~ Competetive much? ~

In the middle of yet another round of end-of-the-year testing.

(I won't even get started on my feelings about that.)

The room is silent; students are (mostly) focused on the big, yucky test they have to do.

Which was when S felt the need to ask the entire classroom, "Is anyone past number 76 on the science part of the test?"


Everything's a competition, I guess!

~fo' shizzle ~

Question on spelling test: "Write five words that begin with 'sh.'"

Student only provides one word: "Shizzle." Because I'm apparently teaching a rapper wannabe.

This is the kid who hasn't passed a spelling test all year, yet he can spell the word "Shizzle" perfectly.

Sigh.

But, as a dear friend pointed out, he could have put a very different sort of word beginning with 'sh,' so I guess I should be thankful!

~ When you have to try not to laugh ~

My little story teller, R, started my morning off by asking me for a favor. A favor embedded in a story, of course.

There, in the middle of all the morning hoopla, when I have breakfast choices/attendance/field trip money/field trip chaperones/kids to get on task, was R.

"Mrs. N," he says, "can you do me a favor today?"

"Probably....has anyone seen K this morning yet?"

"Well, you're gonna need to keep an eye on me this morning," R continues.

"Oooook.......C? C? What did you have for breakfast?"

"Doncha wanna know why?" says my storyteller.

"Why?"

"Well, I hit the kitchen floor with my head. But not on purpose, ya see, we were messing around with electrical tape, and my brother, he taped my hands together in front of me, and so then when I tripped over a chair, I couldn't put my hands out to stop me from falling, and so I fell on my head, and I didn't bleed, but I had a bump, but the bump is gone this morning, but my mom still said I have to be careful not to pass out today at school. So I need you to keep an eye on me."

He was so dead serious about it, and it was all I could do not to laugh. I was expecting him to ask for a bathroom pass

~ Question of the Week ~

S. is typing away on her report about zebras this morning in the computer lab when she jumps up and comes to find me.

"Mrs. N, isn't it botox when they suck all the fat out of you?"

"No, it isn't."

"Oh. Well what is that called when they suck the fat out?"

"Liposuction."

S. heads back to her computer. Thirty seconds later, she's back.

"Mrs. N, how do you spell liposuction?"

With only a handful of days left to the end of the year, I'm not even going to ask what on earth liposuction has to do with zebras.

~ Eew, Eeew, Eeeew! ~

Did you know that it is now a violation of student's rights to send a student home because they have head lice? Yup...that's apparently changed this year. The school may notify parents that they think the child has head lice, but they can't do head checks anymore.

So...when C walked up to my desk during Social Studies itching, itching, itching his head, I was a little grossed out. Then he asked me if I could check his head because it was itching really bad.

Um, no.

He then stood there at my desk for 3 minutes vigorously itching his head and explaining to me all the things that he thought could be making his head itch, including ticks and the worms they used for fishing bait yesterday.

I kept repeating, "Please make sure you tell your mom tonight," in between every explanation he gave, all the time silently praying that whatever little nasties had taken up residence in his scalp would not decide to jump ship and land anywhere in my general vicinity. Yick...

~ Conversation of the Week ~

Overheard while waiting for my kids to come back from gym:

Aide from autistic room: Ok, now we're going to gym.
Autistic child: But--
Aide: You are not going to talk about dogs right now...
Autistic Child: But did you--
Aide: ...you're going to talk about gym class right now.
Autistic Child: No, not dogs! I'm talking about marsupials.
Aide: Ok, you're not going to talk about marsupials right now, you're going to talk about gym class.....

~Creative Geography~

Geographical term of the day: Peninsula

My kids typically do not have trouble with the concept of a peninsula. Since we do live in Michigan, they've heard the terms 'Upper Peninsula' and 'Lower Peninsula' most of their lives.

So when, in Social Studies, I ask them to find an example of a peninsula, there isn't usually a problem. Usually.

But there's always one. Or sometimes two. This year it was two. One who informed me that Oakland is a peninsula, another who told me Nevada is a peninsula.

