um...thanks, I think...

So I just received a cake...an entire cake...as a Christmas gift from a student. Yeah, cause I need to eat an entire cake.

When I forget....

So there's this girl in my class who drives me up the wall. Constantly disruptive, disobedient, mean and rude to myself and others, always needs my attention. And today is her birthday. And all the behaviors that she normally engages in were ten times worse today, resulting in her sitting in the office the majority of the morning.

It's to the point, two days before vacation, that I don't even want to look at her. I'm so frustrated I don't know what to do with her anymore. I've moved her seat (at her request), I've made her stand in the hallway while everyone else does fun things, I've kept her after school, sent her to detention. Nothing works. And I felt like the biggest witch this morning marching her down to the office on her birthday. But what else can I do when no one else in my class can work or think with her around?

So I'm watching her today, after spending the whole morning in the office and then going to lunch and recess, coem back in my room and start the same noisy, disruptive behavior. On her birthday. And God reminds me to ask, "What must it be like to be this little girl?" So miserable all the time. So angry about something that she has to make everyone around her miserable, too. She hardly ever smiles. I've never heard her laugh. What kind of life is that?

I forget sometimes to think about kids like that; but when I remember it makes me want to keep working at it...yes, I will probably still have to take her to the office, and kick her into the hallway most days of the week...but I'll keep trying new things, try to find something that works with her. And even if it doesn't work, at least I can sleep at night knowing that I'm trying...

If only Mrs. Bolton could see me now...

So I think Mrs. Bolton, who taught my high school speech class, would be proud of me today...I've put her lessons to good use.

Yup...teacher speeches. And I have to admit, I stole this little idea from the guy who wrote 32 Third Graders & One Class Bunny. But it's so, so true. And my favorite speech of the year is one I just gave...the glitter speech.

Goes like this:

*hold up glitter bottle* "Class, this is a bottle of glitter. We are going to use the glitter this afternoon. Let me show you how to properly use glitter." *hold glitter slightly above table and gently shake* "If I see you wildly flinging the glitter bottle, you are done. If I see you pouring glitter onto any part of your body, you are done. If you decide to see what happens when you blow on glitter, you're done. If you throw glitter onto another person, even a person who just called you a naughty name, you are done. If I, at any point when you are over at the table working on your project, see your glitter doing anything it's not supposed to do, you are done. Are there any questions about the glitter?"

Perhaps you think I'm overdoing it a little...afterall, these are 5th graders, they ought to know how to use glitter by now, right? poor, naive soul...I also believed that to be true at one point in time...and when my first class of fifth graders were done with their projects, it looked like the glitter fairy had violently attacked half my students and started a war in my room. Thus, the glitter speech was born.

And it works, too...here's proof:


See how nicely he's holding the glitter bottle and gently tapping? Yup, Mrs. Bolton would be proud...

feeling weepy?

In order to have my kids understand our government a little more, we're starting a class government. Those wishing to run for a position have to submit a letter to me stating they want to run and what their qualifications are (good grades, no detentions, etc.).

One of mine must believe that pleasing me is also a qualification, because the letter I just read promises me that if I let him run, he will make me "tearfully happy."

I feel my eyes misting over even now.....oh, wait, those are tears of laughter :o)

I miss them :o(

My group of kids from last year, that is. I miss them. A lot. And I try not to think about it that much, since it makes me like these kids less, but every once in a while, something happens to make me think about them, miss them, and want them back.

This morning another fifth grader from a different room handed me a folded piece of notebook paper with my name on it. It was from his older sister, who was in my class last year, inviting me to come to her Middle School Band Concert. She listed all the kids from last year and what instrument they play...such great kids, and they didn't do the normal 6th grade thing, which is to forget your 5th grade teacher even existed.

So of course, I'm going...I actually had it on my calendar already. And while missing last year's group possibly causes me to like this group less, it also helps me get through the day, knowing that somewhere in my future, there could be another group of kids like that one. Kids who get my lame jokes, name my plants...kids I can be myself with. They remind me that there's still hope.

tortured

I have one in my class who I am positive is out to torture me. She is the worst behaved girl (or boy, for that matter) in my room...mouthy, rude, disrespectful...you name it. And she's begun coming to school late every single day.

School starts at 8 and every day I stand out in the hall to greet the kids. And every day the last kid trickles into my room and she is still not out there, scowling down the hallway, hiding behind her locker door. I wait until 8:10. I go inside to start on attendance and announcements. I begin to think, "maybe, just maybe, today will be the day she's absent...I'll be able to focus on some of the other 24 children who need my attention..." And then, inevitably, in she sulks...8:15, even 8:20 sometimes. The rise and fall of hope is nearly exhausting some mornings. Seriously, I should just expect her to be there, but it's like I can't stop hoping. For a break. For just one day. Just. One.

So maybe the military should talk to me about humane torture methods for prisoners of war, huh?