I was teaching a lesson on the Tricks of the Nine, and we needed our scissors. I look over at Joe, who has his scissors very close to his head and see a small clump of hair, unattached, sitting on his forehead. I was beyond upset. This was the letter I received when I sent him to time-out.
"I did something bad and I don't know why I did this. I don't want to end up like a bad kid and I'm verey sorry that I cut my hair. I like school. Its somthing that you could learn from and have fun with people. You could learn reading, since, social studies, math, languge. But I think your the best teacher ever. But Im not happy and either are you."
That's right. I'm not happy, either, Joe.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Funnies
Testing on sight words, Arnulfo comes to the word "upon".
Arnulfo: "Upona"
Me: "What?"
Arnulfo: "Upona. You know, like 'once upona time'?"
Yesterday, while making math posters, I was making my 4x4 when Arnulfo came to me and said, "You forgot your pimples."
"Excuse me!? My WHAT?"
"You know, your pimples. Those black dots in the inside of your eye?"
"Oh! PUPils!"
Gaby: My family and I went to the park and a boy duck was attacking his girlfriend!
Me: Oh no! Did you call the police?
Gaby: No. I thought about it. I just threw bread at his head, instead, and he stopped.
Ebelyn: Look! A karate-chopping Indian! It would be like, "Ooh-oooh-oooh-hi-YA!"
Arnulfo: "Upona"
Me: "What?"
Arnulfo: "Upona. You know, like 'once upona time'?"
Yesterday, while making math posters, I was making my 4x4 when Arnulfo came to me and said, "You forgot your pimples."
"Excuse me!? My WHAT?"
"You know, your pimples. Those black dots in the inside of your eye?"
"Oh! PUPils!"
Gaby: My family and I went to the park and a boy duck was attacking his girlfriend!
Me: Oh no! Did you call the police?
Gaby: No. I thought about it. I just threw bread at his head, instead, and he stopped.
Ebelyn: Look! A karate-chopping Indian! It would be like, "Ooh-oooh-oooh-hi-YA!"
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Tragedy Strikes
I'm tired of the drama of teaching at this kind of school. So far this year: a car accident death, drugs found on students from fourth grade to eighth grade, and, today, news that one of our students was stabbed.
It's frustrating thinking that our students leave to be in that sort of neighborhood and community. And even school isn't a completely safe place.
It's frustrating thinking that our students leave to be in that sort of neighborhood and community. And even school isn't a completely safe place.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Tell A Tale of Cockroaches
In the morning, during centers, Angelie came to me and said, "Miss Sells! I saw a cockroach as big as a dog."
"Where was it?" I said calmly. She pointed to the corner where she sits. I went over and searched for it, but found no cockroach. "Let me know if you see it again."
A few minutes later, Vanessa comes to me and says, "Miss Sells, I swear while I was sitting doing my work, I heard a noise under my desk that sounded like a big bug!" I assumed that Vanessa overheard Angelie's conversation and dramatized a cockroach sound.
"It's okay, Vanessa. It's probably just your imagination."
A few moments later, as I was on the floor with a small group, I see a HUGE COCKROACH scuttling across the floor toward my desk, about two feet from us. "Watch out!" I scream and throw the students aside (as if they were going to be attacked by this cockroach? I don't know). The cockroach runs under my desk. I get up and try to find it to trap it, but it's gone! Poof! I'm a little worried because Mitch told me once that cockroaches can climb walls, so I'm imagining the cockroach in my purse or hanging out in my drawers.
Toward the end of the day, while I was teaching Calendar Math, Angelie begins screaming. "Miss Sells! The cockroach!" I run over there, trying to keep some kind of order (and actually continuing to teach my lesson: "That's right. And why is 65 odd?), and call, "I need a cup!" Well, my students are more interested in seeing the stupid thing than helping me trap it, so I'm calling Daniel out from under his desk, telling Alex that, no, we can't have this cockroach as our class pet, and trying to rein the kids in, while dumping out my cup of dice to use. I put the cup over the cockroach, then, put a cup of beans (I have the strangest thing in my classroom- I know) over it so it couldn't knock the cup over. I was just going to leave it there, but Angelie was obviously a little concerned about having a cockroach so close, so I got a piece of paper and scraped the cup onto it, from underneath. I was going to just pick up the whole thing, but that mutant cockroach was too big, so I ended up having to push it across the floor to the door, on my hands and knees.
I put it right beside the door, where it was pretty hot. A little later, Ebelyn asked where the cockroach was. "Outside, baking" was my answer.
"You mean like muffins?"
Yes, Ebelyn, our cockroach is a muffin baker.
P.S. Rest in peace, giant cockroach. He died under the cup.
"Where was it?" I said calmly. She pointed to the corner where she sits. I went over and searched for it, but found no cockroach. "Let me know if you see it again."
A few minutes later, Vanessa comes to me and says, "Miss Sells, I swear while I was sitting doing my work, I heard a noise under my desk that sounded like a big bug!" I assumed that Vanessa overheard Angelie's conversation and dramatized a cockroach sound.
"It's okay, Vanessa. It's probably just your imagination."
A few moments later, as I was on the floor with a small group, I see a HUGE COCKROACH scuttling across the floor toward my desk, about two feet from us. "Watch out!" I scream and throw the students aside (as if they were going to be attacked by this cockroach? I don't know). The cockroach runs under my desk. I get up and try to find it to trap it, but it's gone! Poof! I'm a little worried because Mitch told me once that cockroaches can climb walls, so I'm imagining the cockroach in my purse or hanging out in my drawers.
Toward the end of the day, while I was teaching Calendar Math, Angelie begins screaming. "Miss Sells! The cockroach!" I run over there, trying to keep some kind of order (and actually continuing to teach my lesson: "That's right. And why is 65 odd?), and call, "I need a cup!" Well, my students are more interested in seeing the stupid thing than helping me trap it, so I'm calling Daniel out from under his desk, telling Alex that, no, we can't have this cockroach as our class pet, and trying to rein the kids in, while dumping out my cup of dice to use. I put the cup over the cockroach, then, put a cup of beans (I have the strangest thing in my classroom- I know) over it so it couldn't knock the cup over. I was just going to leave it there, but Angelie was obviously a little concerned about having a cockroach so close, so I got a piece of paper and scraped the cup onto it, from underneath. I was going to just pick up the whole thing, but that mutant cockroach was too big, so I ended up having to push it across the floor to the door, on my hands and knees.
I put it right beside the door, where it was pretty hot. A little later, Ebelyn asked where the cockroach was. "Outside, baking" was my answer.
"You mean like muffins?"
Yes, Ebelyn, our cockroach is a muffin baker.
P.S. Rest in peace, giant cockroach. He died under the cup.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Remember When?
Way back during my student teaching, my final evaluation given by my master teacher rated my professionalism as my weakness. At the time, I was shocked and rather upset, but now I understand.
Here are some reasons why I am not always professional:
1) I think one of the reasons why I make a good teacher is because I still remember what it's like to be a child. Because of this, I often play on the playground with my students during recess.
2) I tend to shy away from professional clothing because a) it's not comfortable and b) it doesn't allow me to do the activity mentioned above.
3) My lessons are often dramatic, silly, and more than a little creative. My vice principal was in shock when he came into my room and saw me conversing with a white rabbit on my hand (Twinkie).
4) I believe in sarcasm (for the older kids, when appropriate) and humor. Some teachers cannot understand this teaching method.
5) I don't mind sitting on the floor, dressing up, dancing or singing for my students. Whatever keeps their attention!
Here are some reasons why I am not always professional:
1) I think one of the reasons why I make a good teacher is because I still remember what it's like to be a child. Because of this, I often play on the playground with my students during recess.
