I'm off to a wedding this weekend! I'm leaving my 95 degree Texas world for a cold New York one. Still not quite sure how to dress, but sure will figure out in due time. I find it absurd that I could have need for a coat when it's going to be May on Sunday. Why would anyone live there? Sounds horrid. Dunno. Will find out.
Gus has been delivered to his daycare (the house where he ate the bunny a couple weeks ago), and hopefully he won't cause our friends any undue stress or repairs. I feel as though my child has gone off to camp. Our house is freakishly quiet. Eerie.
Must go pack. (I'm still not sure what clothes to put in the suitcase, but I need to go put something in there. I just know this is going to be one of those trips where I find myself with one pair of pants and no appropriate shirt to wear. And something useless, like a bathing suit.)
Only twenty days of school left. And it's not Tuesday! What more could I ask for?
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Not the Nigley!
Big day today, big day. After his experimentation with American slang yesterday, Stifler was subjected to a highly embarrassing and uncomfortable situation today as his other (45 year old) teacher explained to him in great detail what exactly the word he used yesterday meant, precisely how offensive to women it was, and in no uncertain terms when he was not to use it again. He turned exactly eight shades of purple and red, looked properly mortified when he found out what it really meant, and is no longer making direct eye contact with his other teacher. I, on the other hand, stood behind a wall watching and trying not to make noise as I trembled in hysterical laughter. It was fabulous.
Which leads me to the next part of my day. My day seems to have been characterized by raucous bouts of my own inappropriate laughter which I've had to restrain myself from sharing. While good for the abs, it's very challenging for me to pull off in front of kids.
So there I was, sitting in my superfab teacher chair, listening in on a literature circle. The kids were enthusiastically discussing a book called Absolutely Normal Chaos. I purposely made this group all girls because of the nature of the girly book, but apparently made a mild error in judgment when I placed curious, outspoken girls who like to talk about everything under the sun together.
One of the roles is called Comprehension Monitor, whose illustrious job it is to find words or sections of text which interfere with comprehension and they are to muddle through them with the group until they figure it out. Usually a pretty fun role, nothing for me to worry about...until today.
"Okay, my first word is on page 81 and it's nigley." Huh? I thought, I don't know that one. I listened closely as she read aloud while I flipped idly to the page at hand. "I found a sheer nigley in my sister's underwear drawer," she read loudly and then grinned at the word underwear. The other little girls began to titter and I scanned rapidly for the word. My heart stopped as I started to put the clues together and my eyes zoomed in on the word "negligee." Oh, Lord.
I felt the corners of my mouth begin to twitch and I struggled to restrain myself. I decided to just let the girls talk it out. "It's one of those BRA things!" one exclaimed, turning red. Copious giggles abound. Bras are a very hot topic in my class right now. "No, but it has a skirt! It's a bra with a skirt!" Boys begin to look visibly uncomfortable and scoot away from the circle of underwear activists, now arguing over the most accurate classification for this item of clothing. "It said sheer! That's like clear! Why would you want it clear? Somebody could see! It can't be a bra!" I felt a snicker coming on and disguised it as a cough. This noise, unfortunately, reminded them of my presence and they asked me how to pronounce nigley. I carefully enunciated the word, careful not to speak too loudly, lest some lurking parent be lying in wait for my demise. I can't go down on a negligee clause, it really wouldn't be worth it.
My pronunciation triggered some recognition in the eyes of my more worldly students. They gasped and clapped hands over their mouths. And that was when I got tickled. I felt my body begin to shake as I tried not to show my amusement, but the laughter quickly got the better of me and I began to laugh hysterically, tears pouring from my eyes. I emitted very unattractive snorts and chortles as I tried to regain control. The kids laughed and cheered with me, thrilled beyond words that they had provided me such great enjoyment. We all eventually got control and returned to the meeting.
My context clues expert who had picked up on the sheerness of a negligee spoke up, bored. "My mom has a nigley. It's gross. You can see right through it." She giggled naughtily, as did I, but for a different reason. I love parent dirt. It gives me a high.
When parents come in upset the next day over something ridiculous like, say, gosh...I don't know...they insist that we take all the pictures off of the tsunami webquest because the photos make their daughter feel sad? Sad? It's a tsunami! Yeah. That's when I can snicker in my head about their see-through nigley, while I smoothly emanate sickeningly sweet reassurances about the remarkable marvel that is their daughter.
Which leads me to the next part of my day. My day seems to have been characterized by raucous bouts of my own inappropriate laughter which I've had to restrain myself from sharing. While good for the abs, it's very challenging for me to pull off in front of kids.
So there I was, sitting in my superfab teacher chair, listening in on a literature circle. The kids were enthusiastically discussing a book called Absolutely Normal Chaos. I purposely made this group all girls because of the nature of the girly book, but apparently made a mild error in judgment when I placed curious, outspoken girls who like to talk about everything under the sun together.
One of the roles is called Comprehension Monitor, whose illustrious job it is to find words or sections of text which interfere with comprehension and they are to muddle through them with the group until they figure it out. Usually a pretty fun role, nothing for me to worry about...until today.
"Okay, my first word is on page 81 and it's nigley." Huh? I thought, I don't know that one. I listened closely as she read aloud while I flipped idly to the page at hand. "I found a sheer nigley in my sister's underwear drawer," she read loudly and then grinned at the word underwear. The other little girls began to titter and I scanned rapidly for the word. My heart stopped as I started to put the clues together and my eyes zoomed in on the word "negligee." Oh, Lord.
I felt the corners of my mouth begin to twitch and I struggled to restrain myself. I decided to just let the girls talk it out. "It's one of those BRA things!" one exclaimed, turning red. Copious giggles abound. Bras are a very hot topic in my class right now. "No, but it has a skirt! It's a bra with a skirt!" Boys begin to look visibly uncomfortable and scoot away from the circle of underwear activists, now arguing over the most accurate classification for this item of clothing. "It said sheer! That's like clear! Why would you want it clear? Somebody could see! It can't be a bra!" I felt a snicker coming on and disguised it as a cough. This noise, unfortunately, reminded them of my presence and they asked me how to pronounce nigley. I carefully enunciated the word, careful not to speak too loudly, lest some lurking parent be lying in wait for my demise. I can't go down on a negligee clause, it really wouldn't be worth it.
My pronunciation triggered some recognition in the eyes of my more worldly students. They gasped and clapped hands over their mouths. And that was when I got tickled. I felt my body begin to shake as I tried not to show my amusement, but the laughter quickly got the better of me and I began to laugh hysterically, tears pouring from my eyes. I emitted very unattractive snorts and chortles as I tried to regain control. The kids laughed and cheered with me, thrilled beyond words that they had provided me such great enjoyment. We all eventually got control and returned to the meeting.
My context clues expert who had picked up on the sheerness of a negligee spoke up, bored. "My mom has a nigley. It's gross. You can see right through it." She giggled naughtily, as did I, but for a different reason. I love parent dirt. It gives me a high.
When parents come in upset the next day over something ridiculous like, say, gosh...I don't know...they insist that we take all the pictures off of the tsunami webquest because the photos make their daughter feel sad? Sad? It's a tsunami! Yeah. That's when I can snicker in my head about their see-through nigley, while I smoothly emanate sickeningly sweet reassurances about the remarkable marvel that is their daughter.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Santa's a Sneaky Dude
My kids had to write three opened ended responses today as a quiz over the Texas Revolution study we've been laboring over for two months now. I just wanted to see what they knew in their own words. WELL. I got some of their own words. I think I spent just a little too much time in writing this year talking about releasing their voice into their stories...
A Sampling of Responses: [original spelling in tact...remember my district doesn't teach spelling]
Which battle in the Texas Revolution do you think was the most important to Texas and why?
"The Battle of the Almo was the most important because Texas whooped up on Mexico. Espeshally Davy Crockett" [the Texans suffered a miserable loss at the Alamo, not sure where this kid got the idea about the "whooping up"]
"Sure a lot of people died in the Alamo, but you gotta admit it made for a preeeeety catchy battle cry later on at San Jacinto." [I liked this one, it made me laugh]
Do you think that Santa Anna should have been tried and executed for his crimes, or do you think Sam Houston did the right thing by letting him return to Mexico after signing the treaty?
"Well, they had to watch out for Santa because he was a pretty snekey dude." [I like how the kids think his first name is Santa]
"If it wasn't for Sam Houston sending Santa Anna back, we wouldn't have any bubble gum." [?!]
"Actually he wasn't all bad. Santa gave Susanna Dickinson presents and set her free after the Alamo was over." [me cracking up madly at teacher desk, pounding with fist]
And, finally, the one that put me over the edge:
"Santa Anna should have been sent to trial and killed because he was being a pussy and trying to hide." End quote.
Need I say more? Delightful youth I teach, these ten year olds! (That last one was Stifler, in case you were wondering.)
A Sampling of Responses: [original spelling in tact...remember my district doesn't teach spelling]
Which battle in the Texas Revolution do you think was the most important to Texas and why?
"The Battle of the Almo was the most important because Texas whooped up on Mexico. Espeshally Davy Crockett" [the Texans suffered a miserable loss at the Alamo, not sure where this kid got the idea about the "whooping up"]
"Sure a lot of people died in the Alamo, but you gotta admit it made for a preeeeety catchy battle cry later on at San Jacinto." [I liked this one, it made me laugh]
Do you think that Santa Anna should have been tried and executed for his crimes, or do you think Sam Houston did the right thing by letting him return to Mexico after signing the treaty?
"Well, they had to watch out for Santa because he was a pretty snekey dude." [I like how the kids think his first name is Santa]
"If it wasn't for Sam Houston sending Santa Anna back, we wouldn't have any bubble gum." [?!]
"Actually he wasn't all bad. Santa gave Susanna Dickinson presents and set her free after the Alamo was over." [me cracking up madly at teacher desk, pounding with fist]
And, finally, the one that put me over the edge:
"Santa Anna should have been sent to trial and killed because he was being a pussy and trying to hide." End quote.
Need I say more? Delightful youth I teach, these ten year olds! (That last one was Stifler, in case you were wondering.)
Monday, April 25, 2005
Bull Penises. And another story you'll never believe...
Wow. There are some people who are so nice it just astounds me. It makes me want to run out and do a random act of kindness. The blog world is a mysterious place. I "met" Jen by finding her blog through links or on Blog Explosion or something random like that. She has a beagle named Sierra who looks very much like Gus and engages in many similar antics.
We've talked beagle talk a lot and she actually understands when Gus does something like, say, eat a baby bunny at a friend's house, or devour an entire loaf of bread while I shower. If you don't own a beagle, I realize it's hard to feel sympathy, but Jen does. She's been there.
