually see what he was doing?) and off he goes again, suspended for sexual harrassment (which our school takes seriously as always the fear of a lawsuit looms overhead) and for a little incident in Mrs. Math's class where he was throwing balls of paper all over the room.

I was in Guidance this afternoon when the Guidance Goddess anounces that she had just received a request for records from another school in the state for Sparky. Turns out his foster parents apparently had had enough and off he went to another family. Mr. Enforcer had met with his caseworker earlier in the day and informed her about all of Sparky's adventures since he'd first arrived in our building only two weeks ago. Apparently her response was a shrug of the shoulders. (I kid you not, this kid needs to be placed in a residential facility where he can get help). Guidance Goddess announces that we didn't really have any records on him as he was suspended most of the time he was here. Sort of like the story we got from his last school when we tried to get records.

In any case, he was in our building for two weeks. I saw him in my room four times.

You'll be seeing him soon on America's Most Wanted.

Hack

I did something today I never ever do.

I took a sick day.

I absolutely hate the idea of leaving my kids in the hand of a sub, mainly because I feel sorry for the sub and I never can be assured that all hell won't break lose when I'm gone. Nothing against subs - I did it for three years and there isn't a lower paid underappreciated group of people on the planet - but seventh graders can be sneaking, lying, obnoxious little twerps and I always fear the worse.

So that should give you an idea of how absolutely rotten I feel.

There is this bronchial crud going through the building. A lot of teachers are out with it and I've had it now for nine days and it isn't getting any better. In fact, it's getting worse so I actually have a doctor's appointment for tomorrow afternoon. What I need are some powerful drugs to kick this thing. So, in the meantime, after hacking and coughing my way through the weekend, and through Monday school and after school tutoring, I finally just caved in and arranged to take Tuesday off. I physically hurt everywhere from the coughing and am sick and tired of not being able to breathe without a huge wheezing sound.

So I stayed home.

And slept.

And slept some more.

And slept.

And that's about it.

I'll be back at school tomorrow, mainly because I'm feeling just a tad better and I don't have plans ready for a sub for tomorrow.

And honestly, the thought of leaving my kids alone with a sub for two straight days scares the hell out of me.

An Un-Stoopid Day

Once in a while one of my crazies will actually have a real honest to good wonderful day. It's rare, but when it happens it's like a hot fudge sundae without the calories. It almost makes you want to cheer.

Today Stoopid Boy had a great, no holds barred, out and out fantastic day.

Now before you all get in a fuss over the fact that I'm calling this critter Stoopid Boy, let me explain. His absolute favorite thing to say is, "This is so stupid." Everything, to this kid, is stupid. Class is stupid, science is stupid, doing classwork is stupid, the weather is stupid, you name it, it's stupid. About the only thing that isn't stupid is skateboarding. I swear we must hear the word "stupid" out of this kid a hundred times a day. So often, in fact, that Mrs. Language told him that the next time she heard the word stupid out of his mouth, she'd make him write, "This is stupid", 5,000 times. (She hasn't heard it since, by the way.)

Stoopid Boy has issues beyond issues. He's bright but he's just one of those kids who can't seem to adjust to life and middle school. He's goofy, he's got parents who are embarrassed by him, he hates school, (it is, after all, stupid), isn't wild about life itself, and he really likes to buck authority. There are weeks where I don't see him because he ends up in ISS before he makes it to my room.

Today he was amazing. He came in, sat down, and got to work on his plant observations. He even opened his notes and looked at his flower picture before his quiz. He took his quiz (he got 16 out of 20). He didn't yell (he loves to scream and yell across the classroom.) He didn't run around, he didn't act like a complete and total pinhead. He also didn't say the word stupid one time. He was so wonderful, and so delightful, that I had him run an errand for me out to ISS (he does, after all, know the route quite well!) He informed me that his goal (and he even used the word "goal") was to get a C on the vocabulary test on Friday.

Stoopid Boy was, in short, a delight. Just goes to show that there is hope.

It Sucks to be Good

There are times when it sucks to be good.

Case in point...my team seems to get all the nut jobs that land in our building. Last year we voiced a bit of a concern about this. After all, there comes a time when you realize that every new kid you get has issues and you start wishing for just one - just one! - normal kid.

Well, as normal as a seventh grader can be.

And we always get the smile, and the compliment, "But you are such a strong team! You do such a great job with these kids!" Well, yeah, thanks, but can we just have a normal one now and then???

Case in point.

On Tuesday we got a new kid whom I'll call Sparky. Sparky has ISSUES. Big huge honkin' issues. We haven't seen much paperwork on him but the short story is he's in State Custody as mom just got sentenced to jail and dad, who was apparently there at the sentencing, was not allowed (or even offered) custody. According to Sparky, he's been in "about 80" schools this year so he's been bounced all over the place and I seriously doubt any learning has taken place.

On the first day he arrived he spent most of the day drawing pictures of guns and self-portraits of himself in handcuffs (quite good actually, but really disturbing).

On his second day he had a melt down in Social Studies, swore at Mr. Social Studies, pitched a fit and stormed out. This kid, by the way, has major issues with men and we all suspect he's been abused by one some time in his past. The female teachers don't have that much trouble with him, but his hackles get raised if there's a male in the picture, whether it's a teacher, a guidance counselor, or a vice principal.

On the third day he had another melt down in Social Studies, this one resulting in a discipline referral. He was sentenced to In School Suspension (ISS).