2) I tend to shy away from professional clothing because a) it's not comfortable and b) it doesn't allow me to do the activity mentioned above.
3) My lessons are often dramatic, silly, and more than a little creative. My vice principal was in shock when he came into my room and saw me conversing with a white rabbit on my hand (Twinkie).
4) I believe in sarcasm (for the older kids, when appropriate) and humor. Some teachers cannot understand this teaching method.
5) I don't mind sitting on the floor, dressing up, dancing or singing for my students. Whatever keeps their attention!
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Beatles Break
"And when the night is cloudy,
There is still a light that shines on me.
Shine until tomorrow.
Let it be."
- John Lennon
There is still a light that shines on me.
Shine until tomorrow.
Let it be."
- John Lennon
Sunday, November 4, 2007
I got a new student last week: Joe. I'm still trying to figure him out. He's relatively intelligent, but also has a slight attitude. I had to send him out of the classroom on his second day. I know, however, that I am wooed him over to the Sells side, because he's been putting Swizzle sticks in my mailbox every day, and I made him laugh (of course, I did- what am I saying? I'm hilarious!).
Karla, my monolingual, has now advanced her vocabulary to "Oh my goodness," "Good morning," "Oh my gosh," "Sit down," "Stand up," "No, me," "No, Miss Sells," and "See you tomorrow". I'm talking with our CPT on Monday about what I should be expecting from her, since technically she's only been in the country for two months or so.
Also, I'm starting a book fair for our school at our local Barnes and Noble. Soooo, any purchases made with a voucher at those Barnes and Noble-s, 10% goes to my school. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that if anyone wants a gift from me for Christmas, it'd better be something purchasable at B&N and you better tell me what it is before December. Deal?
Things are getting annoying with a colleague. I had a dream where my principal, the colleague, and the colleague's mom was watching me teach a math lesson. Someone overheard me telling about the dream and told the colleague that "Erica had a dream about you and your mom" and now he won't let me live it down! Grrrrr... BOYS!
Karla, my monolingual, has now advanced her vocabulary to "Oh my goodness," "Good morning," "Oh my gosh," "Sit down," "Stand up," "No, me," "No, Miss Sells," and "See you tomorrow". I'm talking with our CPT on Monday about what I should be expecting from her, since technically she's only been in the country for two months or so.
Also, I'm starting a book fair for our school at our local Barnes and Noble. Soooo, any purchases made with a voucher at those Barnes and Noble-s, 10% goes to my school. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that if anyone wants a gift from me for Christmas, it'd better be something purchasable at B&N and you better tell me what it is before December. Deal?
Things are getting annoying with a colleague. I had a dream where my principal, the colleague, and the colleague's mom was watching me teach a math lesson. Someone overheard me telling about the dream and told the colleague that "Erica had a dream about you and your mom" and now he won't let me live it down! Grrrrr... BOYS!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Boobies
A must-tell story:
I have invited my monolingual and her live-in cousin to my after-school tutoring. Yesterday was our first day all together, and they had to wait for their sister/cousin to come out of ninth hour so we had some time to ourselves. We were playing a made-up game, and I was very excited because Karla, the monolingual, was using self-initiated English: "Sit, Miss Sells. Come here, Miss Sells. No copy me, Miss Sells." Anyway, I was giving them some orders, like, "Walk fast. Walk SLOOOOOW, Stop!" and one of the orders was "Dance!" So, of course, we all started shaking what our mamas gave us! Karla was beside herself and yelled, "Shake your boobies!"
"What!?" I said, stopping mid-dance, hoping I misheard.
Her slightly slower cousin was quick to repeat, laughingly recalling: "She said, 'shake your boobies', Miss Sells."
Mouth agape, I covered my "boobies" protectively. "Karla!" I reprimanded.
Karla looked slightly confused, then pointed to her butt. "Boobies, no?"
I guess I've referred to the buttocks as "booty" too many times. And you know, "booby" does sound VERY close to "booty." Hmm... enunciation.
As a later note, she was also heard on the playground repeating my catchphrase: "Oh my goodness!"
I have invited my monolingual and her live-in cousin to my after-school tutoring. Yesterday was our first day all together, and they had to wait for their sister/cousin to come out of ninth hour so we had some time to ourselves. We were playing a made-up game, and I was very excited because Karla, the monolingual, was using self-initiated English: "Sit, Miss Sells. Come here, Miss Sells. No copy me, Miss Sells." Anyway, I was giving them some orders, like, "Walk fast. Walk SLOOOOOW, Stop!" and one of the orders was "Dance!" So, of course, we all started shaking what our mamas gave us! Karla was beside herself and yelled, "Shake your boobies!"
"What!?" I said, stopping mid-dance, hoping I misheard.
Her slightly slower cousin was quick to repeat, laughingly recalling: "She said, 'shake your boobies', Miss Sells."
Mouth agape, I covered my "boobies" protectively. "Karla!" I reprimanded.
Karla looked slightly confused, then pointed to her butt. "Boobies, no?"
I guess I've referred to the buttocks as "booty" too many times. And you know, "booby" does sound VERY close to "booty." Hmm... enunciation.
As a later note, she was also heard on the playground repeating my catchphrase: "Oh my goodness!"
Friday, October 19, 2007
Clowns and Mistold Jokes
Well, I've survived through Friday after the week of break! I severely miss that ability to sleep in until whenever I decide to arise (somehow today I set my alarm for 4:00, but woke up at 4:30). Although my week was broken up by a trip to Oklahoma on Tuesday, I still feel exhausted.
Ronald McDonald came to our school yesterday for a "Book Time" Talk. Last year, Mr. McDonald presented on, of all things, physical activity. After the presentation, students were given a coupon for a hamburger. Does something seem wrong here? I can't believe we actually spent an hour of potential instruction time sitting in the cafeteria hearing lame book jokes from a clown. The kids loved it, though.
Last night I went to the board meeting (SnoozeFest), to be there for my friend as she accepted the Teacher of the Month award from our district. Before the presentation of the awards, the board showed a clip of a local news helicopter making a visit to another elementary school in the district. The enthusiastic pilot hopped out and was milling around the crowds. A couple of times, he had pulled students to tell jokes. Here are a couple of funny moments in the video:
Pilot: What's your joke, sweetie?
Little Girl: Why was six afraid of seven?
Pilot: I don't know. Why was six afraid of seven?
Little Girl: Because eight seven nine.
Pilot: And, sir, what's your joke?
Little Boy: Knock, knock.
Pilot: Who's there?
Little Boy: Squarel (that's what it sounded like)
Pilot: Square who?
Little Boy: No! Squarel!!!
Pilot: Oh. SQUARE who?
Little Boy: No! Squarel!!!
Pilot: What?
Little Boy: SQUAREL!
Pilot: SQU-ARE who?
Little Boy: No!!!!!! SQUAREL!!!!
Pilot: Let's move on...
Oh, live television. I THINK the child was trying to say "squirrel", but it's hard to say that word 1) when you're six and 2) when you have a lisp.
Ronald McDonald came to our school yesterday for a "Book Time" Talk. Last year, Mr. McDonald presented on, of all things, physical activity. After the presentation, students were given a coupon for a hamburger. Does something seem wrong here? I can't believe we actually spent an hour of potential instruction time sitting in the cafeteria hearing lame book jokes from a clown. The kids loved it, though.
Last night I went to the board meeting (SnoozeFest), to be there for my friend as she accepted the Teacher of the Month award from our district. Before the presentation of the awards, the board showed a clip of a local news helicopter making a visit to another elementary school in the district. The enthusiastic pilot hopped out and was milling around the crowds. A couple of times, he had pulled students to tell jokes. Here are a couple of funny moments in the video:
Pilot: What's your joke, sweetie?