So, today! She sent me a present in the mail! Well, it was actually addressed to Augustus Mortimer, but still! Look what she sent me:
It's a bunny toy with a squeaker, shampoo, conditioner, a card, and best of all...bull penises! No one has ever sent me bull penises before! Especially not tied up with a pretty pink ribbon! She says they're to be called "bully sticks." Gus was so excited when he smelled those bad boys that he almost came out of his skin:
I quickly gave him one and he scampered away to examine his new find. It didn't take him long to realize that it was something to be valued and immediately ran to find a place to bury it! He tried first behind a plant:
And then in a bed:
Before he finally decided that he needed to get away from me and my pesky camera. He raced around the house with his contraband for a while, attempting to find a good burial hiding place and hoped for the great outdoors:
At last, I convinced him it was okay to eat it now and he has finally exhausted himself and his jaws after 30 minutes of solid chewing.
Now, the moral of the story: Is that not the nicest thing you've heard today? Sending a stranger a gift box to share with her beloved beagle? And bull penises?? Just makes me want to go out and commit a random act of kindness! I think everyone who is wowed by Jen's generosity to a stranger should go visit her blog and tell her how great she is!
We've talked beagle talk a lot and she actually understands when Gus does something like, say, eat a baby bunny at a friend's house, or devour an entire loaf of bread while I shower. If you don't own a beagle, I realize it's hard to feel sympathy, but Jen does. She's been there.
So, today! She sent me a present in the mail! Well, it was actually addressed to Augustus Mortimer, but still! Look what she sent me:
It's a bunny toy with a squeaker, shampoo, conditioner, a card, and best of all...bull penises! No one has ever sent me bull penises before! Especially not tied up with a pretty pink ribbon! She says they're to be called "bully sticks." Gus was so excited when he smelled those bad boys that he almost came out of his skin:
I quickly gave him one and he scampered away to examine his new find. It didn't take him long to realize that it was something to be valued and immediately ran to find a place to bury it! He tried first behind a plant:
And then in a bed:
Before he finally decided that he needed to get away from me and my pesky camera. He raced around the house with his contraband for a while, attempting to find a good burial hiding place and hoped for the great outdoors:
At last, I convinced him it was okay to eat it now and he has finally exhausted himself and his jaws after 30 minutes of solid chewing.
Now, the moral of the story: Is that not the nicest thing you've heard today? Sending a stranger a gift box to share with her beloved beagle? And bull penises?? Just makes me want to go out and commit a random act of kindness! I think everyone who is wowed by Jen's generosity to a stranger should go visit her blog and tell her how great she is!
Sunday, April 24, 2005
When I Grow Up...
I know who I want to be.
I want to be the lady who lives at the beach year round. She gets up super-early every morning because she has that Old-people-can't-sleep-in-but-falls-asleep-at-eight-pm-in-her-chair Syndrome. She goes and walks on the beach at sunrise and gets all the good shells that have washed up during the night. Later, she will sit on her balcony and giggle craftily at the young tourists searching hopefully for seashells around 8am. Her vast collection of whole sanddollars and conch shells will inevitably end up in a jar gracing the back of a toilet.
She has copious amounts of snow white hair that is without specific style, but manages to look wind-blown and natural most days. She is deeply tanned with warm crinkly eyes and a leathery chest. (Not old lady in There's Something About Mary leathery, just a nice soft brown series of wrinkles.) There may be a few stray chin hairs, but she is not worried about them, they add character.
She spends her days reading on the beach or the balcony. She definitely has a bathing suit which involoves a skirt, and she has skinny brown legs. She does not wear shoes, ever. She comes in at one for lunch (a tomato sandwich with Duke's mayonnaise and sweet tea) and some mindless, trashy television, possibly Days of Our Lives. In the afternoon, she naps in a hammock, then freshens up to meet her friends for happy hour at the local beachfront dive, where the ladies have a regular table waiting for them. They might play cards. Some days she plays seniors doubles tennis at the club.
That's who I want to be when I grow up.
I want to be the lady who lives at the beach year round. She gets up super-early every morning because she has that Old-people-can't-sleep-in-but-falls-asleep-at-eight-pm-in-her-chair Syndrome. She goes and walks on the beach at sunrise and gets all the good shells that have washed up during the night. Later, she will sit on her balcony and giggle craftily at the young tourists searching hopefully for seashells around 8am. Her vast collection of whole sanddollars and conch shells will inevitably end up in a jar gracing the back of a toilet.
She has copious amounts of snow white hair that is without specific style, but manages to look wind-blown and natural most days. She is deeply tanned with warm crinkly eyes and a leathery chest. (Not old lady in There's Something About Mary leathery, just a nice soft brown series of wrinkles.) There may be a few stray chin hairs, but she is not worried about them, they add character.
She spends her days reading on the beach or the balcony. She definitely has a bathing suit which involoves a skirt, and she has skinny brown legs. She does not wear shoes, ever. She comes in at one for lunch (a tomato sandwich with Duke's mayonnaise and sweet tea) and some mindless, trashy television, possibly Days of Our Lives. In the afternoon, she naps in a hammock, then freshens up to meet her friends for happy hour at the local beachfront dive, where the ladies have a regular table waiting for them. They might play cards. Some days she plays seniors doubles tennis at the club.
That's who I want to be when I grow up.
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Benchmarks
It's my birthday today! I slept in and got a haircut. Two of my very favorite things. Why are birthdays so uneventful after 21? At 25, I think my rental car privileges improved...or maybe my car insurance dropped? Something equally exciting, I'm sure. The real event at 25 was that my metabolism shifted and my "getting late at the Bell" habit started to have visible consequences for the first time in my life.
What will my next big birthday be...50? Is it 50 when some restaurants count you for discount dining? Or is that 60? Not sure. At any rate, I'm 29 today. Many people have suggested that this be my last birthday and I should just keep turning 29 every year from now on, but what's the fun in that? I like a nice new number every year.
I wonder where I should eat tonight that someone might give me free cheesecake? Only if it's not accompanied by singing though. I would rather pay for the cheesecake than be serenaded in public. There is to be none of that.
Well, that's about all of the post excitement I can muster today. I think my day peaked when the elderly man from my church back home called my cell phone and sang me a rousing baritone Happy Birthday and told me he loved me! What more could I ask for?
What will my next big birthday be...50? Is it 50 when some restaurants count you for discount dining? Or is that 60? Not sure. At any rate, I'm 29 today. Many people have suggested that this be my last birthday and I should just keep turning 29 every year from now on, but what's the fun in that? I like a nice new number every year.
I wonder where I should eat tonight that someone might give me free cheesecake? Only if it's not accompanied by singing though. I would rather pay for the cheesecake than be serenaded in public. There is to be none of that.
Well, that's about all of the post excitement I can muster today. I think my day peaked when the elderly man from my church back home called my cell phone and sang me a rousing baritone Happy Birthday and told me he loved me! What more could I ask for?
Friday, April 22, 2005
I don't get it.
Can someone please tell me what is happening in our society that it is becoming okay to yell at teachers? To treat them differently that you would treat any other professional in any other field?
What gives parents the right to (publicly) yell at a teacher and threaten a lawsuit while standing in the foyer of an elementary school swarming with children, teachers, and (worse) other parents? Especially when the parent is yelling about something about which they are completely misinformed and turn out to be in the wrong...and they don't apologize.
This didn't happen to me, but it happened to a friend yesterday and she came running down the hall sobbing in humiliation. It just infuriates me that this abuse is tolerated. In no other field of work can I imagine that this behavior is acceptable.
And by the way...the teacher's alleged offense? The lady's child didn't get to see a movie which another teacher promised him. My friend was not involved in any way, yet received the parent's anger and mistreatment without any form of apology. Yeah, that makes sense.
What gives parents the right to (publicly) yell at a teacher and threaten a lawsuit while standing in the foyer of an elementary school swarming with children, teachers, and (worse) other parents? Especially when the parent is yelling about something about which they are completely misinformed and turn out to be in the wrong...and they don't apologize.
This didn't happen to me, but it happened to a friend yesterday and she came running down the hall sobbing in humiliation. It just infuriates me that this abuse is tolerated. In no other field of work can I imagine that this behavior is acceptable.
And by the way...the teacher's alleged offense? The lady's child didn't get to see a movie which another teacher promised him. My friend was not involved in any way, yet received the parent's anger and mistreatment without any form of apology. Yeah, that makes sense.
Sweet Nectar
Ah....a blissful day off. I can think again. I slept until 9:45, went to brunch with Mike, laid in the sun, planted my garden, laid out some more, and showered. Heaven. Happy birthday to me.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Crusty Biscuits
**Sorry this is so long, but I just had to express myself today. Even if it's lousy, it felt good to write it.
So ends another day of TAKSfest 2005. I have now rested for my requisite two hours of recovery time and am at last able to consider rehashing my day for your reading pleasure. My beagle is howling relentlessly outside my window and I am blissfully full of homemade pizza and beer. I think I can now cope with my day of disturbing events. Wait…must go get beagle. No one can think, much less write, amid such cacophony.
(pause)
My day dawned misty and gray as I…forget all that. It’s TAKS Reading, my test. Math was yesterday, but this is one I teach. I pulled all the kids from both classes whose ability to bomb the test and ruin me was higher than the other kids’ into my classroom and packed ‘em in like sausages. I carefully separated desks and strategically placed kids facing walls, near me, away from the door, apart from other kids, in front of the color purple and behind an easel, respectively. (I aim to meet all testing styles. That’s just how flexible I am. Heh.)
At last, we got past the excitement of new seats and crusty sausage biscuits from the cafeteria and began The Test. I read my obligatory robotic speech directly from the TAKS Manual and tried to convey the gravity of this situation to the kids by placing emphasis on specific words without deviating one letter from the booklet. [“You MAY take NOTES if you should CHOOSE to in the booklet.”] They began and I relaxed. I paced the room to make sure everyone was on the right page and then I settled in to read my book. Or so I planned.
That was approximately the time at which the bathroom/food syndromes simultaneously began. Little did I know I was not to sit down for the next 4 hours. It turns out that a passage about Vietnamese holidays might not be as intriguing to ten year olds as you’d think.
I have this student to whom I am strangely attached despite the fact that he has moved away (and come back) twice this school year, doesn’t complete work of any kind, possesses a locker which is a notorious biohazard, bullies other kids, and generally wears copious amounts of cafeteria breakfast on his face for the better part of a day. Again, strangely, inexplicably attached. I spent most of my time today begging him to just try on the test. Just try! That’s all I wanted. He’s very capable of passing, just uninterested in the idea. He took 11 bathroom breaks. When returning from the fourth, he waved me over excitedly. I eagerly rushed to his side, anticipating that he was ready to buckle down and tackle that test when he said, “Mrs.! Guess what?!” “What?” I asked, ready to receive the good news. “After I washed my hands, I shot the paper towel backhand around my waist from six feet away and made it!” He grinned and bounced. I gritted my teeth and pointed to his test. He frowned. I walked away to resume monitoring.