Sigh.

~ I'm Getting There ~

It's project time in Social Studies. We're learning about historical figures who influenced the American Revolution. They have to have a picture of their person on their project. C told me, about 3 minutes after he started, that he was done. When I asked him to show me what "done" meant, he hung his head and said,

"I didn't know what to draw, so I drew an alien. And a toilet."

I'm not counting the days till the end of the year yet, but I'm definitely getting there.

~Really? Is it 1836?? ~

We've been analyzing characters from fiction in Reading class for the last couple of weeks. This morning I'm grading character outlines that the kids had to complete on one of the characters in their novel.

To answer the question "What personality flaws might prevent the character from reaching their goal?" D answered:

"She's a girl"

Picked my jaw up off the floor and wondered when, exactly, being a girl became a personality flaw.

~ Define "Reading" ~

I'm beginning to think it's inevitable. During our half hour of silent reading, I look up from my book/stack of papers/student I'm talking to and notice M (or C or A or whoever) is sitting at their desk, with their book closed on top, staring into space, writing notes, or making faces at their friend across the room.

My first response is a throat clear. Occasionally the delinquent reader will jump a bit, make eye contact with me, and go back to their book. I don't have to interuppt what I'm doing, which is especially important if I'm talking to another student about their book.

However. The throat clear rarely works, epecially the week before spring break. So I go to response two. I say their name softly. The student glances up, and we have this little exchange:
"A., reading, please."
Student holds up their closed book with a look stating that their teacher is obviously among the most ignorant people in the universe for asking them to read when they clearly have a book within sight already.
"Ok, now open and read, please."
Loooooong sigh. Student flops book onto desk, opens it, and at least pretends to read.

In some rare cases, this still doesn't work. Which forces this resourceful teacher to pull out all the stops. In a move borrowed from Jim Fay's "Love & Logic," I pat the student on the shoulder and quietly say, "I can see you don't really want to read right now. That's fine. You can make up your reading time later today." Occasionally, the student is silly enough to take me up on it. They quickly find that, shockingly, we're just so busy with learning and such during the day, the only time left to finish thier reading requirement is during recess or lunch. After the first month or so of school, they all know what "make up your time later" really means. Problem solved. For now.....

~ Overheard ~

Walking the hall today. Student is packing things up at her locker. Teacher is standing next to her, saying "....and no more food in your desk at all. Especially not chicken fingers. That's just gross!"

~Reason #238 ~

Reason #238 why I am so glad to be back in 5th grade this year: Math is so much more entertaining.

It is fraction time in 5th grade, and today we wrote fraction stories to demonstrate the fraction 2/3. This assignment had two requirements:
1. The answer must be 2/3
2. It must have a picture that makes sense with the story.

After five minutes of raised hands asking, "Can we....?" with me replying, "Is your answer 2/3? Does your picture make sense? Then yes you can do it, " these are some of the stories I got:

* A blueberry popsicle was cut into three pieces. Two senior citizens each ate one piece and put the rest back in the freezer.

* A cucumber was cut into three pieces. I threw two of them at my brother. What fraction did I throw at my brother?

* A pizza was cut into three pieces. I gave one piece to my dog and threw one at my brother.


* A square was chopped into three pieces. A friend and I are eating a piece each.

* I had three slices of cake. I threw one at my teacher and a hobo grabbed one and ate it. What fraction of the cake did I lose?

Gotta love that fifth grade humor!

~St. Patrick's Day: A Teacher's Perspective ~

"If you're

not wearing green,

please grab

a few green stickers

from the table

and put them

on your shirt.

EVERYONE - hear this:

There will be no

pinching,

poking,

or in any other way

putting

your

hands

on another person

who is not wearing green.

If you pinch,

poke,

or in any other way

put

your

hands

on another person...

bad things will happen."

~ Trying to keep a straight face ~

You remember your elementary school music programs, right? You had the kids who loved music and were pretty good at it, who were loving every minute, the kids who loved music and were no good at it, but were still having a good time, and the kids who really could care less about music, and were only having a good time because they had a half a dozen kids within easy "bothering" reach on the bleachers.