Little Girl: Why was six afraid of seven?
Pilot: I don't know. Why was six afraid of seven?
Little Girl: Because eight seven nine.
Pilot: And, sir, what's your joke?
Little Boy: Knock, knock.
Pilot: Who's there?
Little Boy: Squarel (that's what it sounded like)
Pilot: Square who?
Little Boy: No! Squarel!!!
Pilot: Oh. SQUARE who?
Little Boy: No! Squarel!!!
Pilot: What?
Little Boy: SQUAREL!
Pilot: SQU-ARE who?
Little Boy: No!!!!!! SQUAREL!!!!
Pilot: Let's move on...
Oh, live television. I THINK the child was trying to say "squirrel", but it's hard to say that word 1) when you're six and 2) when you have a lisp.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Free Falling
Now that I have a week off (hallelujah chorus playing in the background), I have time to do things like... fill out a survey my sister tagged me to complete! Hurray!
4 Jobs I've Held:
1. data entry clerk at my college's admissions
2. tutor at HLC
3. total tool at La Petite Daycare/Preschool
4. test grader for McGraw-Hill
4 Films I Could Watch Again and Again:
1. "So I Married An Axe Murderer?
2. "Amelie"
3. "Bringing Up Baby"
4. "Newsies"
4 TV Shows I Watch:
1. "Beauty and the Geek"
2. "Dancing with the Stars"
3. "The Office"
4. "The Daily Show"/"Steven Colbert" (hey, it's an hour block; I can count it as one show)
4 Places I've Lived:
1. Santa Barbara, CA
2. Rescue, CA
3. Cameron Park, CA
4. Phoenix- Valley of the Sun!
4 Favorite Foods:
1. nachos!!!!! (no beans)
2. ice cream
3. potato pizza from Pizzaria Classico
4. In N Out (ooh, maybe I'll get some today!)
4 Websites I Visit Everyday (not anymore, because I had to cancel my Internet):
1. hungersite.com
2. webmail
3. Scholastic site for printables
4. this
4 Favorite Colors:
1. cranberry
2. midnight blue
3. light blue
4. brown
4 Places I'd Rather Be Right Now:
1. Bookman's, with a lot of cash
2. at home with my mama
3. in Santa Barbara with my amigos
4. touring Europe
4 Names I Like But Wouldn't or Couldn't Use Myself:
1. Graham
2. Samantha (but I have a student this year who has tainted the name)
3. Shabnam (from a friend from grade school, but she had to deal with a lot of mispronunciation)
4. Octavio
4 blogging friends that I'm tagging are:
Megan Haver/Phillips
Lunderwoo
anyone else
4 Jobs I've Held:
1. data entry clerk at my college's admissions
2. tutor at HLC
3. total tool at La Petite Daycare/Preschool
4. test grader for McGraw-Hill
4 Films I Could Watch Again and Again:
1. "So I Married An Axe Murderer?
2. "Amelie"
3. "Bringing Up Baby"
4. "Newsies"
4 TV Shows I Watch:
1. "Beauty and the Geek"
2. "Dancing with the Stars"
3. "The Office"
4. "The Daily Show"/"Steven Colbert" (hey, it's an hour block; I can count it as one show)
4 Places I've Lived:
1. Santa Barbara, CA
2. Rescue, CA
3. Cameron Park, CA
4. Phoenix- Valley of the Sun!
4 Favorite Foods:
1. nachos!!!!! (no beans)
2. ice cream
3. potato pizza from Pizzaria Classico
4. In N Out (ooh, maybe I'll get some today!)
4 Websites I Visit Everyday (not anymore, because I had to cancel my Internet):
1. hungersite.com
2. webmail
3. Scholastic site for printables
4. this
4 Favorite Colors:
1. cranberry
2. midnight blue
3. light blue
4. brown
4 Places I'd Rather Be Right Now:
1. Bookman's, with a lot of cash
2. at home with my mama
3. in Santa Barbara with my amigos
4. touring Europe
4 Names I Like But Wouldn't or Couldn't Use Myself:
1. Graham
2. Samantha (but I have a student this year who has tainted the name)
3. Shabnam (from a friend from grade school, but she had to deal with a lot of mispronunciation)
4. Octavio
4 blogging friends that I'm tagging are:
Megan Haver/Phillips
Lunderwoo
anyone else
Friday, October 5, 2007
Conferencing with Yo Mama
At my school, we have conferences twice a year: at the end of first quarter (this past Wednesday and Thursday) and at the end of third quarter (so we can say, "Sorry, Mrs. Doe, but Johnny needs to repeat third grade").
Out of my twenty-six students, twenty-four showed up for conferences. Though of course we shoot for 100%, I'm pretty proud of this near success. Last year, I was scared to death of conferences. With the child sitting right there next to their mother, looking nervous and frightened, I would have pity last minute and sweeten the sour news. I didn't LIE, per se, but I didn't exactly convey how poorly their child was doing.
I realize now what a disservice that was to both the child and the family. This year, I made a conscious effort to make sure I told the parents exactly where their child was. Here are some highlights from the last two nights:
Me, looking at a silent and somber Arnulfo: Arnulfo, are you okay? You are really quiet.
Arnulfo: I don't like talking in front of people. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Mother: Yeah, she's lazy. Lazy, lazy, lazy. Why do you have to be so lazy?
Mama: I know, she really is a space cadet, isn't she?
Mama2: Why do you have two tardies? I drop you off!
Kid: My teacher made me late.
Me: Excuse me. I'm your teacher, remember? I did NOT make you late.
Me: Make sure she reads every night. Do you read every night, Vanessa?
Vanessa: Welllllllllllllllll........
Me: That's what I thought.
One of my favorite students has only been in the country for a year and a half. Her older brother was translating for me, and the mom had said that she worried about her daughter had trouble listening. I responded and the older brother started translating, but stopped and said, "Wait, what?" I laughed- "Are you sure it's your sister that has trouble listening?" Then, the mother went off in Spanish, and she mentioned something about the brother's listening. She motioned to him to tell me what she had said. I said, "Come on, now. What did you mom just say?" He looked at me, smiled winningly, and said, "That's confidential."
Out of my twenty-six students, twenty-four showed up for conferences. Though of course we shoot for 100%, I'm pretty proud of this near success. Last year, I was scared to death of conferences. With the child sitting right there next to their mother, looking nervous and frightened, I would have pity last minute and sweeten the sour news. I didn't LIE, per se, but I didn't exactly convey how poorly their child was doing.
I realize now what a disservice that was to both the child and the family. This year, I made a conscious effort to make sure I told the parents exactly where their child was. Here are some highlights from the last two nights:
Me, looking at a silent and somber Arnulfo: Arnulfo, are you okay? You are really quiet.
Arnulfo: I don't like talking in front of people. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Mother: Yeah, she's lazy. Lazy, lazy, lazy. Why do you have to be so lazy?
Mama: I know, she really is a space cadet, isn't she?
Mama2: Why do you have two tardies? I drop you off!
Kid: My teacher made me late.
Me: Excuse me. I'm your teacher, remember? I did NOT make you late.
Me: Make sure she reads every night. Do you read every night, Vanessa?
Vanessa: Welllllllllllllllll........
Me: That's what I thought.
One of my favorite students has only been in the country for a year and a half. Her older brother was translating for me, and the mom had said that she worried about her daughter had trouble listening. I responded and the older brother started translating, but stopped and said, "Wait, what?" I laughed- "Are you sure it's your sister that has trouble listening?" Then, the mother went off in Spanish, and she mentioned something about the brother's listening. She motioned to him to tell me what she had said. I said, "Come on, now. What did you mom just say?" He looked at me, smiled winningly, and said, "That's confidential."