I cruised by Munchkin’s desk ten minutes later to realize he had misappropriated my “teacher chair” on the sly. He was joyfully spinning back and forth on the cushy splendor that is my coveted seat. I returned him to his chair and tried to keep his distractions to a dull roar as the rest of my kids attempted to solicit food from me. Last year, the third grade teachers must have plied them with food for the duration of the testing session because my students find TAKS to be synonymous with Eat Fest. “Can I have a Jolly Rancher?” “Is there more juice?” “Can I have two bags of pretzels?” “Do you have any gum?” and my personal favorite… “Can we take off our shoes?” Bahr? Are you taking a test or having a party??
I finally got things moving and the grumblers testing. I was just sinking into my rocking chair when…the power went off. Now, we have a skylight instead of a ceiling, so there was really no problem, but a power outage nearly shut down any work I had managed to get started in the last hour. It took a good twenty minutes to convince my students that the world wasn’t ending and that school would not, in fact, be called off. I sighed and looked around to find that my teacher chair had again been commandeered, this time by the child who believes herself a cat.
The students in my class are treated kindly but very firmly and were apparently placed in my room for that reason. They test every rule, regulation and social norm that exist. At home, they are not made to follow directions and at school, their parents make excuses for any of their wrongdoings. Usually, I am able to tease them into behaving or win them over and make them believe that they want to be good. Not today. Today, their true colors, evil twins, and deep seeded souls came out. I’ve never seen them act like this around me all year. Other people? Yes. But not me!
I agitatedly reclaimed my chair while patting Fluffy on the head and turned to find Munchkin finished with his test, wearing the frog sticker from his pretzel bag prominently on his forehead. I snatched his test from him and grumpily sent him to the “done” room.
The rest of the day went much the same as I saved one of my best students from a tragic breakdown when he burst into flames of stress and decided he would never finish on time and he was going to fail fourth grade. I took him outside and reassured him until he felt able to finish the test. I’ve never seen this kid cry, ever. TAKS does funny things to us all. The afternoon found me defending myself when a kid discovered that their desk could make a whizzpopper-like squeak and all the kids stared at me. Me! The teacher who has not cropdusted them in months. Honestly, there is no trust.
And after all that, guess who got “chosen” to give the make up tests tomorrow?? Me!! Little ‘ol me. I’m going to hook myself up with a laptop and go to town. At least I’ll only have 5 kids and some tests. Going to bed now…
So ends another day of TAKSfest 2005. I have now rested for my requisite two hours of recovery time and am at last able to consider rehashing my day for your reading pleasure. My beagle is howling relentlessly outside my window and I am blissfully full of homemade pizza and beer. I think I can now cope with my day of disturbing events. Wait…must go get beagle. No one can think, much less write, amid such cacophony.
(pause)
My day dawned misty and gray as I…forget all that. It’s TAKS Reading, my test. Math was yesterday, but this is one I teach. I pulled all the kids from both classes whose ability to bomb the test and ruin me was higher than the other kids’ into my classroom and packed ‘em in like sausages. I carefully separated desks and strategically placed kids facing walls, near me, away from the door, apart from other kids, in front of the color purple and behind an easel, respectively. (I aim to meet all testing styles. That’s just how flexible I am. Heh.)
At last, we got past the excitement of new seats and crusty sausage biscuits from the cafeteria and began The Test. I read my obligatory robotic speech directly from the TAKS Manual and tried to convey the gravity of this situation to the kids by placing emphasis on specific words without deviating one letter from the booklet. [“You MAY take NOTES if you should CHOOSE to in the booklet.”] They began and I relaxed. I paced the room to make sure everyone was on the right page and then I settled in to read my book. Or so I planned.
That was approximately the time at which the bathroom/food syndromes simultaneously began. Little did I know I was not to sit down for the next 4 hours. It turns out that a passage about Vietnamese holidays might not be as intriguing to ten year olds as you’d think.
I have this student to whom I am strangely attached despite the fact that he has moved away (and come back) twice this school year, doesn’t complete work of any kind, possesses a locker which is a notorious biohazard, bullies other kids, and generally wears copious amounts of cafeteria breakfast on his face for the better part of a day. Again, strangely, inexplicably attached. I spent most of my time today begging him to just try on the test. Just try! That’s all I wanted. He’s very capable of passing, just uninterested in the idea. He took 11 bathroom breaks. When returning from the fourth, he waved me over excitedly. I eagerly rushed to his side, anticipating that he was ready to buckle down and tackle that test when he said, “Mrs.! Guess what?!” “What?” I asked, ready to receive the good news. “After I washed my hands, I shot the paper towel backhand around my waist from six feet away and made it!” He grinned and bounced. I gritted my teeth and pointed to his test. He frowned. I walked away to resume monitoring.
I cruised by Munchkin’s desk ten minutes later to realize he had misappropriated my “teacher chair” on the sly. He was joyfully spinning back and forth on the cushy splendor that is my coveted seat. I returned him to his chair and tried to keep his distractions to a dull roar as the rest of my kids attempted to solicit food from me. Last year, the third grade teachers must have plied them with food for the duration of the testing session because my students find TAKS to be synonymous with Eat Fest. “Can I have a Jolly Rancher?” “Is there more juice?” “Can I have two bags of pretzels?” “Do you have any gum?” and my personal favorite… “Can we take off our shoes?” Bahr? Are you taking a test or having a party??
I finally got things moving and the grumblers testing. I was just sinking into my rocking chair when…the power went off. Now, we have a skylight instead of a ceiling, so there was really no problem, but a power outage nearly shut down any work I had managed to get started in the last hour. It took a good twenty minutes to convince my students that the world wasn’t ending and that school would not, in fact, be called off. I sighed and looked around to find that my teacher chair had again been commandeered, this time by the child who believes herself a cat.
The students in my class are treated kindly but very firmly and were apparently placed in my room for that reason. They test every rule, regulation and social norm that exist. At home, they are not made to follow directions and at school, their parents make excuses for any of their wrongdoings. Usually, I am able to tease them into behaving or win them over and make them believe that they want to be good. Not today. Today, their true colors, evil twins, and deep seeded souls came out. I’ve never seen them act like this around me all year. Other people? Yes. But not me!
I agitatedly reclaimed my chair while patting Fluffy on the head and turned to find Munchkin finished with his test, wearing the frog sticker from his pretzel bag prominently on his forehead. I snatched his test from him and grumpily sent him to the “done” room.
The rest of the day went much the same as I saved one of my best students from a tragic breakdown when he burst into flames of stress and decided he would never finish on time and he was going to fail fourth grade. I took him outside and reassured him until he felt able to finish the test. I’ve never seen this kid cry, ever. TAKS does funny things to us all. The afternoon found me defending myself when a kid discovered that their desk could make a whizzpopper-like squeak and all the kids stared at me. Me! The teacher who has not cropdusted them in months. Honestly, there is no trust.
And after all that, guess who got “chosen” to give the make up tests tomorrow?? Me!! Little ‘ol me. I’m going to hook myself up with a laptop and go to town. At least I’ll only have 5 kids and some tests. Going to bed now…
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Innovative Munchies
Dear Room Mom,
I'm really sorry that you forgot to send the note requesting help from the other parents. I realize that putting together snacks for all of the kids in my class to have during the test is time consuming and expensive. I'm certain the other parents would have been glad to help out had they received the letter sooner than the day before the test.
However, in the future, we would be more appreciative if you did not take creative liberties with our list of appropriate snack items. See, when we listed that we would like pretzels for the kids to eat, we didn't really mean candy necklaces. Candy necklaces, while asthetically pleasing, are a) against Texas food law in schools, and b) moderately distracting. It seems when kids have candy affixed to their neck, that it's a lot more interesting than actually attending to the test.
Also, the part of the list that said "grapes"? That really meant that we wanted the kids to have grapes for the snack. I suppose it's understandable that you mistakenly picked up vampire teeth candy instead of grapes, but in the future your attention to detail would be greatly appreciated.
Since we team teach, we often share children as needed to best meet each child's needs. When your child was put in the other classroom, that was not actually "on purpose so she couldn't have the cool snacks." In reality, we were unable to serve your innovative munchies to any of the children, as they were ridiculously inappropriate. However, your child did manage to abscond with several packs of carrots and ranch dressing at the close of school today, so perhaps that will help to heal her damaged psyche.
Lastly, the TAKS test is a significant event which is important to our school, the students, and most parents. It is neither an All Day Eat Fest, nor a "Day 'O Fun". It's very serious and we need your cooperation. If you could adhere to our instructions on future occasions, we would be most grateful. We will save the full sized Nestle Crunch bars, the Sponge Bob Squarepants toys and the 10 Jolly Ranchers per student for a later occasion.
Thanks for all of your support! Together, we can help your child achieve their greatest potential.
Sincerely,
Mrs.
I'm really sorry that you forgot to send the note requesting help from the other parents. I realize that putting together snacks for all of the kids in my class to have during the test is time consuming and expensive. I'm certain the other parents would have been glad to help out had they received the letter sooner than the day before the test.
However, in the future, we would be more appreciative if you did not take creative liberties with our list of appropriate snack items. See, when we listed that we would like pretzels for the kids to eat, we didn't really mean candy necklaces. Candy necklaces, while asthetically pleasing, are a) against Texas food law in schools, and b) moderately distracting. It seems when kids have candy affixed to their neck, that it's a lot more interesting than actually attending to the test.
Also, the part of the list that said "grapes"? That really meant that we wanted the kids to have grapes for the snack. I suppose it's understandable that you mistakenly picked up vampire teeth candy instead of grapes, but in the future your attention to detail would be greatly appreciated.
Since we team teach, we often share children as needed to best meet each child's needs. When your child was put in the other classroom, that was not actually "on purpose so she couldn't have the cool snacks." In reality, we were unable to serve your innovative munchies to any of the children, as they were ridiculously inappropriate. However, your child did manage to abscond with several packs of carrots and ranch dressing at the close of school today, so perhaps that will help to heal her damaged psyche.
Lastly, the TAKS test is a significant event which is important to our school, the students, and most parents. It is neither an All Day Eat Fest, nor a "Day 'O Fun". It's very serious and we need your cooperation. If you could adhere to our instructions on future occasions, we would be most grateful. We will save the full sized Nestle Crunch bars, the Sponge Bob Squarepants toys and the 10 Jolly Ranchers per student for a later occasion.