We recently had our 5th grade music program, and it's always been interesting to be on the other side of the bleachers.

During one of my earlier years of teaching, we had no auditorium in our building, which meant our programs were at the high school a few blocks away. During this program, because there wasn't a lot of room on stage, some classes had to leave the stage and wait in a nearby classroom while the other classes were performing, then go back on stage. One parent got wind of this and decided to tag along while we were in the hallway, giving her already hyper daughter Snickers bars and Mountain Dew in between songs. Needless to say, this concert did not go well.

Thankfully, we now have our own auditorium, with a stage big enough to accomodate everyone. At our dress rehearsal for the program, in between chuckling over my enthusiastic (and rythmically challenged) clapper whose short stature put him right in the front row and giving death glares to the kid in the back row giving devil horns to the kid in front of him, I spotted D in the back row.

His face was twisted and puckered, tongue protruding, and his eyes crossed as he tried to watch where his tongue was going. I tried to give him the death glare but failed. I wanted to giggle instead.

I tried again. No such luck. And he knew it, too, the little stinker.

The song began and D's facial gymnastics came to a halt. I asked him later what he'd been doing. "I was bored. I was trying to get my tongue to touch my nose." I tried not to laugh as I told him, for his mother's sake, not to try that at the actual program. He tried not to laugh when he asked me why not and I told him so he didn't look stupid in front of all the parents.

Sharing the story with his mother later that week, she just shook her head and said, "It could have been so much worse..."

~Homophones, oh homophones!~

We've been working (and working, and working) on homophones this week. Words that sound the same but are spelled differently.

In a possible sign that I've been reading too many fantasy books lately, I completely missed a homophone this morning.

B: Mrs. N, my ancestors on my mom's side came from the ferry.

Me: The what? Did you say the fairy?

B: Yeah, the ferry.

Me: Oh, like the Ellis Island ferry? Like a boat?

B, looking at me strangely: Yeah, like I said, the ferry.

~You've Gotta Give Him Credit! ~

Grading Social Studies papers today....

Question: You are watching a home game of the Indianapolis Colts. What state are you in?

Correct Answer: Indiana.

Special Ed, See the World Differently Answer: I'd be watching it on TV, so I'm in Michigan.

~ The Tape Nazi ~

I'm usually pretty picky about what our school supplies are used for. If they're paid for with school money, they should be used for school purposes, not to tape your nose in a disgusting position, not to draw & color a cute little smiley face for your friend's locker, and not to create paper airplanes.

As picky as I usually am, during this year when our supply budget was reduced by half, I became extremely picky.

Kids are constantly wanting to use my tape for non-school-related projects. Taping pencils/pens/notebooks they destroyed back together, hanging decorations on their locker. Typically they ask, and I tell them no. But they keep asking. Until this year.

This year, C & H have become obsessed with paper airplanes. Not just simple four-fold paper airplanes...complicated airplanes, requiring not only paper, but paperclips, staples, and frequently, tape. The two of them learned the hard way not to use my stash of lined paper to fuel their obsession. Instead, they blew threw an entire three years' worth of accumulated scrap paper in about a week. Their numerous requests for staples, tape, and paperclips were also turned down in no uncertain terms.

And yet....I walk back into the room during our latest indoor recess to find C & H in the corner taping together yet another convoluted paper airplane with my tape!

Without a word, I walk over, pluck the tape dispenser out of their little paws, and deposit it in my desk drawer. Where it has stayed ever since.

Students who need tape for legitimate school purposes have been wandering around the room looking in vain for the tape. When they finally come to ask me about it, they find they must undergo interrogation to determine why they want the tape, and finally, they are given the least amount of tape possible for their school-related project and sent on their way.

The Tape Nazi - that's what they've turned me into.

~ The Little Things ~

Once a month, our school honors kids who have shown respect or friendliness for that month. Two kids from each class are honored at an assembly and the next week, they're given a special lunch to celebrate, as well. Each month, one teacher from each grade level is invited to join the kids during their special lunch, and this month...you guessed it...it was my turn.