Friday, September 28, 2007
Humor
"That was so funny, I can't take off my smile!" - Arnulfo
"Don't call them armpits. We're ladies. Call them underarms. Once they start to get all stinky and nasty, then they're armpits." - Agilita
"Don't call them armpits. We're ladies. Call them underarms. Once they start to get all stinky and nasty, then they're armpits." - Agilita
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
"Suck my balls!"
A day to be reckoned with--- when I came out from my usual fifteen minute lunch, two of my usually well-behaved boys were sitting on the wall. Apparently, they had used their lunch time telling other people to "suck [their] balls!" After a little bit of interviewing (and A LOT of crying), two other boys were singled out as having said it, too. I was VERY disappointed, and wanted them all to call home. I would usually send them to the office so I wouldn't have to repeat such language in front of the rest of my students, but the office was too busy, so I had to do the calling with my cell phone as the rest of the class looked at book orders. Mr. D'Alessio, the vice principal, came by, and scared the boys by asking them, in their face, what they said. Of course, none of the students wanted to tell the vice principal, "suck my balls" so they all looked ashamed. Mr. D said, "I'm guessing, somethign not very nice." They all nodded their heads.
Later, after a lot of phone crying and "Mama! Mama!" I e-mailed Mr. D'Alessio to tell him what exactly had been said. This veteran junior high teacher replied with a "So?"
Later, after a lot of phone crying and "Mama! Mama!" I e-mailed Mr. D'Alessio to tell him what exactly had been said. This veteran junior high teacher replied with a "So?"
Friday, September 21, 2007
"Today was just the poisoning"/ "Imagine a semi..."
This week has been incredible. Now, please, pause and think about what the word "incredible" implies. Unbelievable. Logically impossible. Almost frightening.
Let's begin with Wednesday, when I told the kids that the following day was International Talk Like A Pirate Day. They were very excited about the prospect and showed them how to make hooks with their hand and say, enthusiastically, "Arrrrggghh". Well, poor Arnulfo was making a hook and saying "Arrrgh" a little too enthusiastically while holding his pencil, stabbing himself in the eye, and following his "Arrrgh" with the cry of a wounded animal. He immediately began bauling. His shoulder partner, Angelie, has the seat in the far corner and has to move her chair up to let people pass behind her. She was so enthralled by Arnulfo's crying ("He's really crying Miss Sells") that I had to say, "Angelie! Please move up so Arnulfo can go to the nurse." The kids were saying, "Miss Sells, he's crying! He's really crying!" I had to say calmly, "Well, I would be crying, too, if I stabbed myself in the eye with my pencil while making a pirate hook." After school, he told a first grade teacher that he had stabbed himself in the eye while talking like a pirate. Oh, my!
On Tuesday, we had a serious incident on campus where a seventh grader put sleeping pills in another student's water bottle, causing him to pass out in the nurse's office. The police were, obviously, involved. Out to dinner that evening with my third grade teacher friend and the school librarian, the librarian asked, "Was there another fight today?" thinking he had seen some scuffle on the playground. "No," his wife answered, "Today was just the poisoning." What kind of place do we work at where that comment would be stated!?
Yesterday, two fourth graders picked up a dying pigeon from the playground and took it into my neighbor's classroom while she was teaching math. Any person reading this who really knows me, knows that I have an irrational fear of pigeons. While taking my kids out to computers, these two kids came toward me, grinning, with a scared looking pigeon in their hands saying, "Look what we brought you Miss Sells!" knowing I would freak out. I freaked out. I mean, I REALLY freaked. When one of the fourth graders saw me on my way back to my classroom, he started running toward me screaming "Rabies! Rabies!" (this is an unusual child). Anyway, when I had the chance to talk to him privately after school, our conversation went like this:
Me: "Colbie, what you did today really hurt my feelings. You know that I'm seriously afraid of pigeons, don't you?"
Colbie: "Yes, but why, Miss Sells?"
Me: "It doesn't matter why. People are afraid of things for very different reasons. But it's never okay to make what someone's afraid of into a joke. Are you afraid of anything, Colbie?"
Colbie thinks for a while and then says, "I'm afraid of semis, because once one ran over my arm." (I have no idea if this is true, but I'm guessing a truck did run over his arm once. This kid is just that strange and lives in that sort of neighborhood where something like that could happen.)
Me: "Well, Colbie, how would you feel if I thought that was really funny so I teased you about it. Imagine a semi.... Imagine if I brought a semi in front of your house and waited in front for you, just to scare you."
Colbie's eyes widened. "I wouldn't like that at all, Miss Sells."
Me: "All right. So what do you owe me?"
Colbie: "I'm sorry Miss Sells."
Empathy.
Let's begin with Wednesday, when I told the kids that the following day was International Talk Like A Pirate Day. They were very excited about the prospect and showed them how to make hooks with their hand and say, enthusiastically, "Arrrrggghh". Well, poor Arnulfo was making a hook and saying "Arrrgh" a little too enthusiastically while holding his pencil, stabbing himself in the eye, and following his "Arrrgh" with the cry of a wounded animal. He immediately began bauling. His shoulder partner, Angelie, has the seat in the far corner and has to move her chair up to let people pass behind her. She was so enthralled by Arnulfo's crying ("He's really crying Miss Sells") that I had to say, "Angelie! Please move up so Arnulfo can go to the nurse." The kids were saying, "Miss Sells, he's crying! He's really crying!" I had to say calmly, "Well, I would be crying, too, if I stabbed myself in the eye with my pencil while making a pirate hook." After school, he told a first grade teacher that he had stabbed himself in the eye while talking like a pirate. Oh, my!
On Tuesday, we had a serious incident on campus where a seventh grader put sleeping pills in another student's water bottle, causing him to pass out in the nurse's office. The police were, obviously, involved. Out to dinner that evening with my third grade teacher friend and the school librarian, the librarian asked, "Was there another fight today?" thinking he had seen some scuffle on the playground. "No," his wife answered, "Today was just the poisoning." What kind of place do we work at where that comment would be stated!?
Yesterday, two fourth graders picked up a dying pigeon from the playground and took it into my neighbor's classroom while she was teaching math. Any person reading this who really knows me, knows that I have an irrational fear of pigeons. While taking my kids out to computers, these two kids came toward me, grinning, with a scared looking pigeon in their hands saying, "Look what we brought you Miss Sells!" knowing I would freak out. I freaked out. I mean, I REALLY freaked. When one of the fourth graders saw me on my way back to my classroom, he started running toward me screaming "Rabies! Rabies!" (this is an unusual child). Anyway, when I had the chance to talk to him privately after school, our conversation went like this:
Me: "Colbie, what you did today really hurt my feelings. You know that I'm seriously afraid of pigeons, don't you?"
Colbie: "Yes, but why, Miss Sells?"
Me: "It doesn't matter why. People are afraid of things for very different reasons. But it's never okay to make what someone's afraid of into a joke. Are you afraid of anything, Colbie?"
Colbie thinks for a while and then says, "I'm afraid of semis, because once one ran over my arm." (I have no idea if this is true, but I'm guessing a truck did run over his arm once. This kid is just that strange and lives in that sort of neighborhood where something like that could happen.)
Me: "Well, Colbie, how would you feel if I thought that was really funny so I teased you about it. Imagine a semi.... Imagine if I brought a semi in front of your house and waited in front for you, just to scare you."
Colbie's eyes widened. "I wouldn't like that at all, Miss Sells."
Me: "All right. So what do you owe me?"