Thanks for all of your support! Together, we can help your child achieve their greatest potential.
Sincerely,
Mrs.
Monday, April 18, 2005
Whining and Babies and Bandaids, Oh My!
Have you ever noticed that on the days you most need exercise, it rains? My aversion to gyms makes me dependent on the weather for my exercise needs. I'm supposed to have a tennis match tonight - which I desperately need after my day with the crazy people - but it's windy and threatening to rain. The crazy adults of today were compounded by the onslaught of crazy kids. Crazy kids who have TAKS tomorrow and Wednesday and don't know how to express their obvious anxiety in any other way than:
1. Acting like they're five years old:
"Mrs! [emphatic whine] I need heeeellllllp with this te-est!"
Though they were able to answer 5 question AR tests just fine Friday, today they were suddenly inept. Odd.
2. Showing people that they think they're five years old:
Plunk! [ten year old sits in my lap]
Me: What are you doing?
Kid: [smile, lean, baby talk] I don't kno-ow!
Me: Get off....honey. [gentle shove]
3. Regressing in language skills:
Kid: Me can't find book!
Me: [stare]
Kid: Book go bye bye!
Me: [glare, plus eyebrow]
Kid: Help find book?
Me: [withering glance over shoulder as leave]
4. Being completely repulsive:
Kid: Mrs! He's putting his used bandaid in my face!
Me: Sick! [lean toward Bandaid Boy] Stop it, that's gross.
BB: Look! My scab came off!
5. Being waaaay too panicked and emotional:
Kid: Mrs! I have to go to the library! [darty eyes, flushed face]
Me: You can go. [smile]
Kid: But I left my library card at home and the librarian said if I did it again I couldn't get out books and I'm not going to pay two dollars for a new one because I know I have it at home I just can't remember and I need books because my goals are due today and I still have to take a test and I'm going to fail!
Me: Breathe. [I put a green dot on her hand.] There, that's your reminder to bring your card tomorrow.
Kid: But my parents don't let me write on my hands and I still don't have any books and I don't know how I'm going to get any todaaaaaay! [Stares at dot]
Me: Breathe. I promise the librarian will let you get books. Just show her your dot.
Kid: But she won't know what it's for and what if she doesn't believe me?
Etc. (This one really went on for a while before I convinced her that she wasn't going to fail, get grounded or get yelled at.)
Do you see what this crazy test does to these kids?? They're out of their minds today! Oh, and two threw up. This over the top Texas testing is really great for kids, huh? They might have ulcers, act like they're five, and have random, unexplained nausea, but don't you worry! There's No Child Left Behind here! (snicker)
1. Acting like they're five years old:
"Mrs! [emphatic whine] I need heeeellllllp with this te-est!"
Though they were able to answer 5 question AR tests just fine Friday, today they were suddenly inept. Odd.
2. Showing people that they think they're five years old:
Plunk! [ten year old sits in my lap]
Me: What are you doing?
Kid: [smile, lean, baby talk] I don't kno-ow!
Me: Get off....honey. [gentle shove]
3. Regressing in language skills:
Kid: Me can't find book!
Me: [stare]
Kid: Book go bye bye!
Me: [glare, plus eyebrow]
Kid: Help find book?
Me: [withering glance over shoulder as leave]
4. Being completely repulsive:
Kid: Mrs! He's putting his used bandaid in my face!
Me: Sick! [lean toward Bandaid Boy] Stop it, that's gross.
BB: Look! My scab came off!
5. Being waaaay too panicked and emotional:
Kid: Mrs! I have to go to the library! [darty eyes, flushed face]
Me: You can go. [smile]
Kid: But I left my library card at home and the librarian said if I did it again I couldn't get out books and I'm not going to pay two dollars for a new one because I know I have it at home I just can't remember and I need books because my goals are due today and I still have to take a test and I'm going to fail!
Me: Breathe. [I put a green dot on her hand.] There, that's your reminder to bring your card tomorrow.
Kid: But my parents don't let me write on my hands and I still don't have any books and I don't know how I'm going to get any todaaaaaay! [Stares at dot]
Me: Breathe. I promise the librarian will let you get books. Just show her your dot.
Kid: But she won't know what it's for and what if she doesn't believe me?
Etc. (This one really went on for a while before I convinced her that she wasn't going to fail, get grounded or get yelled at.)
Do you see what this crazy test does to these kids?? They're out of their minds today! Oh, and two threw up. This over the top Texas testing is really great for kids, huh? They might have ulcers, act like they're five, and have random, unexplained nausea, but don't you worry! There's No Child Left Behind here! (snicker)
I'm a Touch Southern
Well, this oughtta make mom happy. Looks like those five years in Ohio didn't hurt me too badly.
How do you rank?
Your Linguistic Profile: |
55% General American English |
35% Dixie |
5% Midwestern |
5% Upper Midwestern |
0% Yankee |
How do you rank?
Saturday, April 16, 2005
It Was an Accident. By Gus.
Dear Friends of Mom and Dad:
It's me, Gus the Beagle, here and mom says I gotta write an apology note for what happened. You know, before? When I came over to your house to meet your dogs earlier today, I know that all of that was for my own future comfort. You wanted me to feel welcome and unafraid when I stay with you in a couple of weeks when Mom and Dad go out of town. I know all that and I certainly do appreciate it. Y'all are right nice people.
See, I really didn't mean to misbehave at your house. I started out acting shy and demure so that you would see that I really am an extra nice dog. I am truly a joy to babysit. But when I saw that rabbit though...I just can't explain what happens to me! It makes me crazy, man! I can hear mom saying no, but all I know is I just gotta have that rabbit! I get possessed! Plus, you got to see how fast I can run. Pretty fast, huh?
And then, I didn't really mean to dig under your fence like that. Mom told me on the way home that was bad manners and I'm gonna try real hard not to do that when I go back. It's just...I knew that rabbit was over there! Ooooh, I could smell his rabbity goodness!
(Sigh) Okay, but what I'm most sorry about was what happened right before Mom made me leave. I just lost control of myself, I did. *head hung in shame* When that second rabbit appeared right at the bottom of your yard? I knew I didn't have a chance, 'cause he was a fast 'ol rabbit, but I tried, I tried real real hard to get him. But then...then....I remembered where he came from. And...and I went right over to that bunny nest and stuck my snout down inside it. I wasn't even thinking with my brain, I was just out of control! I had the bunny scent up in my nose! I just can't be good when that happens! I heard Mom screamin', but I still couldn't drop that baby bunny. I just thought he was a toy. [If y'all could get this darned instinct removed from me, this would all be a lot easier!]
I'm sorry that Mom had to pry my jaws open and release the bunny. I'm real, real sorry that I still wanted to get after it even when it was writhing in pain and hurt there in the grass. I just couldn't help myself, I guess. But I'm most sorry that Mr. Dan had to break his little neck to put him out of his misery. I never, ever, ever meant to put y'all through that. *head resting on paws* I feel right bad about it now, I do.
Anyway, I just hope that you'll still have me. I promise to be on my top-notch, beagletastic, best behavior. I won't hurt anything or, you know, bite at it or anything. I won't even sniff! Well, maybe some sniffing, just to make sure y'all are safe and all. But no more rabbits! No, sirree! I have sworn off of that. I just feel horrible about doing that the first time I came over. Mom was just real, real embarrassed. In fact, she won't even feed me until I finish this apology! (And let me tell you - I am STARVED. Do you know how much energy it takes to get after one of them rabbits?? They are FAST, let me tell you!) Ahem.
So in closing, I was wrong and I hope you can find it in your hearts to babysit for me. Please? *Puppy dog eyes*
Licks and cuddles,
Augustus Mortimer
It's me, Gus the Beagle, here and mom says I gotta write an apology note for what happened. You know, before? When I came over to your house to meet your dogs earlier today, I know that all of that was for my own future comfort. You wanted me to feel welcome and unafraid when I stay with you in a couple of weeks when Mom and Dad go out of town. I know all that and I certainly do appreciate it. Y'all are right nice people.
See, I really didn't mean to misbehave at your house. I started out acting shy and demure so that you would see that I really am an extra nice dog. I am truly a joy to babysit. But when I saw that rabbit though...I just can't explain what happens to me! It makes me crazy, man! I can hear mom saying no, but all I know is I just gotta have that rabbit! I get possessed! Plus, you got to see how fast I can run. Pretty fast, huh?
And then, I didn't really mean to dig under your fence like that. Mom told me on the way home that was bad manners and I'm gonna try real hard not to do that when I go back. It's just...I knew that rabbit was over there! Ooooh, I could smell his rabbity goodness!
(Sigh) Okay, but what I'm most sorry about was what happened right before Mom made me leave. I just lost control of myself, I did. *head hung in shame* When that second rabbit appeared right at the bottom of your yard? I knew I didn't have a chance, 'cause he was a fast 'ol rabbit, but I tried, I tried real real hard to get him. But then...then....I remembered where he came from. And...and I went right over to that bunny nest and stuck my snout down inside it. I wasn't even thinking with my brain, I was just out of control! I had the bunny scent up in my nose! I just can't be good when that happens! I heard Mom screamin', but I still couldn't drop that baby bunny. I just thought he was a toy. [If y'all could get this darned instinct removed from me, this would all be a lot easier!]
I'm sorry that Mom had to pry my jaws open and release the bunny. I'm real, real sorry that I still wanted to get after it even when it was writhing in pain and hurt there in the grass. I just couldn't help myself, I guess. But I'm most sorry that Mr. Dan had to break his little neck to put him out of his misery. I never, ever, ever meant to put y'all through that. *head resting on paws* I feel right bad about it now, I do.
Anyway, I just hope that you'll still have me. I promise to be on my top-notch, beagletastic, best behavior. I won't hurt anything or, you know, bite at it or anything. I won't even sniff! Well, maybe some sniffing, just to make sure y'all are safe and all. But no more rabbits! No, sirree! I have sworn off of that. I just feel horrible about doing that the first time I came over. Mom was just real, real embarrassed. In fact, she won't even feed me until I finish this apology! (And let me tell you - I am STARVED. Do you know how much energy it takes to get after one of them rabbits?? They are FAST, let me tell you!) Ahem.
So in closing, I was wrong and I hope you can find it in your hearts to babysit for me. Please? *Puppy dog eyes*
Licks and cuddles,
Augustus Mortimer
Friday, April 15, 2005
A Public Rant.