I was not looking forward to cafeteria pizza, although I was pleasantly surprised to find a huge assortment of fresh fruit, and a really yummy chocolate and coconut filled cookie for dessert. I was also not looking forward to being in the cafeteria during fifth grade lunch. The lunch ladies routinely call the fifth grade teachers to tell us how loud, noisy, and bad the kids are during lunch. But it truly wasn't as noisy as I thought it would be.

The highlight of my lunch came about two minutes in. The pizza came directly out of the oven and was served to us too hot to eat. A couple of the girls tried to pick it up, but put it back down right away. I decided to open my fork and knife to cut my pizza. The girls sitting around me all gasped.

"Where did you get that fork?" they asked.

I showed them the baggie with the plastic fork and knife, and soon they were all tearing into them, cutting their pizza into bite sized pizzas. "We only get sporks in the cafeteria," they told me, "it's so cool that we get real forks!"

Sometimes it's the little things we take for granted.

~ Valentine's Day: Bah, Humbug! ~

I am a little less than fond of holidays which require a classroom party. Valentine's Day is one of those, and in order to make the beginning of the week run a little bit smoother, the fifth grade celebrated early, having our parties on Friday last week. The kids came in this morning ready to work, settling in to our writing assignment very nicely.

Until....

Morning announcements began as usual, with a fifth grade student reading birthdays and other details over the school's P.A. system, then leading us in the Pledge of Allegiance. We finished the Pledge, but the announcements didn't stop.

First, the music teacher announced that a group of "special people" would be singing a little tune for Valentine's Day. Then there were three heavy, huffing breaths directly into the microphone. At this point, my class was at a low buzz wondering what was happening. Then came some nearly non-melodic singing, which dissolved into a sort of non-rhythmic rapping, none of which could be understood over the P.A. My formerly calm class was now giggling and growing louder by the moment.

Then, as if enough hadn't already been done, the announcement came to turn our TVs to channel 18.

I shouldn't have listened.

Played for the whole school, channel 18 was the music teacher in his room singing, clapping, and doing a little Valentine's Day song with motions. My class was speechless for about an eighth of a second, before they all started talking at the same time.

Five minutes later, we were calm and back to work again. Finally.

Call me a Scrooge, but seriously...bah, humbug Valentine's Day!

~ A Math Conundrum ~

Math assignment today: Choose 1 from the easy problems. Choose another 7 from the harder problems for a total of 8 problems.

Student: "If I do two problems from the easy section, can I count it as one harder problem?"
Me: "I guess that would work."
Student: "So if I do all four easy section problems, I can count it as two problems?"

What I Wanted to Say: "So, just to be clear, you're asking me if you can do 10 problems instead of 8? Go for it - you can use the extra practice."

What I Actually Said, With a Long Pause, Giving The Impression That I Really Didn't Want To Say Yes: "Well, I guess that would be OK."

~ Miraculous Momma!~

We have a daily planner in fifth grade. We call it the assignment book. Each day has a space for the kids to write their assignments for the day in every subject, then check off when they've finished them. Unfinished work goes home for homework. Mom/Dad/Guardian initial each day so I know they've seen homework and reminders. The kids bring it back to school and I check to see their parent looked at it. If they haven't had their parent initial it, they have to stay in for part of recess.

For a few weeks, I've suspected that D has been faking the parent initials in his assignment book so he doesn't have to stay in at recess. I had trouble proving it, though, since other correspondence with mom showed that she had childish handwriting herself. So I waited, and sure enough, D tripped himself up.

I greet the kids at the door in the morning, and when D came to the door, no assignment book. I asked him where it was, and he told me he forgot it in his desk the night before. I made a mental note and waited to see what would happen before recess when I checked for parent initials.

I got to D's desk and he showed me his section for the day, all filled out. Then we turned our attention to the section for the previous day, and miraculously, mom had initialed it. Since I had a few more kids to get out to recess, I quietly asked D to wait for me in the room next door. He sputtered and tried to ask how long, but in the end went. When everyone was gone, I brought him back over.