Colbie: "I'm sorry Miss Sells."
Empathy.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Musically Deranged
We have a music teacher at our school with a great love for music, but what has been demonstrated as an incompetence with teaching. I happen to have music on Fridays. Well, last week, though the teacher mentioned nothing to me, my students told me that one of my students was playing "guns" with the rhythm sticks. Today, I decided I would stop by about ten minutes into the lesson to see exactly what kind of mayhem my students were causing. First of all, I immediately noticed the sudden change in the atmosphere when I opened the door. If you did not know this, the sight of a teacher (especially their own teacher) stops third graders in their tracks. Several students were looking at me from their seat, others were standing, and ONE was on the floor!
"Is it time already?" asked our obviously senile music teacher.
"No, I just decided to check on them." I stated in my best "I-am-very-upset-right-now" teacher voice.
Since it didn't seem like the teacher was actually in the middle of a lesson, I spoke to several students about sitting correctly in their chair, not touching their neighbors- basically correcting the majority of the misbehavior I was noticing. I pulled Arnulfo, the student who was on the floor when I opened the door, and spoke with him outside.
"What did I tell you before I let you in this classroom?"
"To behave."
"What are you doing now?"
"Not behaving."
"Do you think you'd be able to control yourself if I put you back in there?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure? - because I have no problem with having you set this one out."
"I'm sure."
"If I hear one more thing about your lack of self control, you will NOT want to know me."
"Okay, Miss Sells."
"Do you know what I mean by that?"
"Yes. You'll, well... you'll basically attack me."
(I had to suppress a smile) "That's right. Go back in there."
What do I do with a class of students who will behave with me and the other specials teachers, but not with one? And on a Friday afternoon?! Aaaah!!!
"Is it time already?" asked our obviously senile music teacher.
"No, I just decided to check on them." I stated in my best "I-am-very-upset-right-now" teacher voice.
Since it didn't seem like the teacher was actually in the middle of a lesson, I spoke to several students about sitting correctly in their chair, not touching their neighbors- basically correcting the majority of the misbehavior I was noticing. I pulled Arnulfo, the student who was on the floor when I opened the door, and spoke with him outside.
"What did I tell you before I let you in this classroom?"
"To behave."
"What are you doing now?"
"Not behaving."
"Do you think you'd be able to control yourself if I put you back in there?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure? - because I have no problem with having you set this one out."
"I'm sure."
"If I hear one more thing about your lack of self control, you will NOT want to know me."
"Okay, Miss Sells."
"Do you know what I mean by that?"
"Yes. You'll, well... you'll basically attack me."
(I had to suppress a smile) "That's right. Go back in there."
What do I do with a class of students who will behave with me and the other specials teachers, but not with one? And on a Friday afternoon?! Aaaah!!!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Curb the Cursing
I'm not big on cussing. I'm not one of those people who drop f-bombs on frequent occassions or have a hard time controlling my language around children. However, yesterday, I found myself having to rein it in.
I have to keep reminding myself: These children are only eight years old. They have only been alive for eight years. What do you really expect out of them?
Here's a sample from my day yesterday:
Me: Get out your library book if you have it. If you don't have it, you don't have to tell me.
Several students: I forgot mine at home!
Me: Again, only get out your library book IF YOU HAVE IT. If you forgot it, I don't care.
Several students: I don't have mine!
Me: Listen. Get your library book out. If you don't have it, you don't have it. If you forgot it, okay. Just get it out, if you have it.
Students: I left mine at home!
Me: Library books out. If you don't have it, you don't need to say anything.
(Arnulfo raises his hand)
Me: Yes, Arnulfo
Arnulfo: I don't have mine.
Holy s&*@! In these sort of situations, you can't blame it on the language barrier. You can't say its their home life. They just AREN'T listening! I simply don't have the time or patience to say everything fifteen times.
I have to keep reminding myself: These children are only eight years old. They have only been alive for eight years. What do you really expect out of them?
Here's a sample from my day yesterday:
Me: Get out your library book if you have it. If you don't have it, you don't have to tell me.
Several students: I forgot mine at home!
Me: Again, only get out your library book IF YOU HAVE IT. If you forgot it, I don't care.
Several students: I don't have mine!
Me: Listen. Get your library book out. If you don't have it, you don't have it. If you forgot it, okay. Just get it out, if you have it.
Students: I left mine at home!
Me: Library books out. If you don't have it, you don't need to say anything.
(Arnulfo raises his hand)
Me: Yes, Arnulfo
Arnulfo: I don't have mine.
Holy s&*@! In these sort of situations, you can't blame it on the language barrier. You can't say its their home life. They just AREN'T listening! I simply don't have the time or patience to say everything fifteen times.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
New Student Headache/Blessing
At about 8:30 yesterday morning, there was a slight knock on my door. Outside were two women and a little girl, one of the women holding a pink slip signifying an enrollment. I quickly learned that this particular student spoke no English. She stepped silently into my classroom and grasped my hand desperately as I guided her to her seat. Luckily, I had cleared the desk of a withdrawn student the night before so there was a place for her. Also, this space happened to be next to one of my Spanish-speaking sweethearts who was more than willing to help our new class/family member adjust.
I have forgotten over the summer how taxing it is to have a monolingual in the classroom. Last year, I had two: Jose, a student who was unmotivated and silent, unwilling to participate (he left a month after his enrollment) and Cipriano, one of my all-time favorites (yes, it's true: teachers have favorites). This little boy was set in learning English. He was focused and hardworking; refusing to let others help him by translating. He ended up being able to speak and read English pretty well before his family was forced to leave the area in February. I cried when he left.
This new student, Karla, is absolutely precious. She speaks to me in Spanish frequently: "Maestra! Maestra! Blah blah blah lots of Spanish!" I can understand a lot of what she says, but my personal Spanish word bank is very small. I know the Spanish for my numbers up to 10, party, beans, men, cheese, and a couple of colors. I am pleased she is comfortable enough to talk to me, even if it's not in my native language. Luckily, my kids are quick to come to her aid. It's almost heartbreaking to see her looking up at me with her huge brown eyes and a smile, pointing and asking, "Si, maestra? Si???"
I have forgotten over the summer how taxing it is to have a monolingual in the classroom. Last year, I had two: Jose, a student who was unmotivated and silent, unwilling to participate (he left a month after his enrollment) and Cipriano, one of my all-time favorites (yes, it's true: teachers have favorites). This little boy was set in learning English. He was focused and hardworking; refusing to let others help him by translating. He ended up being able to speak and read English pretty well before his family was forced to leave the area in February. I cried when he left.
This new student, Karla, is absolutely precious. She speaks to me in Spanish frequently: "Maestra! Maestra! Blah blah blah lots of Spanish!" I can understand a lot of what she says, but my personal Spanish word bank is very small. I know the Spanish for my numbers up to 10, party, beans, men, cheese, and a couple of colors. I am pleased she is comfortable enough to talk to me, even if it's not in my native language. Luckily, my kids are quick to come to her aid. It's almost heartbreaking to see her looking up at me with her huge brown eyes and a smile, pointing and asking, "Si, maestra? Si???"
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Sure Are A Lot of Mexicans
I received a new student last week from Arkansas. A child who would likely be a clone of the rest of the class at many schools, this caucasian, blond boy sticks out like a sore thumb in the sea of Hispanic boys and girls in Room 19. Not only that, but he's rather short for his age, and has a slight twangy accent.
On his first week of school, he made the following observations/vocal thoughts:
Me: How do you like it here in Phoenix?
Student: I dunno- There sure are a lot of Mexicans here!
Student: It's so hot here I think I'm sweatin' in places I never sweated at before!