Why are some people just difficult? And mean just for the sake of being mean? As a sport, even. I don't see why it's necessary to purposefully do things to make life complicated for others. I don't understand why some people are so insecure about themselves that they must a) blame other people for problems which they created, or b) put other people down to make themselves feel better. Con-stant-ly. And, AND! Do people not understand when you tell them something that it's rude and inappropriate to repeat it to another party whom it may have concerned? Has anyone in the teaching world ever heard of discretion? EVER?! Why is it that some people just live for the opportunity to revel in someone else's discomfort. You know those people who never think twice about saying something hurtful or putting someone on the spot in front of other people? People who pick fights and then argue - loudly - while everyone else sits there are squirms uncomfortably? Okay, I squirm. I am apparently the only one truly bothered by this cruel immaturity. Why can't people just be nice to each other and get along? How HARD is that?! We are examples to children. It is INAPPROPRIATE to come into someone's classroom and talk to them like a dog in front of children! You just don't do that! Go buy some common sense! I refuse to have any part of being team leader on my maniacly dysfuncunctional team next year should I be asked as rumor has it. Refuse.
That's all I have to say about that. Thanks for listening. That will be all.
That's all I have to say about that. Thanks for listening. That will be all.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Can't see the lines, can ya Russ?
First, let's just say that I rock! I'm happy as a lark over my summative evaluation. Apparently, my cheesy answers on my self report got me somewhere afterall. I, When Pigs Sing, am on file as an exemplary teacher. That's right! Me. I will stop talking about it now because if you don't teach, this really doesn't mean very much to you. (but before I stop, my favorite comment said, "You are a model for all to observe...the reading/writing workshop is a model in your classroom." Isn't that fabulous?) (I can't stop, really. You know why? Because my second favorite comment was, "Your sharp mind and wit contribute to the learning of your students." Heee! My sarcasm has been justified at last!!!) Okay, really really stopping now.
In other news today, I drank a big glass of milk. This wouldn't seem such a big deal if I hadn't become somewhat lactose intolerant since I met Mike. You see, he is rather...sensitive to milk, so I haven't been drinking it as much and somehow I have regressed in my own perfectly fine tolerance. This is all a very nice way of saying I have wicked-nasty gas. I've been whizzpopping all over the place and I'm about to run myself out of the house. I thought I'd share. ( I may have just run off a whole mess of readers in one fell swoop with that one, but if you're going to stick around, you're going to enjoy my love of anything bathroom.)
Say, did I mention that I am "adept at asking high level questions and do an excellent job of modeling the thinking and writing process"? Cause apparently I am! *butterchurn dance* I promise you I am normally not quite this self-absorbed. Always somewhat self-absorbed, but this is over the top, I admit.
Took a half day today and went back to the cardiologist for my echocardiogram. It was big fun! That machine is really awesome! I got to see my heart on the screen and I asked about fifty questions until the technician finally told me that she couldn't interpret the test, she was only administering it. In other words, "be quiet and let me do my job." I then quietly watched the neat moving picture of my heart on the screen in awe. I only asked one other question about what the colors meant and other than that was a model patient.
My day is ending on a sour note. I generally consider myself to be a really good speller, but I found this spelling quiz today and really disappointed myself. I only got 19 out of 23. My score really brought me down off my high horse about my evaluation, I tell you. Bummer.
In other news today, I drank a big glass of milk. This wouldn't seem such a big deal if I hadn't become somewhat lactose intolerant since I met Mike. You see, he is rather...sensitive to milk, so I haven't been drinking it as much and somehow I have regressed in my own perfectly fine tolerance. This is all a very nice way of saying I have wicked-nasty gas. I've been whizzpopping all over the place and I'm about to run myself out of the house. I thought I'd share. ( I may have just run off a whole mess of readers in one fell swoop with that one, but if you're going to stick around, you're going to enjoy my love of anything bathroom.)
Say, did I mention that I am "adept at asking high level questions and do an excellent job of modeling the thinking and writing process"? Cause apparently I am! *butterchurn dance* I promise you I am normally not quite this self-absorbed. Always somewhat self-absorbed, but this is over the top, I admit.
Took a half day today and went back to the cardiologist for my echocardiogram. It was big fun! That machine is really awesome! I got to see my heart on the screen and I asked about fifty questions until the technician finally told me that she couldn't interpret the test, she was only administering it. In other words, "be quiet and let me do my job." I then quietly watched the neat moving picture of my heart on the screen in awe. I only asked one other question about what the colors meant and other than that was a model patient.
My day is ending on a sour note. I generally consider myself to be a really good speller, but I found this spelling quiz today and really disappointed myself. I only got 19 out of 23. My score really brought me down off my high horse about my evaluation, I tell you. Bummer.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
"We Licked Our Hands"
Just to state for the record: Kids are gnarly critters. Nasty, vulgar, foul vermin. I like ‘em a whole bunch, but BOY are they gross.
Last night, I played in a kickball game for charity that our school does every year. It raised over $500 for Relay for Life, which was pretty cool. The teachers play against the 5th grade. It’s a ton of fun and the kids love to see us make fools of ourselves.
My highlight was catching the fly ball of my favorite kid from last year, the kid who used to antagonize me during our Friday recess kickball games for not being able to catch a “hard ball.” Caught his! It was great! One of my proudest moments for sure. I gloated like a champ. I think I’m going to mention it to him every day until he departs for middle school. My stats included a triple which I kicked so far past 3rd base that the kids had to climb up in some playground equipment to get it, a single, and I caught 3 fly balls for 3 outs. Yeah! I rock! I love stuff like that. All merry and rosy and feel-good so far, right?
Well, at the end of the game, we did the traditional “good game…good game…good game…” high five line. The kids were polite, they smiled, even laughed while we congratulated one another! What good sports! I was so proud. We got all the way through the line and the last kid in the line was proudly reporting one last game stat to each teacher he slapped hands with: “We licked our hands…we licked our hands…we licked our hands…” The fifth grade howled with laughter. We stood uncomfortably and tried not to touch our hands.
Is that not sick? What on earth would make an entire 125 kid grade level PLAN such a weird plot? Why?!
...I guess it would’ve been funny if I had done it.
Last night, I played in a kickball game for charity that our school does every year. It raised over $500 for Relay for Life, which was pretty cool. The teachers play against the 5th grade. It’s a ton of fun and the kids love to see us make fools of ourselves.
My highlight was catching the fly ball of my favorite kid from last year, the kid who used to antagonize me during our Friday recess kickball games for not being able to catch a “hard ball.” Caught his! It was great! One of my proudest moments for sure. I gloated like a champ. I think I’m going to mention it to him every day until he departs for middle school. My stats included a triple which I kicked so far past 3rd base that the kids had to climb up in some playground equipment to get it, a single, and I caught 3 fly balls for 3 outs. Yeah! I rock! I love stuff like that. All merry and rosy and feel-good so far, right?
Well, at the end of the game, we did the traditional “good game…good game…good game…” high five line. The kids were polite, they smiled, even laughed while we congratulated one another! What good sports! I was so proud. We got all the way through the line and the last kid in the line was proudly reporting one last game stat to each teacher he slapped hands with: “We licked our hands…we licked our hands…we licked our hands…” The fifth grade howled with laughter. We stood uncomfortably and tried not to touch our hands.
Is that not sick? What on earth would make an entire 125 kid grade level PLAN such a weird plot? Why?!
...I guess it would’ve been funny if I had done it.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Have You Whizzpopped Today?
Today was hilarious. Even for a Tuesday. It was just one of those days where funny things kept happening around me for my enjoyment. I love days like that, when the powers in the universe work to keep me amused.
A clip from my BFG Literature Circle today follows. (Big Friendly Giant, by Roald Dahl. BFG is a character who speaks in half made up words and incorrect grammar, is very funny.)
Students discussing the novel:
“What’s a whizzpopper? The BFG keeps saying it and I don’t get it.” Everyone knows this kid. The one that’s a little slow on the uptake. Sometimes you have to explain jokes to them before they laugh.
[stifled giggles, furtive glances at me to see if I get it. I do. I wait.]
Dignified girl answers, “Well, it’s basically when a giant….” (fleeting look of panic at me. I smile winningly and nod to encourage her. I can barely contain my own giggles.) “A giant, you know…the bubbles from the frobscottle [translation: BFG soda] go down instead of up, so instead of burping, he…you know! [whispers and jerks head in my direction] has gas!” she hissed, turning bright red.
“Yep! That’s exactly what it means!” I grinned, waiting for the onslaught of hysteria that occurs every year at this exact point in the book. They tentatively giggled until they saw that it really was okay with me, and then launched into full on hysterics right on schedule. We had fun with that for a few minutes, the kids oblivious to my love of toilet humor, and then I prepared to move on. Or so I intended.
“Hey!” A little girl leaned directly toward me and stared me right in the eyes. “Have you whizzpopped today?” Big toothy grin loomed in front of me and the other kids turned my way to see if I had, in fact, whizzpopped today.
I….um...what? Well, this was certainly unexpected. This was not how this reading group usually went. I fumbled with my necklace and “heh, heh-ed” a few times before clearing my throat. “Why, no, actually I haven’t today, thanks for asking,” I stumbled.
“Girls don’t do that,” explained the Dignified One prissily, sitting up straight.
“I do!” exclaimed the Curious One. I edged my chair away from her, then hastily tried to get the meeting back on track as my partner walked in to see what we were up to.
“Ooh! I have a connection to that!” exclaimed another student. Oh, good! They were supposed to make connections from the text to their life or the world when reading. This would get things back on track. I nodded my head and pointed to her enthusiastically.
“Have you seen that movie? The one where they’re playing a drinking game and-”
I did a double take. Hold up. Did that ten year old girl just say “drinking game”? I turned to my partner to find her eyes as bugged as my own. I tuned back in. This was clearly going to be good.
“and after the guy has to drink a bunch of times, it makes him fart? Remember that? It’s like the giant in the book!” She smiles in a grandiose fashion and leans back in anticipation of the accolades she will surely receive for such an astute connection. I stare. My partner stares. Most of the kids stare except for the one that’s in his nose and isn’t listening anyway. There was a long pause. I cleared my throat. My partner coughed into her hand to stifle a laugh.
“Let’s move on,” I suggested. I pointed to the next student to start their conversation and hoped for the best. We chatted for five or ten minutes happily and I began to relax. Suddenly the nosepicker looked up from his mining project.
“Mrs.? What’s a drinking game?” I love how my job is never boring!
A clip from my BFG Literature Circle today follows. (Big Friendly Giant, by Roald Dahl. BFG is a character who speaks in half made up words and incorrect grammar, is very funny.)
Students discussing the novel:
“What’s a whizzpopper? The BFG keeps saying it and I don’t get it.” Everyone knows this kid. The one that’s a little slow on the uptake. Sometimes you have to explain jokes to them before they laugh.