"So, your mom must be pretty amazing, since she managed to sign your planner last night while your assignment book was locked up in your desk at school. How did that happen?"

D unfortunately chose to feign ignorance; he had no idea how this had happened. I waited him out - he was sent next door until he chose to be truthful with me. He actually whined about being bored on one of the moments when I went over to ask if he was ready to tell me the truth. After many hours, he finally came clean. Of course, his hours of stonewalling only made the consequences worse. Too bad his miraculous momma wasn't there to somehow bail him out!

~ Always something new ~

C is the macho guy in our class: never admits to needing help, too cool to do his work, or get excited about anything in school. So it was a little strange when today on my way back to the room after lunch I met a visibly upset C in the hall.

"You're heading the wrong way," I said, "What's going on??"

"S was calling me names. Even when I told him to stop, he kept going and I'm seriously gonna punch him if he doesn't stop."

"Names like what?"

After a long pause, "He keeps calling me a rapist."

So while the rest of the class did busy work, the better part of my afternoon was spent interviewing witnesses, determining that S really did call C a rapist for no apparent reason, forcing S to have what was hopefully the most uncomfortable conversation of his life so far when he had to explain to me exactly what a rapist is, and writing out detention forms.

During this indoor-recess, too-cooped-up time of year, it's always something!

~ Yay for Snow Days! ~

One storm, rolling in Monday afternoon

+

One child, off his meds

+

Indoor recess all day on Monday

=

A severe case of thankfulness for Tuesday's snow day!

~ Snow Day, Maybe?? ~

Apparently, not everyone is as enthralled by snow days as I am. Case in point, this morning:

E: "Mrs. N, it's Monday, right?"
Me: "Yes."
E: "So....do we have school tomorrow?"
Me: "Well, E, that depends on how hard you do your snow dance tonight."
E: *long pause* "I have to do a dance?"
Me: "It's just a joke, E. We're supposed to have school tomorrow, unless there's a snow day."
E: "Aw, man. I hope we don't get a foot of snow. I hate snow."

I hate snow, too. But I love a snow day!
Come on, big nasty clouds!

~ The Storyteller ~

My day has started, for several years, by greeting each student coming in the door with a handshake and a "Good Morning!" This year, the tradition is a little different, because of R. Now my morning goes something like this.

"Good Morning, A."

"Good Morning, D."

"Good Morning, R."

"Mrs. N...did you know that little kids run really fast in bare feet? Well, they can....."
or
"Mrs. N...did you know that I left my jacket in my locker? I did, and I think I need it because, you see, ......."
or
"Mrs. N...you know I got a remote control helicopter for Christmas? And I didn't even have it a week and the charger broke. So I had to....."
or
"Mrs. N, which do you think is more dangerous, getting thrown from a dirtbike or squashed by a snowmobile? I'd have to say, the snowmobile 'cause you see....."
or
"Mrs. N, did you know that every time I play this computer game I forget my password? But then I...."

This from the boy whose parents never show up for conferences, whose pants have been six inches too short for a couple of months and no one at home seems to have noticed. He's my neediest one, and his stories are nearly always an interruption when I'm working on something else. I have to fight the urge to return him to his seat, to ask him if there's any point in what he's telling me. And sometimes I have to do that. But more often it's important for me to listen, to let him know that he is important enough to have my attention. More than that, I see the rest of the class watching how I respond to him. So I make the effort to listen, to model for them that everyone is important and valued in this classroom. Some days I manage it, but some days, just hearing "Mrs. N, did you know.....?" sets my teeth on edge. Patience, Lord, patience, please.

~ I can't even imagine ~

How some kids can even start to concentrate on learning and assignments, I will never understand.