Student: You better lock your doors 'cuz I hear this place has lots of thieves and murderers.
Student: I'm walking home, but I'll be careful because my mom told me that a few years ago a girl was raped and killed on her way home.
Student: In Arkansas, if you don't wear your shoes, you're called a hillbilly!
On his first week of school, he made the following observations/vocal thoughts:
Me: How do you like it here in Phoenix?
Student: I dunno- There sure are a lot of Mexicans here!
Student: It's so hot here I think I'm sweatin' in places I never sweated at before!
Student: You better lock your doors 'cuz I hear this place has lots of thieves and murderers.
Student: I'm walking home, but I'll be careful because my mom told me that a few years ago a girl was raped and killed on her way home.
Student: In Arkansas, if you don't wear your shoes, you're called a hillbilly!
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Potentially rich
Today I've discovered that although I bemoan my financial plight quite often, I could potentially be rich. If I were not so magnetic toward used bookstores and book fairs, I think I might have enough money not to worry too much about whether my bank account could support another trip to the gas station. This weekend, I spent near $100 on children's books alone! Before you scoff at my weakness, let me at least brag about what I was able to purchase with the money:
Copies of:
"Say What?"
"Bodies in the Hotel"
"Andy Russell and the Flying Hamsters"
"The Story of Ferdinand"
"Skippyjon Jones"
"Stephanie's Ponytail" and "The Paper Bag Princess" by Robert Munsch
one copy of every book in the Captain Underpants series (after my students begged me to get more)
"Orwell's Luck"
"Revolutionary War on Wednesday"
"The Giraffe, The Pelly, And Me"
"The Ugly Princess and the Wise Fool"
"A True Taste for Scarlet and Miniver"
and possibly more
My colleague's birthday is on Thursday, so many of the above titles were purchased for the occasion as part of a read-aloud pack.
Copies of:
"Say What?"
"Bodies in the Hotel"
"Andy Russell and the Flying Hamsters"
"The Story of Ferdinand"
"Skippyjon Jones"
"Stephanie's Ponytail" and "The Paper Bag Princess" by Robert Munsch
one copy of every book in the Captain Underpants series (after my students begged me to get more)
"Orwell's Luck"
"Revolutionary War on Wednesday"
"The Giraffe, The Pelly, And Me"
"The Ugly Princess and the Wise Fool"
"A True Taste for Scarlet and Miniver"
and possibly more
My colleague's birthday is on Thursday, so many of the above titles were purchased for the occasion as part of a read-aloud pack.
Monday, August 20, 2007
No P.S.
I have to mention this short story:
Last week we were reading "Ruby the Copycat" from our reading series. In it, a girl gives Ruby a note with a P.S. telling her that she doesn't like her copycatting ways. Afterward, Ruby (rightfully) cries.
Me: Why do you think Ruby cries after reading the note?
Student: She called her a P.S.!
Also, I have one ornery little girl who cries and whines all the time. In a fit of frustration, I said, "Chantal, don't cry over that!" and she retorted in the whiniest of voices: "I'm not a crier; I'm a whiner!"
After showing a really cool trick with addition, a student cries out, "Damn! That's hot!" with obvious enthusiasm. "Please watch your language in the classroom," I say, in my most mature teacher voice. Surprised, the student replies with, "What? 'Hot?!'"
Here's another random bit of wisdom given by a third grader: "Life would be so much easier if I had a monkey." Amen. Amen.
Last week we were reading "Ruby the Copycat" from our reading series. In it, a girl gives Ruby a note with a P.S. telling her that she doesn't like her copycatting ways. Afterward, Ruby (rightfully) cries.
Me: Why do you think Ruby cries after reading the note?
Student: She called her a P.S.!
Also, I have one ornery little girl who cries and whines all the time. In a fit of frustration, I said, "Chantal, don't cry over that!" and she retorted in the whiniest of voices: "I'm not a crier; I'm a whiner!"
After showing a really cool trick with addition, a student cries out, "Damn! That's hot!" with obvious enthusiasm. "Please watch your language in the classroom," I say, in my most mature teacher voice. Surprised, the student replies with, "What? 'Hot?!'"
Here's another random bit of wisdom given by a third grader: "Life would be so much easier if I had a monkey." Amen. Amen.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Eight-year-old tour guides
Wow! I have to say I'm fairly happy about how Parent Night turned out. I had about half of my class show up with parents in tow. Honestly, I had nothing to worry about. The students who showed up immediately gave their parents the run around the room, pointing to every display, poster, area, and assignment with an explanation (most in Spanish, but I did have one or two English speakers this year!). They had their parents guess which one was their Mini-Me's (props to many parents for getting it right on the first try), then they moved around the room pointing to their word family flower, sight word star, our class spelling and math chart, even stopping to explain the behavior chart. My job was made incredibly easy. I answered about two questions, thanked them for coming, and that was that. I loved that the students felt that the room was THEIRS, such a contrast from Meet the Teacher when they shyly walked in and wouldn't make eye contact. Now they were dragging their parents around by the hand to point to their name in the name quilt or explain our class jobs and pillow people.
The prize goes to my student Cierra who pulled things from random places to describe to her mom how I used the dry erase markers, showed her how to use an atlas, and summarized the read aloud. She must have been in there for thirty minutes, going on and on about every little detail in the class: how I use the yardstick of power, how her job is to shush Arnulfo, why we have special numbers, and the importance of marshmallows to our read aloud. I didn't even realize how much we did until she reported it all in detail.
The prize goes to my student Cierra who pulled things from random places to describe to her mom how I used the dry erase markers, showed her how to use an atlas, and summarized the read aloud. She must have been in there for thirty minutes, going on and on about every little detail in the class: how I use the yardstick of power, how her job is to shush Arnulfo, why we have special numbers, and the importance of marshmallows to our read aloud. I didn't even realize how much we did until she reported it all in detail.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Adorable, yet Exhausting
Well, it's technically only the seventh day of school, but, of course, I'm exhausted. These kids are absolutely ADORABLE... I have one child, who's not even in my class, but has adopted me as his recess buddy, who calls me his "mummy" because I do this little mummy bit where I chase him around the field. Today he accidentally called me "mama." That may not sound adorable to you, but believe me - it is!
Anyway, our Parent's Night (technically a Back-to-School) is this Thursday and I'm worried my classroom does not look good enough to receive parents. It doesn't look BAD, but it doesn't necessarily reflect all of the work we've done so far. After a Kagan workshop I took this summer, I've been incorporating a lot more cooperative learning, so a lot of what we do doesn't have hard "proof". We go into some amazing projects later in the year, but right now all I have up are our Mini-Mes, Wanted posters and a writing project for "Miss Nelson is Missing", fake newspaper reports about our first week of school, and their sight word charts. Will that be enough?
I think I may be getting good reports at home. I've had several teachers from lower grades tell me that their old students who are now in my class have reported that I am "sooo funny". It's true: I am. This group seems to appreciate my humor even more than last year. They love my reading selections (right now it's Shel Silverstein's "Lafcadio: The Lion Who Shot Back"), Twinkie, and of course my undoubtable wit and charm!
Anyway, our Parent's Night (technically a Back-to-School) is this Thursday and I'm worried my classroom does not look good enough to receive parents. It doesn't look BAD, but it doesn't necessarily reflect all of the work we've done so far. After a Kagan workshop I took this summer, I've been incorporating a lot more cooperative learning, so a lot of what we do doesn't have hard "proof". We go into some amazing projects later in the year, but right now all I have up are our Mini-Mes, Wanted posters and a writing project for "Miss Nelson is Missing", fake newspaper reports about our first week of school, and their sight word charts. Will that be enough?