[stifled giggles, furtive glances at me to see if I get it. I do. I wait.]
Dignified girl answers, “Well, it’s basically when a giant….” (fleeting look of panic at me. I smile winningly and nod to encourage her. I can barely contain my own giggles.) “A giant, you know…the bubbles from the frobscottle [translation: BFG soda] go down instead of up, so instead of burping, he…you know! [whispers and jerks head in my direction] has gas!” she hissed, turning bright red.
“Yep! That’s exactly what it means!” I grinned, waiting for the onslaught of hysteria that occurs every year at this exact point in the book. They tentatively giggled until they saw that it really was okay with me, and then launched into full on hysterics right on schedule. We had fun with that for a few minutes, the kids oblivious to my love of toilet humor, and then I prepared to move on. Or so I intended.
“Hey!” A little girl leaned directly toward me and stared me right in the eyes. “Have you whizzpopped today?” Big toothy grin loomed in front of me and the other kids turned my way to see if I had, in fact, whizzpopped today.
I….um...what? Well, this was certainly unexpected. This was not how this reading group usually went. I fumbled with my necklace and “heh, heh-ed” a few times before clearing my throat. “Why, no, actually I haven’t today, thanks for asking,” I stumbled.
“Girls don’t do that,” explained the Dignified One prissily, sitting up straight.
“I do!” exclaimed the Curious One. I edged my chair away from her, then hastily tried to get the meeting back on track as my partner walked in to see what we were up to.
“Ooh! I have a connection to that!” exclaimed another student. Oh, good! They were supposed to make connections from the text to their life or the world when reading. This would get things back on track. I nodded my head and pointed to her enthusiastically.
“Have you seen that movie? The one where they’re playing a drinking game and-”
I did a double take. Hold up. Did that ten year old girl just say “drinking game”? I turned to my partner to find her eyes as bugged as my own. I tuned back in. This was clearly going to be good.
“and after the guy has to drink a bunch of times, it makes him fart? Remember that? It’s like the giant in the book!” She smiles in a grandiose fashion and leans back in anticipation of the accolades she will surely receive for such an astute connection. I stare. My partner stares. Most of the kids stare except for the one that’s in his nose and isn’t listening anyway. There was a long pause. I cleared my throat. My partner coughed into her hand to stifle a laugh.
“Let’s move on,” I suggested. I pointed to the next student to start their conversation and hoped for the best. We chatted for five or ten minutes happily and I began to relax. Suddenly the nosepicker looked up from his mining project.
“Mrs.? What’s a drinking game?” I love how my job is never boring!
My Happy Pills
The smell of Subway
Listening to waves
A fresh Coke
Naming things
Sauteed mushrooms
Having my hair brushed
Water noodles
Making a plant grow
Crayons
Laying out with a book with my chair in the ocean
A good sharp pencil
Melted cheese
Getting mail with handwriting and a stamp
Racking up at a good sale
The smell of a new plastic raft
Leisurely naps
Nailing a volley
Gus' velvet ears
Listening to waves
A fresh Coke
Naming things
Sauteed mushrooms
Having my hair brushed
Water noodles
Making a plant grow
Crayons
Laying out with a book with my chair in the ocean
A good sharp pencil
Melted cheese
Getting mail with handwriting and a stamp
Racking up at a good sale
The smell of a new plastic raft
Leisurely naps
Nailing a volley
Gus' velvet ears
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Public Restroom Act #1: The Hover
I was reading about the Queen of Rambles having a traumatic experience with a port-a-potty when I was struck by a memory. A horrific memory. A horrific, embarrassing memory. I stopped breathing for a few moments, sat down, caught my breath and recovered. Then I decided it might make a halfway decent blog post. So here goes.Once upon a time, a handsome prince met a beautiful princess. He begged to court her and she happily agreed. He picked her up in his carriage and whisked her away to a fine candlelight dinner. Well, mostly. Mike and I met in a bar, both aghast that this particular watering hole did not sell Bud Light. We exchanged digits and went out a few nights later to see the classic summer romance There's Something About Mary. It was our next date that was the setting for The Incident. Mike invited me to a parking lot party - with Bud Light - at the local comedy club.
We talked and mingled and had a generally good time. Ever the lady, I tried for as long as possible to give the impression that I don’t actually urinate. Eventually, the Bud Light got the better of me and we strolled over to the port-a-john lines. Now, I spend a great deal of effort avoiding any type of public toilet in general, even at work if I can help it. Port-a-pots are not my forte by any stretch of the imagination. But I had to appear suave and debonair…breezy if you will.
I daintily approached the aromatic blue biohazard and batted my eyes coyly as I entered. Entered the most wretched environment I had ever encountered. My eyes took in my new surroundings with horror. The person before me hadn’t even flushed….wait, this was sick! Where was the flusher? Where were the safety bars? How on earth was I going to do the Hover?
I grimaced and gingerly eased my pants down to a safe midway point, carefully keeping them away from the sludge-covered grime fest on the floor. Lowering myself warily, I attempted the full hover necessary in all public facilities. Turns out balance is a tricky thing in a phone booth sized toilet. I slung an elbow around to the side and balanced myself against the large pipe that led to the…what was that? I was face to rim with a round receptacle. A urinal…bowl? Receiver? I shuddered and turned away. Turned away to face a sea of faces standing in line. And looking through my now open door at me in full Hover, pants in the calf region, elbow slung against pipe.
Those few seconds seemed like months as I tried to wrap my brain around what exactly was going on here. I definitely stopped breathing for longer than the recommended amount of time before I grasped the edge of the door and yanked. Without removing my fingers. I slammed the door full force onto my second knuckle of my middle finger on my right hand. Despite the fact that there is a raised scar to this day, at that moment I felt no pain as I stumbled my way through figuring out the green-turns-to-red security feature on this classy bathroom.
I felt the color drain from my face as I put myself back together, pausing for a moment before leaving my less-than-hygienic environment. Maybe he hadn’t seen anything. Perhaps he was in a stall himself at the time. I held my breath with hope, squirted a massive dollop of hand sanitizer into my palm (no need in catching some infectious bacteria in addition to my public humiliation), and held my head high as I marched through the crowd, not making eye contact with anyone. The story actually ends okay.
After the candlelight dinner, the prince offered the princess his arm and they strolled into the moonlight and lived happily ever after.
Pretty much. I found Mike at the back of all the people waiting for me. He, being more fluent with the port-a-john, had finished long before. He got me an ice cold Bud Light to hold on my now-throbbing finger and I confirmed that he had not, in fact, seen anything without actually revealing what had happened. And then we lived happily ever after.
We talked and mingled and had a generally good time. Ever the lady, I tried for as long as possible to give the impression that I don’t actually urinate. Eventually, the Bud Light got the better of me and we strolled over to the port-a-john lines. Now, I spend a great deal of effort avoiding any type of public toilet in general, even at work if I can help it. Port-a-pots are not my forte by any stretch of the imagination. But I had to appear suave and debonair…breezy if you will.
I daintily approached the aromatic blue biohazard and batted my eyes coyly as I entered. Entered the most wretched environment I had ever encountered. My eyes took in my new surroundings with horror. The person before me hadn’t even flushed….wait, this was sick! Where was the flusher? Where were the safety bars? How on earth was I going to do the Hover?
I grimaced and gingerly eased my pants down to a safe midway point, carefully keeping them away from the sludge-covered grime fest on the floor. Lowering myself warily, I attempted the full hover necessary in all public facilities. Turns out balance is a tricky thing in a phone booth sized toilet. I slung an elbow around to the side and balanced myself against the large pipe that led to the…what was that? I was face to rim with a round receptacle. A urinal…bowl? Receiver? I shuddered and turned away. Turned away to face a sea of faces standing in line. And looking through my now open door at me in full Hover, pants in the calf region, elbow slung against pipe.
Those few seconds seemed like months as I tried to wrap my brain around what exactly was going on here. I definitely stopped breathing for longer than the recommended amount of time before I grasped the edge of the door and yanked. Without removing my fingers. I slammed the door full force onto my second knuckle of my middle finger on my right hand. Despite the fact that there is a raised scar to this day, at that moment I felt no pain as I stumbled my way through figuring out the green-turns-to-red security feature on this classy bathroom.
I felt the color drain from my face as I put myself back together, pausing for a moment before leaving my less-than-hygienic environment. Maybe he hadn’t seen anything. Perhaps he was in a stall himself at the time. I held my breath with hope, squirted a massive dollop of hand sanitizer into my palm (no need in catching some infectious bacteria in addition to my public humiliation), and held my head high as I marched through the crowd, not making eye contact with anyone. The story actually ends okay.
After the candlelight dinner, the prince offered the princess his arm and they strolled into the moonlight and lived happily ever after.
Pretty much. I found Mike at the back of all the people waiting for me. He, being more fluent with the port-a-john, had finished long before. He got me an ice cold Bud Light to hold on my now-throbbing finger and I confirmed that he had not, in fact, seen anything without actually revealing what had happened. And then we lived happily ever after.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Honor the Texas Flag. I pledge allegiance to thee, Texas, one and indivisible.
Don't know if it's teaching about Texas' statehood or what, but occasionally I can admit to things I like about Texas.
1. To blend in, the state troopers drive pickup trucks. This is fairly nifty. They do not have gun racks.
2. Roadkill often takes the form of an armadillo. Takes kind of a while to disintegrate, but is interesting nonetheless.
3. Mexican food is plentiful and always tasty. There are no bad margaritas.
4. Aside from random hailstorms, the weather is lovely. Even when it's 105 degrees, it still beats the cold.
5. People can drive! They use turn signals and check their blindspot. They go 5mph over the speed limit on highways. There is no need to post a minimum speed limit sign. (all of this is void, of course, when it rains.)
Now, there's a list of things I don't like too, but I'm going to be all positive and stuff today. And then I'm going to plan to go to school on Monday and at least teach 44 people in this state that it is, in fact, a state now and no longer a republic. Some people around here seem to believe otherwise....
1. To blend in, the state troopers drive pickup trucks. This is fairly nifty. They do not have gun racks.
2. Roadkill often takes the form of an armadillo. Takes kind of a while to disintegrate, but is interesting nonetheless.
3. Mexican food is plentiful and always tasty. There are no bad margaritas.
4. Aside from random hailstorms, the weather is lovely. Even when it's 105 degrees, it still beats the cold.
5. People can drive! They use turn signals and check their blindspot. They go 5mph over the speed limit on highways. There is no need to post a minimum speed limit sign. (all of this is void, of course, when it rains.)