On the fourth day he gets written up for causing a disruption and throwing things around the ISS room and gets suspended.

He lasted four days.

I have no idea when or if he'll be back. Quite honestly, this kid needs some serious help that our public school system can't provide. He needs a lot of therapy. And he probably needs to be in an environment where our little monsters aren't feeding into his anger and aggravating the situation. He is, quite honestly, a bit scary.

Whatever the case is, it's absolutely tragic that kids like this are out there.

Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy

It's January Madness time!!!!

Or, for the uninitiaed, it's middle school basketball tournament time! And guess who's school is hosting it this year??? Yuppers, you got it!

This is a big deal here in our town, when all six schools battle it out over three days. It's also a huge financial windfall for the school that's hosting it because people actually come out and watch these games (and get way too excited for their own good, truth be told). The six schools rotate the hosting job so every six years the basketball program gets a real injection of cash to help keep it funded. Considering that it's not unheard of for a teacher to help buy new shoes for a player who's currently on free and reduced lunch and can't afford decent shoes, it's nice to see a bit of cash coming in to help pay for incidentals such as, well, shoes.

It is, however, a lot of work.

For example, Mrs. Eagle and I had decided to volunteer to work the first day of the tournament and, as usual, we ended up working the main door from 2:30 - 8:30 taking in admission. (For those of you who think the teacher's day ends at 3:00, keep in mind that we were both at school at 6:15 that morning and left at 8:45 that evening...it's a long flipping day - and we don't get paid extra for this, either.) There are two drawbacks to working admission, however. One is you don't get to see the game. The other is that you're sitting right by the front door and get a blast of frigid air every time someone enters or leaves the building. I'm not sure why we always end up doing admission but I suspect it's because we're both pretty anal retentive and are really good with the money - we always balance out. We also get to watch the wackos, not all of which are our students.

Last night was pretty good as far as tournaments go. We had 404 paid spectators, only about 4 of which got asked to leave the building (and one was a parent of a kid from another school). The PTO kicked butt in the hospitality room (where officials and staff get to go to eat supper) and provided a spread that blew everyone's diet all to hell. And amazingly enough, our teams both won their games. This in itself is a stunner because they were both seeded fourth. Out of six teams.

So all in all, it was a good night.

I was originally planning on staying and watching the teams play again tonight, but the bronchial infection I've been battling since the weekend changed my mind. I'm not sleeping well, I'm tired, and I really just need to get over this. So part of me feels a bit bad that I'm not there, but the rest of me (the part that's aching and tired) is glad I made the choice.

Is it a full moon or am I just losing my mind?

It is a basic truth known by most seventh grade teachers that seventh graders lose their minds completely (as oppossed to partially) over the Christmas holiday. And every year we hope that This Will Be The Year It's Different. And every year we're disappointed.

Very disappointed.

Our kids have, for the most part, turned into little psycho nutballs. I had warned Mr. Social Studies about this phenomena, how even the good kids before Christmas become raving lunatics after the holidays, and he's spent most of this week muttering, "You warned me. You were right. They are insane."

Case in point...I don't give out discipline referrals very often. I'm the type of teacher who likes to do a bit more counseling, warning, and work with a kid before I turn them over to administration. A kid that gets a referral from me has worked his way through all this, including a series of behavior notes, phone calls home, and all that warm fuzzy stuff before I've finally thrown down the glove and filled out the referral. Either that or they've done something blatantly stupid, such as fighting, in which case they get a referral and we skip the warm fuzzy stuff.

I gave more referrals in one day this week than I've given in any month previous.

My fifth period, the Class From The Very Depths of Hell Itself, (which only has 23 kids) got two discipline referrals, one behavior note and four verbal warnings. These kids were absolutely beyond crazy.

This particular group of kids has a number of boys who like to throw things. Not big things that get noticed, but sneaky little things like erasers and spitballs. Little things that cause the other kids in the class to yell and scream and disrupt the class with cries of "Mrs. Bluebird, someone is throwing things!" So then you have to stop the class, try to find out who's doing it (I managed to guilt two of them into confessing this week.) and then do the stupid paperwork to send to the office. And by then they're all off task, no one is paying attention, and I'm about ready to kill them all. They are also, I might add, not getting along with each other, are fussing and demanding to get moved to different lab groups, and basically are finding wasy to annoy and frustrate everyone around them.

And they wonder why they don't get good grades.

In one ear and out the other.

We have been studying photosynthesis and cellular respiration now for three weeks.

Every day for this period of time we have looked at, gone over, worked with and discussed the formulas, both word and chemical description, for both of these topics. They aren't hard because they happen to be opposite reactions so if you know one, you can figure out the other. We have done everything outside of tattooing this information on their foreheads.

We gave our unit test on Friday and two of the questions asked the students to write out both of these equations. Maybe about 75% even tried. Out of that group, maybe 10% got them close to correct.

I shouldn't be amazed (but I still am) how many kids looked surprised that they needed to know this. This, despite me telling them every single day that they needed to have these formulas memorized both for the unit test and even more importantly for the state assessment at the end of the year.

My favorite, however, is the kid (and there's usually at least one in each class) who will walk in on the day of the test and act completely surprised and stunned that there is a test. I suppose the fact that it's been written on the whiteboard for a week, that they should have been writing it in their agenda for a week, and that we went over the study guide and reviewed it, aren't big enough clues to the fact that there's a test.

I can only hope that they will eventually grow up, mature, and start to care about their futures.