I think I may be getting good reports at home. I've had several teachers from lower grades tell me that their old students who are now in my class have reported that I am "sooo funny". It's true: I am. This group seems to appreciate my humor even more than last year. They love my reading selections (right now it's Shel Silverstein's "Lafcadio: The Lion Who Shot Back"), Twinkie, and of course my undoubtable wit and charm!
Friday, August 10, 2007
Leave It Outside
Sometimes I think that a teacher is asked to be unhuman. She must be happy and excited 98% of the time, multi-tasking, concerned about everyone but herself, and, possibly hardest of all, she must learn to leave all personal (or sometimes professional) issues outside the door. Whether it's the death of a family member, the fact that she broke up with her boyfriend the night before, a rumor spreading denying her professional credability, nothing must effect her teaching.
Remembering when I was the age of my own students, I always thought that the teachers lived at school. I imagined Mr. Dickens putting the desks together to form a sort of bed, Mrs. Sulis tucking herself away into the cabinet for the night, etc. In a way, that's really who we are. I am Miss Sells, here for the twenty-five learners who grace my classroom with their presence five days a week. Since my personal struggles and dilemmas are not allowed to even enter my mind between 8:00 and 4:00, I might as well become the teacher who sleeps on her desk. It's often shocking when I realize there are people and situations outside of school. I spend so much energy on the school part, I forget that life is supposed to be more than that.
Remembering when I was the age of my own students, I always thought that the teachers lived at school. I imagined Mr. Dickens putting the desks together to form a sort of bed, Mrs. Sulis tucking herself away into the cabinet for the night, etc. In a way, that's really who we are. I am Miss Sells, here for the twenty-five learners who grace my classroom with their presence five days a week. Since my personal struggles and dilemmas are not allowed to even enter my mind between 8:00 and 4:00, I might as well become the teacher who sleeps on her desk. It's often shocking when I realize there are people and situations outside of school. I spend so much energy on the school part, I forget that life is supposed to be more than that.
Monday, August 6, 2007
First Day
Today was the first day of school! It started as crazily as always: students in the wrong classrooms, non-English speaking parents coming into the room to make sure their child- I don't know - knows they are at school? My students are pretty adorable: 25 eight to nine-year-olds eager to be at school and start a new chapter. They are at many different academic levels. Most seem to be pretty low, but I also have one girl who is reading "Chronicles of Narnia."
The day passed very quickly, but I was still completely exhausted afterwards. Being cheery for so long takes something out of you.
It was also the first day of our conversion from a K-6 to a K-8. I am not the biggest lover of the junior-high crew: they are pompous, egotistical, wanna-be-adults. It's strange having to walk my kids past a bunch of gossiping 13-year-olds. I've had to tell students taller than me to tuck in their shirts... I also hurt my feet by playing tag in fancy professional shoes. I think the blisters are worth the connections I made with my third graders!
The day passed very quickly, but I was still completely exhausted afterwards. Being cheery for so long takes something out of you.
It was also the first day of our conversion from a K-6 to a K-8. I am not the biggest lover of the junior-high crew: they are pompous, egotistical, wanna-be-adults. It's strange having to walk my kids past a bunch of gossiping 13-year-olds. I've had to tell students taller than me to tuck in their shirts... I also hurt my feet by playing tag in fancy professional shoes. I think the blisters are worth the connections I made with my third graders!
Saturday, August 4, 2007
What day is it?
So, twenty five third graders will be showing up at my door in less than two days, and I am sitting in my classroom on a Saturday (or, more honestly, making frequent trips from the classroom to the teacher's lounge). For those of you numb to the pains of the teacher, this is not a rare occurence. I am not the only teacher here this Saturday: there are two sixth grade teachers, three second grade teachers, two first grade teachers, two fourth grade teachers, and possibly more locked inside their classrooms, plus our principal and vice principal. Also, if I were to compare the Saturdays I spent at school last year to the Saturdays I didn't spend at school, the former would greatly outweigh the latter. The sad thing is that if you were to ask me how I spent these Saturdays, the answer would be unsatisfactory: preparing. How can you spend THAT much time doing prep work? I would tell you it's because of my rather limited experience, but veteran teachers do the same.
Here's to your Saturday. May it be void of all work. Live it up so teachers can have something to experience vicariously.
Here's to your Saturday. May it be void of all work. Live it up so teachers can have something to experience vicariously.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
When all else fails... it's time to throw a water balloon...
Today, I sat in a room for eight hours straight (okay, so I got up to use the restroom and we went to an adjoining room for lunch, but you get the picture). The teachers in our district were given a full day of meetings at their school site. Although I love the people I work with, colleagues as well as adminstration, these meetings can be dry and boring even if you're sitting next to the most interesting people in the world. Just when I thought I was about to fall asleep in my pile of papers, our principal calls out, "Okay, get a partner, grab a water balloon and meet me outside." Well, being the mature and sophisticated adults that we are, we immediately do so, laughingly pushing each other aside as we scramble to get into the steamy outdoors. Forming two lines, we do that picnic classic of the water balloon toss (with the distance between your partner growing with every successful throw). You haven't lived until you see a 60-some year-old five-foot tall secretary dripping wet from a well-aimed throw of a water balloon or an army-veteran-turned-kindergarden-teacher heaving a water balloon to a laughing intructional assistant. Dripping and laughing, we went back inside to face more paperwork and AYP qualifications. However, those few tosses of a water balloon greatly increased the value of the day.
Friday, July 27, 2007
The Greatest Sacrifice
According to Harry Potter, it's your soul. According to movies, it's your life. According to a teacher, however, the greatest sacrifice one can give is . . . I can barely confess I've done it! . . . giving away books.
Yesterday, I sat in the middle of my reading area surrounded by books. I had a problem. I had too many books. "Too many books!" you exclaim in authentic horror. "That's just not possible." Actually, it IS possible, and I was able to reach such a point. It happened because a) I am a children's book hoarder, b) I am a Scholastic whore, c) I cannot say no to a book. My classroom library has books from my own childhood, from warehouse sales, from used bookstores and Friends of the Library monthly sales, leftover from the teacher who had resided in my classroom before me, and from many helpful teachers in California who saw me as a beneficiary of all the books they no longer had want or need for.
Our school librarian (and the husband of another third grade teacher) came in and saw me panicking as I sat like a human island in a sea of books. "Help me!" I cried pathetically, and he allowed me to wail out my problem: basically that I had too many books and my classroom library was starting to swallow my classroom whole; a colleague joked that I could keep all my books, but a couple of students would have to sit outside. I picked up a book at random to demonstrate the problem. The book happened to be from an ancient series featuring a character named Calico Cat. "Calico Cat goes to the Zoo": a boring, story with bland pictures about a cat who sees animals at a zoo (what a creative idea!). "What about this?" I said, manically. "I would never recommend this book to someone; I hate this book! But it might have some significance to an ELL or someone just beginning to read."
"Have you ever seen a student reading one of these?" he asked, patiently.
"Ummm... I think I saw Bianca reading one once."
"Is it worth keeping a book you hate, that you wouldn't recommend, just because one student picked it up and read it ONCE?"
"I don't know! Am I hired to be a teacher or a book critic?" I asked, anger rising in my voice.
He told me quietly, slowly, and calmly (appropriate for a librarian, but it may have been fear that I would attack him for making such a suggestion), "Erica, why would you keep a book that lacks quality, when you have plenty of good books waiting to be picked up? Taking out some of the books that are disinteresting and boring will only increase the chance that a student will pick up a book that he actually will enjoy."