Now, there's a list of things I don't like too, but I'm going to be all positive and stuff today. And then I'm going to plan to go to school on Monday and at least teach 44 people in this state that it is, in fact, a state now and no longer a republic. Some people around here seem to believe otherwise....
Friday, April 08, 2005
Neck implant conspiracy
Happy 20,038th hit to you! I was planning to celebrate my 20,000th hit, but when I got home from school, it seems that it had gone on without me. Rather anticlimactic, really. It’s a shame, too. I had balloons and noise makers and streamers all ready to go…it was a throw down in the making! Instead, imagine me sitting here at my desk celebrating. I’m going to start with the butterchurn dance.
(pause)
And now we’re going to do the sprinkler!
(pause)
Okay, that’s about all the celebrating necessary for today. We’ll do it again at 50,000. It’s been real.
To commemorate today’s fun event, I will share with you a Top Ten List of my favorite keywords used to reach my blog today:
10. Supposedly or supposably
9. Licefest 2004
8. "Aqua net" bangs
7. "Snake season" east Virginia
6. Orthodontic headgear belches
5. Pictures of yoga downward dog move
4. Stank collarbones
3. Tall stud in "basketball shorts"
2. Inconsequential crevasses
1. Neck implant conspiracy
I’m most curious about the inconsequential crevasses and the neck implant conspiracy. Under what bizarre circumstances would a person need to search for either of those? The person who can come up with the most interesting scenario for either one will be declared the Inconsequential Winner of 20,000th Day! (A coveted title for which many are vying.)
**Note: We are now at 20, 240 as it took me two days to post this. Delightful stuff, that Blogger.
(pause)
And now we’re going to do the sprinkler!
(pause)
Okay, that’s about all the celebrating necessary for today. We’ll do it again at 50,000. It’s been real.
To commemorate today’s fun event, I will share with you a Top Ten List of my favorite keywords used to reach my blog today:
10. Supposedly or supposably
9. Licefest 2004
8. "Aqua net" bangs
7. "Snake season" east Virginia
6. Orthodontic headgear belches
5. Pictures of yoga downward dog move
4. Stank collarbones
3. Tall stud in "basketball shorts"
2. Inconsequential crevasses
1. Neck implant conspiracy
I’m most curious about the inconsequential crevasses and the neck implant conspiracy. Under what bizarre circumstances would a person need to search for either of those? The person who can come up with the most interesting scenario for either one will be declared the Inconsequential Winner of 20,000th Day! (A coveted title for which many are vying.)
**Note: We are now at 20, 240 as it took me two days to post this. Delightful stuff, that Blogger.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Hmmmm.
There's this kid. She's a nice kid. Smart, generally happy, creative. But I think there's other kids inside there. Because she stares at me with squinty mean eyes, pursing her lips and showing her teeth. Then she'll give me a snuggly hug and a cheek nuzzle. Followed by a growl.
She's an odd bird for sure, but very likeable. I like all of her personalities. Some make me laugh and others make me want to take her home and help her get normal. Her parents punish her excessively for the variances in her behavior. Like I said, she's an odd bird. Some days she will only communicate through drawing. Other days she tries to stand in my shadow all day. Once, she came to school and thought herself a horse. All day. Except on the playground sometimes she's a dragon or a cheetah and lunges at people with a shriek.
Today was different. Today she cycled through all of them one after another. She squinty-eyed me, then drew. She hid in a corner with her book, then hugged me, interrupting a reading group. The other kids are used to her and just go along with whatever she's doing that day as long as she's not hurting them. But then she decided that today she was only going to communicate using one word: peeka. Not sure what it means, but she used it as a noun, verb, adjective, and adverb. While hopping squatted on the floor like a frog.
Me: What's wrong? (Look at hopping creature on floor)
Her: Peeka! (staring)
Me: Can you talk to me?
Her: Peekaly Peeka! Peeka! (hop, bounce)
It continued for the rest of my reading groups, quietly when I would look at her. She was content just to peeka beside me and did her work. On the playground, she hopped around for most of the time, drifting in and out of groups of kids.
Wonder what's wrong with her? I want to refer her, but I'm not sure for what.
She's an odd bird for sure, but very likeable. I like all of her personalities. Some make me laugh and others make me want to take her home and help her get normal. Her parents punish her excessively for the variances in her behavior. Like I said, she's an odd bird. Some days she will only communicate through drawing. Other days she tries to stand in my shadow all day. Once, she came to school and thought herself a horse. All day. Except on the playground sometimes she's a dragon or a cheetah and lunges at people with a shriek.
Today was different. Today she cycled through all of them one after another. She squinty-eyed me, then drew. She hid in a corner with her book, then hugged me, interrupting a reading group. The other kids are used to her and just go along with whatever she's doing that day as long as she's not hurting them. But then she decided that today she was only going to communicate using one word: peeka. Not sure what it means, but she used it as a noun, verb, adjective, and adverb. While hopping squatted on the floor like a frog.
Me: What's wrong? (Look at hopping creature on floor)
Her: Peeka! (staring)
Me: Can you talk to me?
Her: Peekaly Peeka! Peeka! (hop, bounce)
It continued for the rest of my reading groups, quietly when I would look at her. She was content just to peeka beside me and did her work. On the playground, she hopped around for most of the time, drifting in and out of groups of kids.
Wonder what's wrong with her? I want to refer her, but I'm not sure for what.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
I'm Crushing Your Head
You'd never think that ending my afternoon with a massive hail storm and tornado warnings could be an improvement upon my day. But then you must consider that my new car was in the uncovered parking lot eight rows back from the nearest entrance of the cardiologist's office where I was leaving my 4:00 appointment. And you should consider that I was leaving at 6:00. You wouldn't think that was so bad unless of course you knew that I had just hitchhiked a ride with a total stranger to my car across the ankle deep puddly parking lot along with an large, hulking man who was proud to be from Texas and had vast knowledge of hailstorm damage. Which he generously shared for ten minutes before our ill-shaven driver in a big black pickup truck complete with gun rack let us out by our cars.
This adventurous ride followed my 23 minute doctor's appointment during which I was strapped to many wires without explanation. My new cardiologist had an uncontrollable twitch remniscent of Woogie from There's Something About Mary. He wore purple glasses and told me that I'm thin exactly 7 times. For this reason and apparently this reason alone, he doesn't believe me to have a heart problem.
All of this was after having waited in the waiting room with no less than six old men for one hour and 37 minutes. Six old men with apparent heart trouble who have perhaps not seen a young person in a decade and had a need for chit chat. One of the gentlemen was named Trusty. I know because it was emblazoned upon his shirt patch.
Just before arriving at this fine establishment, I had to leave school early to make this appointment on time. This requires great cunning and stealth. I tripped over my sandal while trying to surreptitiously slink across the carpool line with my sunglasses on. One of my parents witnessed my public lack of grace and expressed some rather conspicous concern out of her car window while her child waved and audibly called my name in front of the afterschool duty teachers and the assistant principal, by whom I was attempting to sneak.
Even all of this wouldn't have been so discouraging if I hadn't spent another entire day of my life keeping ten year olds quiet so that more testing could commence. Not testing of my kids, but testing of the fifth graders down the hall. Math TAKS Day. So my poor kids had to take yet another test to take advantage of this "classic testing environment." (administrative phrase used to coerce me into thinking this was a jolly good idea.)
It turns out that there are little known side effects to overtesting kids. They start to play games like "I'm Crushing Your Head" and "If You Suck on Your Arm, It'll Leave a Hickey" during the testing process. This, of course, interferes with the sacred and highly honored testing environment precious to my school district.
The hickeys may lead to copious parent phone calls. As a result of this and other touchy subjects on my blog, I will henceforth be known here as When Pigs Sing. From the often uttered "Never teach a pig to sing. It wastes your time and annoys the pig." Just call me Big Chief WhenPigsSing. That'll be me.
Ever tried telling a story backwards before? Leaves you in an awkward little place here at the end. We'll end this little anecdote with my students' favorite story lead: Hi! My name is When Pigs Sing and I'm going to tell you a story about my day.
This adventurous ride followed my 23 minute doctor's appointment during which I was strapped to many wires without explanation. My new cardiologist had an uncontrollable twitch remniscent of Woogie from There's Something About Mary. He wore purple glasses and told me that I'm thin exactly 7 times. For this reason and apparently this reason alone, he doesn't believe me to have a heart problem.
All of this was after having waited in the waiting room with no less than six old men for one hour and 37 minutes. Six old men with apparent heart trouble who have perhaps not seen a young person in a decade and had a need for chit chat. One of the gentlemen was named Trusty. I know because it was emblazoned upon his shirt patch.
Just before arriving at this fine establishment, I had to leave school early to make this appointment on time. This requires great cunning and stealth. I tripped over my sandal while trying to surreptitiously slink across the carpool line with my sunglasses on. One of my parents witnessed my public lack of grace and expressed some rather conspicous concern out of her car window while her child waved and audibly called my name in front of the afterschool duty teachers and the assistant principal, by whom I was attempting to sneak.
Even all of this wouldn't have been so discouraging if I hadn't spent another entire day of my life keeping ten year olds quiet so that more testing could commence. Not testing of my kids, but testing of the fifth graders down the hall. Math TAKS Day. So my poor kids had to take yet another test to take advantage of this "classic testing environment." (administrative phrase used to coerce me into thinking this was a jolly good idea.)
It turns out that there are little known side effects to overtesting kids. They start to play games like "I'm Crushing Your Head" and "If You Suck on Your Arm, It'll Leave a Hickey" during the testing process. This, of course, interferes with the sacred and highly honored testing environment precious to my school district.
The hickeys may lead to copious parent phone calls. As a result of this and other touchy subjects on my blog, I will henceforth be known here as When Pigs Sing. From the often uttered "Never teach a pig to sing. It wastes your time and annoys the pig." Just call me Big Chief WhenPigsSing. That'll be me.
Ever tried telling a story backwards before? Leaves you in an awkward little place here at the end. We'll end this little anecdote with my students' favorite story lead: Hi! My name is When Pigs Sing and I'm going to tell you a story about my day.
Monday, April 04, 2005
Ode to Haloscan
Haloscan, Haloscan, how sweet are thee!
Commenting now is so hassle free.
I skin you in green and paste in your code,
My welcoming blog is your new abode.
You've revived my ego!
Strengthened my pride!
It's all because of you
My writing spirit hasn't died.
All those long nights of posting and banging my head
Are in the past now, my chagrin put to bed.
So, Haloscan thank you! And hip hip hooray!
Thanks to you, we can finally all have our say.
Commenting now is so hassle free.
I skin you in green and paste in your code,
My welcoming blog is your new abode.
You've revived my ego!
Strengthened my pride!
It's all because of you
My writing spirit hasn't died.
