Note To Self

To: Future Self (w/ children)
From: Present Teacher Self
Re: Things not to do to your future child

Dear Future Self,
Never ever....ever....show up in your fifth grader's classroom wearing a giant pig costume and oinking while video taping him/her watching Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin. Just don't.

Sincerely,
Present Teacher Self

A Little Much?

I walked into school after lunch to find I had been trapped by one hundred twenty third graders. Not only had they trapped me, they were also seranading me. One hundred twenty little voices, with a disembodied guitar coming from somewhere, singing "fa la la la la...la la la la." My first thought was that they sure were practicing for Christmas caroling a little early this year. My second thought was, "How in the world am I going to get to my classroom?"

And then I heard the words "pumpkin patch" mingling with all the fa la la-ing. Yup, not Christmas caroling....Halloween caroling. Eeesh. As if the costume wearing, sugar eating, worst party of the year day wasn't enough, we're now degrading and twisting songs from the hap-happiest time of the year to fit the theme.

My third thought, "What in the...."
Fourth thought, "Thank you, God, that I don't teach third grade."

loooooong sigh....

Woke up Tuesday morning with abdominal cramping, running back and forth from bed to toilet and back again. As I lay there, curled into a ball, I came to the slow realization that the state of Michigan has dictated four days during the year when I cannot be sick and stay home from school. So, I took a shower, took a ten minute nap, got dressed, took a five minute nap, did minimal hair and makeup, and staggered to work.

All to give the MEAP test.

Back in the day, we had a three week window. In fifth grade we had three different tests to give, and three weeks to do them whenever it fit with our schedule. Yes, imagine that, flexibility.

And then....

One little reporter from Jackson decided to print what the fifth grade writing prompt was. We all had to retake the writing test. And now the state of Michigan tells us the exact day we MUST give each specific test, so we avoid that kind of thing again.

Which means I drag my butt to work, sick or not, on those days, so my kids won't mess their tests up because they have a sub who can't find the pencils, or is unable to read the directions to the test, or decides that there's no reason they can't do the MEAP test in groups. If you think I'm exaggerating, read this. A substitute can't be left to give a test that is this important.

So, a big thank you to the state of michigan for creating such a rigid system that it leaves no room for actual human beings. Yup, good job.

Always another first

Teaching has many firsts - first year, first kid who calls you nasty name, first time you see that "lightbulb" go on. My latest first wasn't any of those, though. Last week was the first time I broke a kid's bone.

Now, before anyone calls CPS or my principal - let me explain. On Mondays and Fridays, our schedule gives us a four hour block with no breaks, no recesses, no nothing. So, I build a break in and we typically go outside and play some sort of running game. This gives them a chance to take a break, and entertains me. The game I like to come back to, the one that entertains me most, is called Army/Navy. Each line of a square gets labeled with a different branch of the armed services, and as I call out a branch, everyone runs toward that line. The last one there is out. I like to switch it up a bit and call out several different branches in a row, so the kids are wheeling around the field like a drunken flock of birds. Like I've said before, I'm in this career simply for the entertainment value.

So last week, as they're careening around the field, I see one of them trip over his own feet and go down. He pops up, grimacing and holding his hand. I immediately assume he has a small scrape, because of the asphalt, and call him over, cheerfully asking if there's blood. He holds his hand out and breathes a shaky "No," as I look down at his hand. I'm all ready with my "No blood? Then you're still in the game!" when I notice his pinky finger is laying on top of his ring finger.

"K! Does your finger always look like that?"

"Not really."

Off to the office he went, mom came and whisked him to the ER, he came back to school the next day with a nice red cast, and I had another first to put on my list.