One of the secretaries called very early, interrupting the early morning grading frenzy today. She was letting me know that the office had to be notified if C's dad showed up at the classroom to get him. C's parents are divorced, so he and his brothers were living with Dad. Dad had become depressed and over the weekend told his kids he was going to kill himself. Mom, understandably, took the kids and called Protective Services. C spent part of his day in the office, talking with a couple of officers. As a result, there is now a police order that if Dad shows up at school, the police must be called to deal with the situation. Added to that, there's also a previously scheduled family court date tomorrow that C will be attending.

I can't even imagine that level of stress and anxiety.

Yet C handled it pretty well today, considering. No outbursts, got all his work done on time, and generally participated in class. I would have let him crawl under a table and hide from the world if he'd wanted to.

~ My Red Folder ~

Each of my kids have a red folder in their desks. This is a catch-all for unfinished work, projects, and anything else that needs to be kept for more than a couple of days. They hate using thier red folders; I'm constantly nagging at them to put it in your red folder, not just in your desk.


But what they don't know is that I have my own red folder. I keep it in the bottom drawer of my desk, forgotten for months on end. It's a small folder, and I don't really have a name for it, but it's my catch-all for the little notes of appreciation students and parents have written me over the years. I remembered it again cleaning up Christmas gifts from students. I found a couple of nice handwritten cards and remembered I had a place for them. Opening the folder up is a little like time travel; many of the kids whose names are signed on these notes are in high school now, some have even graduated. But these notes take me back, to the time they spent with me. I get a little teary-eyed, remembering.

~ There's a letter from S, who was only here a few months before she moved. She liked my class so much that she, in her words, "could sit 12 hours of every day learning something new with you."

~ Another layer down, there's a handmade birthday card from the whole class. They made it to cheer me up while I was at the doctor's getting tested for mono because I was feeling so terrible and they were doing busy work with one of the parapros.

~ Another card, this one a handmade Christmas card from kids who are sophomores now. They made it during class, passing it around under my nose to get it everyone's signature on the card.

~ A letter from a parent, the first half all business to notify the school of a different bus route for her daughter. The second half is why I kept it, though, it's a thank you for helping give her child confidence in herself.

~ A Thank You card from a graduating senior from my very first class, thanking me for the part I played in helping her graduate and remembering some of the Chinese words I taught them that year.

I don't share this to toot my own horn. The truth is that for every scrap of paper in this folder, there have been multiple angry phone calls from parents, kids I didn't reach, or who couldn't wait to get as far from my classroom as possible. Even though my red folder holds only a handful of paper, as I glance through it, the notes remind me again why I work in this field, why I decided to become a teacher in the first place.

So think about the teachers in your life: your own teachers, your child's teacher, or just a teacher you know. Let them know if you appreciate the job they're doing - maybe your little scrap of paper, your five minutes of time, will end up in their own "red folder," a reminder of why they go to work every day.

~Utterly Disturbing~

Overheard today -
Kids are discussing middle names, when one nice, sweet boy chimes in.
"My parents just told me the meanings of my first and middle name. My first name means 'demon' and my middle name is another word for like a god or angel or something. So my name means 'demon god.'"

Yeesh. Thankfully he does not live up to the supposed meaning of his name. I've met his parents, too, and they seemed normal. Now, I'm thinking not so much....

~ Dear Self ~

Dear Future Self,
Should you ever be a parent to a fifth grade boy, do not give him cologne for Christmas. His future teacher thanks you in advance for the headache free, non eye-watering days.
Love,
Mrs. N

~ Reason #46 ~

Reason #46 why I love fifth graders...

When you come back to school the day after Christmas vacation only to discover that the janitors have played a very fun game of "rearrange the furniture" while you were gone, don't worry. Just meander down the hall and find a couple of your students who were dropped off early. Take them back to the room, tell them you want it to look like it did when we left for break, and continue on with your work. Ten minutes later, the room will be back to normal.

If you try this with third graders, they will argue with eachother for 7 minutes, then realize the other kids are lining up at the door and madly scramble around trying to get things back in order, all the while asking you every 3.78 seconds where this table or desk or lamp goes. You will begin to see that it would have been less time consuming to just do it yourself.

Ah, 5th grade, how I love being back!