All those long nights of posting and banging my head
Are in the past now, my chagrin put to bed.
So, Haloscan thank you! And hip hip hooray!
Thanks to you, we can finally all have our say.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
The Truth, the Whole Truth and Nothing But the Truth.
Just spent a couple hours writing my self report for my summative appraisal for this school year. I hate these things. They're such a strange combination of bragging-but-not-being-cocky. It's a fine line to walk.
Some samples including off-color translations:
1. Describe the approaches you have used to monitor classroom performance and to provide feedback to students regarding their progress in academic skills (TEKS/TAKS objectives).
Aside from district assessments, I enter data from any assessment that I administer to students onto a diagnostic grid created for each assignment or test. This grid is mapped to cluster specific TEKS together which lets me quickly see patterns in individual students, as well as weak areas as a class. I use the classroom trends to guide my mini-lessons and the individual patterns to set up small group instruction. My after school tutoring groups are generally created for students who consistently fall below expectations in multiple areas.
Translation: I grade papers and then decide what to teach. Duh.
2. Describe how you assisted your students who were experiencing serious attendance problems.
I was fortunate to only have one student this year that experienced some health problems which led to many absences from school. Unfortunately, he is a student who has academic needs and was already in my tutoring program. In order to prevent the student from falling behind further, I was regularly in touch with his parents. We had more conferences than would typically be necessary for a student, but the communication was essential for this student’s continued success. I was also able to use my conferencing day during recess to pull him when necessary for reteaching or coaching through catch up work. The extra tutoring during recess allowed him to regain some confidence that he lost when he felt behind in his work. Particularly in composing compositions, our weekly banter let us strike a bond that gave the two of us a connection which enabled him to feel comfortable when it was necessary for him to seek extra help.
Translation: He was out a whole mess of days. My administration still expected him to pass the Test or else I was gonna look bad. I tutored him every free moment I had and nagged his parents to get him in school.
3. Describe your approach in working with students who were failing or in danger of failing.
My approach to working with students who were working below a fourth grade expectation was to develop a personal relationship with the student to create a team. We worked together to overcome difficulties and practice difficult concepts. Student buy-in and motivation is much stronger when they know that I am invested in them and care about them. Through tutoring and reteaching, my needier students were able to make progress and feel successful even with challenging material.
Translation: Heh. Retch. Don't I sounds like a cheeseball? It's all true, but still. Sounds so lame on paper. Had one administrator been in my room more than twice she would know this.... That's all I have to say about that.
Have to go proofread now so I can turn this bad boy in tomorrow. Fun stuff.
Some samples including off-color translations:
1. Describe the approaches you have used to monitor classroom performance and to provide feedback to students regarding their progress in academic skills (TEKS/TAKS objectives).
Aside from district assessments, I enter data from any assessment that I administer to students onto a diagnostic grid created for each assignment or test. This grid is mapped to cluster specific TEKS together which lets me quickly see patterns in individual students, as well as weak areas as a class. I use the classroom trends to guide my mini-lessons and the individual patterns to set up small group instruction. My after school tutoring groups are generally created for students who consistently fall below expectations in multiple areas.
Translation: I grade papers and then decide what to teach. Duh.
2. Describe how you assisted your students who were experiencing serious attendance problems.
I was fortunate to only have one student this year that experienced some health problems which led to many absences from school. Unfortunately, he is a student who has academic needs and was already in my tutoring program. In order to prevent the student from falling behind further, I was regularly in touch with his parents. We had more conferences than would typically be necessary for a student, but the communication was essential for this student’s continued success. I was also able to use my conferencing day during recess to pull him when necessary for reteaching or coaching through catch up work. The extra tutoring during recess allowed him to regain some confidence that he lost when he felt behind in his work. Particularly in composing compositions, our weekly banter let us strike a bond that gave the two of us a connection which enabled him to feel comfortable when it was necessary for him to seek extra help.
Translation: He was out a whole mess of days. My administration still expected him to pass the Test or else I was gonna look bad. I tutored him every free moment I had and nagged his parents to get him in school.
3. Describe your approach in working with students who were failing or in danger of failing.
My approach to working with students who were working below a fourth grade expectation was to develop a personal relationship with the student to create a team. We worked together to overcome difficulties and practice difficult concepts. Student buy-in and motivation is much stronger when they know that I am invested in them and care about them. Through tutoring and reteaching, my needier students were able to make progress and feel successful even with challenging material.
Translation: Heh. Retch. Don't I sounds like a cheeseball? It's all true, but still. Sounds so lame on paper. Had one administrator been in my room more than twice she would know this.... That's all I have to say about that.
Have to go proofread now so I can turn this bad boy in tomorrow. Fun stuff.
Saturday, April 02, 2005
The Conspiracy
How's this for unfortunate? I have neck problems...this problem has been covered at length and then some on this blog. I also have chronic allergy problems which regularly result in the loss of my voice. However. The two have now gotten together in some kind of bizarre game of chase and are causing one another. I think it went like this:
Cough: Okay, I'll trigger some general itchiness and get her going real good!
Neck: Yeah! Then I'll take the brunt of the cough stress. You know she coughs like she's trying to project a lung!
Cough: Yeah! Then...then when she least expects it, why don't you just freak out!
Neck: Yeah, man. That's great. I'll go total spasm on her, then when she has to cough...no dice!
Cough: Then I can finally get that vacation I deserve!
Neck and Cough: Heh, heh, heh....
Or something like that. My three weeks of coughing have put strain on my neck. When I sat up today - sat up! All I did was sit up! - my neck muscles launched into spasm. I just sat up! And now I can't move my head. And I can't cough because it hurts my neck. So here I sit, holding in my coughs and trying not to move my head.
I can never have a nice, normal injury. I hate explaining to people how I hurt myself. It's so humiliating. "Yeah, well, I was laying on the couch you know? Then I sat up." Lame.
Cough: Okay, I'll trigger some general itchiness and get her going real good!
Neck: Yeah! Then I'll take the brunt of the cough stress. You know she coughs like she's trying to project a lung!
Cough: Yeah! Then...then when she least expects it, why don't you just freak out!
Neck: Yeah, man. That's great. I'll go total spasm on her, then when she has to cough...no dice!
Cough: Then I can finally get that vacation I deserve!
Neck and Cough: Heh, heh, heh....
Or something like that. My three weeks of coughing have put strain on my neck. When I sat up today - sat up! All I did was sit up! - my neck muscles launched into spasm. I just sat up! And now I can't move my head. And I can't cough because it hurts my neck. So here I sit, holding in my coughs and trying not to move my head.
I can never have a nice, normal injury. I hate explaining to people how I hurt myself. It's so humiliating. "Yeah, well, I was laying on the couch you know? Then I sat up." Lame.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Dorklicious
Have you ever thought about how much valuable space is taken up in your brain by things you have memorized? Have you ever (recently) played a game of Mario Brothers only to realize you still remember where all of the stupid "hidden" brick-thingies are? Or the short cuts?
I was teaching complete and incomplete sentences back in the fall and trying to explain helping verbs to my kids, something they are no longer required to memorize, and I quickly rattled them off for the kids from my seventh grade memory: am is are was were be been being has have had do does did may might must shall should will would can could. Boy, were they impressed!
"Do it again!" they cheered. Being the Supreme Dork that I am, I proudly recited them again and was immediately spurred into another memorized memory.
"Want to hear the Declaration of Independence?" I geeked. The nodded enthusiastically as only fourth graders can. I really teach fourth grade because I can be nerdrocious and they still think I'm fabulous.
I took a breath, "We hold these truths to be self-evident. That all men endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights. That among these rights are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men deriving their just powers...." That's actually all I remember, but they didn't know the difference and they happily had me off track.
That's when I turbo-dweebed. In front of people. Thank goodness those people were only ten. "Listen to this! I had to learn this in college," I gushed.
"Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of march hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour
Whan zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
Tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the ram his halve cours yronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open ye
(so priketh hem nature in hir corages);
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;
And specially from every shires ende
Of engelond to caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blisful martir for to seke."
Now, let's be honest, I have no idea how to spell all those words, I had to go copy that off the Internet, but I really do still have it memorized. It was a ridiculous tradition at my college that you had to memorize that part of the prologue to the Canterbury Tales to pass British Authors, which we all did. I, unfortunately, had the professor who was actually British and expected perfect British intonation with our recitation. I got a C+ for my accent and an A for my memorization.
I can still tell you every phone number and address I have ever had (kind of a lot). I have all of my credit card and account numbers memorized. I won't even start on the massive volume of camp songs I could sing you. I have passwords and screennames out the ying yang stored up there.
So my point is this: imagine what my brain could really do if it wasn't clogged up with such random, memorized, useless information! I could solve all the world's problems! End hunger and strife! Stop violence and disease! Or at the very least I could remember what time my TV shows come on.
I was teaching complete and incomplete sentences back in the fall and trying to explain helping verbs to my kids, something they are no longer required to memorize, and I quickly rattled them off for the kids from my seventh grade memory: am is are was were be been being has have had do does did may might must shall should will would can could. Boy, were they impressed!
"Do it again!" they cheered. Being the Supreme Dork that I am, I proudly recited them again and was immediately spurred into another memorized memory.
"Want to hear the Declaration of Independence?" I geeked. The nodded enthusiastically as only fourth graders can. I really teach fourth grade because I can be nerdrocious and they still think I'm fabulous.
I took a breath, "We hold these truths to be self-evident. That all men endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights. That among these rights are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men deriving their just powers...." That's actually all I remember, but they didn't know the difference and they happily had me off track.
That's when I turbo-dweebed. In front of people. Thank goodness those people were only ten. "Listen to this! I had to learn this in college," I gushed.
"Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of march hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour
Whan zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
Tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the ram his halve cours yronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open ye
(so priketh hem nature in hir corages);
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;
And specially from every shires ende
Of engelond to caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blisful martir for to seke."
Now, let's be honest, I have no idea how to spell all those words, I had to go copy that off the Internet, but I really do still have it memorized. It was a ridiculous tradition at my college that you had to memorize that part of the prologue to the Canterbury Tales to pass British Authors, which we all did. I, unfortunately, had the professor who was actually British and expected perfect British intonation with our recitation. I got a C+ for my accent and an A for my memorization.
I can still tell you every phone number and address I have ever had (kind of a lot). I have all of my credit card and account numbers memorized. I won't even start on the massive volume of camp songs I could sing you. I have passwords and screennames out the ying yang stored up there.
So my point is this: imagine what my brain could really do if it wasn't clogged up with such random, memorized, useless information! I could solve all the world's problems! End hunger and strife! Stop violence and disease! Or at the very least I could remember what time my TV shows come on.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