Of course he was right. I started going through my books and pulling out books that had no place in my classroom. I took out copies of "Leo and the Butterfly" (BOR-ING), a 70s book asking the question, "What Are Drugs?" (my kids can already tell you that), a couple of books f
rom the series my grandmother bought us when we were growing up with titles like "The Truth About Tattling", "picture" books with no pictures and miniscule print, etc. Although it was possibly one of the hardest things I ever had to do, I ended up with a large box full of rejected books.
I can now look through my library and not find one book that I wouldn't be glad to recommend. There's a great feeling in that! Also, my classroom library now only takes up four bookshelves (still a lot, but about twelve cubic feet less of space than my books were taking up before). It looks good and I feel good about it. I am still struggling with the book critic within, but I get most of those needs out from my child_lit e-mail ring to which I belong. It comes down to this:
I hold my students to an expectation when they come into my class; my books should meet high standards as well.
Yesterday, I sat in the middle of my reading area surrounded by books. I had a problem. I had too many books. "Too many books!" you exclaim in authentic horror. "That's just not possible." Actually, it IS possible, and I was able to reach such a point. It happened because a) I am a children's book hoarder, b) I am a Scholastic whore, c) I cannot say no to a book. My classroom library has books from my own childhood, from warehouse sales, from used bookstores and Friends of the Library monthly sales, leftover from the teacher who had resided in my classroom before me, and from many helpful teachers in California who saw me as a beneficiary of all the books they no longer had want or need for.
Our school librarian (and the husband of another third grade teacher) came in and saw me panicking as I sat like a human island in a sea of books. "Help me!" I cried pathetically, and he allowed me to wail out my problem: basically that I had too many books and my classroom library was starting to swallow my classroom whole; a colleague joked that I could keep all my books, but a couple of students would have to sit outside. I picked up a book at random to demonstrate the problem. The book happened to be from an ancient series featuring a character named Calico Cat. "Calico Cat goes to the Zoo": a boring, story with bland pictures about a cat who sees animals at a zoo (what a creative idea!). "What about this?" I said, manically. "I would never recommend this book to someone; I hate this book! But it might have some significance to an ELL or someone just beginning to read."
"Have you ever seen a student reading one of these?" he asked, patiently.
"Ummm... I think I saw Bianca reading one once."
"Is it worth keeping a book you hate, that you wouldn't recommend, just because one student picked it up and read it ONCE?"
"I don't know! Am I hired to be a teacher or a book critic?" I asked, anger rising in my voice.
He told me quietly, slowly, and calmly (appropriate for a librarian, but it may have been fear that I would attack him for making such a suggestion), "Erica, why would you keep a book that lacks quality, when you have plenty of good books waiting to be picked up? Taking out some of the books that are disinteresting and boring will only increase the chance that a student will pick up a book that he actually will enjoy."
Of course he was right. I started going through my books and pulling out books that had no place in my classroom. I took out copies of "Leo and the Butterfly" (BOR-ING), a 70s book asking the question, "What Are Drugs?" (my kids can already tell you that), a couple of books f
rom the series my grandmother bought us when we were growing up with titles like "The Truth About Tattling", "picture" books with no pictures and miniscule print, etc. Although it was possibly one of the hardest things I ever had to do, I ended up with a large box full of rejected books.I can now look through my library and not find one book that I wouldn't be glad to recommend. There's a great feeling in that! Also, my classroom library now only takes up four bookshelves (still a lot, but about twelve cubic feet less of space than my books were taking up before). It looks good and I feel good about it. I am still struggling with the book critic within, but I get most of those needs out from my child_lit e-mail ring to which I belong. It comes down to this:
I hold my students to an expectation when they come into my class; my books should meet high standards as well.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
The Plank
A few weeks before school starts again, we all are forced to walk the plank. This plank will tell us if our school year will be successful or not. We must set up new systems (academic and disciplinary), pray over our class lists (whether you're religious or not), and make our classroom the safe and creative environment we have been told time and time again by professors, colleagues, and superiors that our rooms must be. Each step will tell us what will meet us once we take that flying leap off the edge. The board we walk is sturdy, almost teasingly unrelenting, giving no hint of the conclusion that awaits. Our breath is tighter in our chest with each step. What kind of year will I have? What kind of students will I have? How will my colleagues treat me and how will my lack of sleep and strong teacher-esque will force me to treat them in return? I am only a few steps down the plank now, but it's too far to turn back. I only hope the waters are friendly.
Class lists will be given tomorrow, and I find out at least one of the projects my year will settle upon. Most of the names will be unfamiliar: a sibling here, a cousin there; but there will also be inevitably a name with a reputation. You pray there's only one . . . You have to decide how you will take this blow. Automatically sit him in the front? Girl-lock him? Read up on every discipline book in your professional library? Come up with a precursory behavior plan? Listen to the rumors or start fresh with a "new year, new teacher" attitude? Last year, it was the year of Nathaniel; I was lucky to have a child whose only real problem was intense ADHD. Who knows what kind of challenge the future holds for Room 19.
Class lists will be given tomorrow, and I find out at least one of the projects my year will settle upon. Most of the names will be unfamiliar: a sibling here, a cousin there; but there will also be inevitably a name with a reputation. You pray there's only one . . . You have to decide how you will take this blow. Automatically sit him in the front? Girl-lock him? Read up on every discipline book in your professional library? Come up with a precursory behavior plan? Listen to the rumors or start fresh with a "new year, new teacher" attitude? Last year, it was the year of Nathaniel; I was lucky to have a child whose only real problem was intense ADHD. Who knows what kind of challenge the future holds for Room 19.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Actress/Teacher
Who knew that taking a couple of drama classes in high school and developing a severe case of stage fright in front of my peers would lead me to being a teacher... or really, just an actress with a perpetual audience of eight- and nine-year-olds? So often that's what being a teacher seems to signify. Sure, I attend conferences, staff meetings, and other meetings with vague purposes; I spend too much time grading and entering grades, creating rubrics; I read more children's literature than a children's book editor; I plan lessons during every waking (and sometimes slumbering) moment; but when it comes to opening the door in the morning to a class of expectant third graders, the actress kicks in and takes over. I am replaced by a character called "Miss Sells" who has all the answers, a bottomless pit of energy and enthusiasm about everything from fire drills to fractions, and a great skill of improvisation. Through it all she has a smile on her face, except when the teacher-look is necessary.
I was inspired to create this blog because of my wonderfully eloquent elder sister's influence. Plus, I would like to have a place dedicated to thought and experiences dealing with my professional life (which, let's face it, is my life).
Of course, now it's the summer: that supposed "vacation time" that makes the occupation of teacher enviable to everyone with normal 9-to-5 jobs. Right now, however, I am in my classroom, trying to sort out all of the files, articles, magazines, both inconsequential and overbearing tasks that I decided to put off so I could check out early. I just sigh and look around thinking about everything that needs to be done: schedules to be made, lesson plans to be created, desks to be arranged, re-organizing and pre-organizing, phone calls and e-mails and letters to write- all of a sudden I seem very tired. Aren't I still on vacation?
I was inspired to create this blog because of my wonderfully eloquent elder sister's influence. Plus, I would like to have a place dedicated to thought and experiences dealing with my professional life (which, let's face it, is my life).
Of course, now it's the summer: that supposed "vacation time" that makes the occupation of teacher enviable to everyone with normal 9-to-5 jobs. Right now, however, I am in my classroom, trying to sort out all of the files, articles, magazines, both inconsequential and overbearing tasks that I decided to put off so I could check out early. I just sigh and look around thinking about everything that needs to be done: schedules to be made, lesson plans to be created, desks to be arranged, re-organizing and pre-organizing, phone calls and e-mails and letters to write- all of a sudden I seem very tired. Aren't I still on vacation?
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