~ All in the Family ~

Two years ago, K. was in my classroom. I loved K. and her spunky little ways, and one of the things I remember about her is the way she turned in assignments. Never just folded in half, or even in fourths, not this girl. She'd start by folding them in half, then continue the fun by accordian folding the assignment, or maybe creating a little fan out of the paper. It was a little mini-adventure just to get her paper unfolded and laid flat to read it.

This year, her little brother R. is in my room. R just folded his math paper in thirds, folded all the edges back a couple of times, and then proceeded to staple the life out of it. When I told him I didn't really want to have to use a staple remover just to grade his assignment, he solemnly held it up, showing me that all the answers were on the front of his little art project.

Is the desire to fold paper genetic, or what?

~ Top Five ~

Top Five signs that Spring Break is only days away:

5. When asked to get his reading book out of his desk, D. begins growling at me.

4. During math time, the boys manage to make a fraction game into a full contact sport.

3. Every set of directions is followed by someone asking, "Do we have to?"

2. Whispered arguments erupt during reading time over whether Spring Break is this coming week, or if we have one week of school left. A. finally settles it by interrupting me mid-sentence to ask if we have school on Monday or not.

.......and the number one sign that Spring Break is only days away......

Teachers with small, thin smiles passing each other in the hallway, reminding each other that we will make it to break with most of our sanity intact. Maybe.

Creative Geography

In education, we deal with a lot of what is sometimes called "creative spelling," where a child who has no idea how to spell a word will pretty much make up a spelling. Take, for example, the word "aghsome."

But I think we need a new term in education, so I'm introducing, "Creative Geography," where a child who has no idea where countries or major landforms are located makes it up.

My partner teacher's kids have social studies with me every other week, and they are enormous creative geographers. For example, if you didn't already know, my partner teacher's students tell me that Canada comes in two parts, one part north of the U.S., and one part south. They also think Chicago is a country and Mackinac Island is it's own state. Truly.

Today, as I was grading their final projects for our Colonial Times unit, I came across quite the interesting picture. One student chose to make a poster for his project. He drew a picture of a cabin with some farm fields and a garden patch with a slave working, and in the background, a volcano, spewing lava over the entire scene. You didn't know that there were active volcanoes in the thirteen original colonies, did you?

Neither did I.

Note To Self

Dear Self,
For future reference, field trips on Thursdays are a BAD thing. It tricks the mind into believing that Thursday was actually Friday, which leads to Friday feeling like Saturday, which leads to the minds of children believing that they shouldn't actually have to do any work. 'Cause it's Saturday.

So save yourself a headache, and from now on, only take field trips on Fridays.

Sincerely,
Mrs. N.

The Time Has Come

It came early this year.

It's usually April before I have to give the Dreaded Talk. But it's only the beginning of March, and judging by the smell I'm gonna have to give it early.

The your-bodies-are-changing-and-you-must-start-showering-every-day-and-also-wearing-deoderant talk.

Cause they just came back from gym, and oh my glory are they ripe!

An Exercise in Pointlessness

I like extra paperwork about as much as the next person, which is to say not at all. So I was less than happy when our grade level was told we'd be giving a writing test to our kids which would need to be scored by us using a rubric. We'd need to score the essays blind, with students using numbers instead of their names , and we couldn't score our own students because of the potential for bias.

Sounds fun, right? Oh, but wait, there's more!

Then, because I have the extra special job of being the grade level chairperson, all the scores came to me, I had to type in all 115 names of students in our grade level, get a class list (with their numbers) from each teacher, and enter the scores on a spreadsheet to be sent to our principal.

Lots of extra work for me, but I do get paid for this position, so I don't mind it so much.

Usually.

According to plan, I should have had a set of scored papers from everyone by February 27th. A week and a half ago.

According to plan, I also should have had a list of student names with numbers from each teacher by February 27th. A week and a half ago.

But of course, what ever goes according to plan when education is involved?

First, I had Ms. Procrastination next door. After being told she'd have them on three separate dates, I had to threaten her with having to enter her own scores on my spreadsheet and figure out how to attach the file and send it to the principal. She hates technology. I got the scored papers within forty-five minutes.

My next hurdle was getting a class list from Mr. Unorganized. I personally don't understand how a teacher can survive without a printed class list. I make dozens of copies of mine and use them for everything from lunch choices to setting up reading groups to grading. But he doesn't. And there's nothing really wrong with that. Which I had to repeat to myself like a chanting monk as he was telling me he didn't have a class list and wasn't going to spend that time typing just to give me one. His idea? I'll just pass them back out and have the kids write their names on them. All fine and good. Except he forgets to give them back to me and has to unearth them from his desk when I go over to beg for them yet again.

Finally, I think I have the final piece, the missing names for these assignments, and I can finish this project at long last.

Except then I look at the names. The first names. Followed by no last names.

I march back across the hall. I believe his exact words to me were, "What now?" Yep, professional to the core. He tells me he'll have them do it at recess and then give them right back to me.

Indoor recess. Again. I wait. And wait. And finally decide he probably forgot and go across the hall, again, to find him. He isn't there, but the papers are, sitting on top of a pile on one of his desks. I grab them, start hollering at children to come put their last names on and make sure they print. It's mass chaos, half of them want to tell me how to pronounce their last names, and the other half want to ask me if they have to put their real name or their nickname. Yeesh. This is also when I realize that Mr. Unorganized has not assigned his children numbers based on alphabetical order, or any particular order at all.

*sigh*

When the commotion subsides, I'm left with two papers with no names, and Mr. Unorganized has returned. Shockingly, no one claimed the paper with a large zero at the top, and the one child who hasn't put his name on a paper claims that C. took his paper and put his name on it.

It's at this point that I decide I'm beyond caring. It is Not. My. Job. to figure out what on earth he's done with these kids and these papers. Not. Not, not, not. I take what I have, enter the scores on the spreadsheet, toss the ones with no names, and send the whole thing on its merry little way.

But here's the real kicker. I have absolutely no idea what these scores are actually being used for. We're not using them to decide what to teach. The sixth grade teachers aren't using them to get an idea where the kids are at before they start sixth grade. They're going in some dusty file that no one ever looks at. And we get to test them twice a year. Which means I get to do this all over again before the end of school.

Argh.

Run, don't walk!

I walk in the room during lunch recess to see K banging the tape dispenser on the table.

"What is it that you're doing?"

"N broke the whole bottom off it," he says, sand pouring from a large gap, "I'm just trying to fix it."

I shake my head and run, run as far away as possible. Which unfortunately is only as far as the teacher's lounge.

Expanding the Union

Word of the Day: contiguous. As in, "How many contiguous states are there?"

I think my explanation of "contiguous" was pretty good. Contiguous states are the states that are touching at least one other state. They understood that.

Nope, the problem seemed to lie in the fact that they weren't entirely sure what qualified as a state.

"Oh!! So Cuba is not a contiguous state!" No, sweetie, Cuba is a different country.

"Well, how about Mackinac Island? That's a state, right?" Ah, no. It's part of our state.

"What about Greenland? Antarctica? Those aren't touching anything else." Honey, those aren't actually part of the U.S.

"This part right here..." (pointing to Vancouver Island) "it's not contiguous...which state is that?" Well, my dear, it's not a state, it's part of Canada.

They didn't stop at adding land to the United States, either. As I circled the room, B. piped up. "Hey, is Canada split in half?"
"Um, no," I reply confusedly.
"Well then, what's that?" she says, pointing to Mexico.
"Mexico," I sigh, praying the middle school Social Studies teacher will refrain from murdering me in my sleep.