Ah, indoor recess. On my top ten of things I dislike, this is right up there. Recess should be for playing, running, getting fresh air, and generally coming inside more calm than when they went outside.
With the windchill hovering at 1 degree, the kiddos are inside for recess. I, foolishly, decide to stay in rather than run away to the teacher's lounge. I know the next twenty minutes will be like the game 20 Questions, except it will go on and on until the kids leave for lunch. Indoor recess with a teacher in the room is like open season. It's now time for students to ask every single question they've been not-so-patiently waiting to ask all day long.
"Mrs. N, can we throw the ball in here?"
"Mrs. N, can I use the restroom?"
"Mrs. N, can we use your tape?"
"Mrs. N, why is this book called Niagara Falls, Or Does It? That doesn't even make sense."
"Mrs. N, can I use the computer?"
"Mrs. N, what is this for? What does it do? If you don't use it, why do you have it? Did you ever use it? Why don't you use it now?"
"Mrs. N, I know I'm not supposed to, but can I use your stapler just one time on my paper airplane?"
"Mrs. N, when the schedule says 'Math p. 88 - 89' does that mean we're using our math books?"
"Mrs. N, why does the green whiteboard marker actually look blue?"
"Mrs. N, did you know this picture has my cousin in it?"
On and on it goes, with me giving primarily one word answers which don't seem to faze them at all, the questions just keep coming while I keep hoping for a nine degree temperature jump...
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
~ Still Learning ~
As much as I teach them, they teach me just as much. For example, we just finished reading the book Because of Winn Dixie by one of my favorite authors, Kate DiCamillo. I've been reading this book aloud to kids for several years now. It's a great story, but one I've read many, many times. So I was surprised when my kids pointed out something I've never noticed before.
The main character's father is the pastor of a small Baptist church. His wife, the main character's mother, has left them before the book even starts, and that is something he won't talk about, even to his daughter. Throughout the book, the main character doesn't refer to her father as Dad or Daddy; she calls him "The Preacher." I had never really given it a second thought, until this year. As we were reading, S piped up.
"Why does she call her Dad 'the preacher?' That's pretty weird."
I asked for thoughts from the rest of the class, and they had some good ideas, all centering around the disconnect the main character feels from her father. As they were sharing, I was thinking, "I was an English major - I had to write incredibly lengthy essay answers to questions about stuff just like this. How is it that I've never noticed this relationship being mirrored in the name she calls her dad?"
But the kids weren't done. About a week later, we were getting close to finishing the book. There's a climactic scene with the girl and her dad looking for their lost dog, and she finally has the courage to ask her dad about why her mom left and why he didn't try to stop her. At last, her dad answers her questions and shares the hurt he's feeling too.
We're reading along, through the last chapter, when J blurts, "Hey, she started calling her daddy 'Daddy' instead of the preacher!" Again, we discussed why, and again, I thought to myself, "How did I miss this?"
It's another reminder for me that this, teaching, will never be just a rote job, a numb "do the same thing over and over" job. Every group is unique, every group has something to teach me, too.
The main character's father is the pastor of a small Baptist church. His wife, the main character's mother, has left them before the book even starts, and that is something he won't talk about, even to his daughter. Throughout the book, the main character doesn't refer to her father as Dad or Daddy; she calls him "The Preacher." I had never really given it a second thought, until this year. As we were reading, S piped up.
"Why does she call her Dad 'the preacher?' That's pretty weird."
I asked for thoughts from the rest of the class, and they had some good ideas, all centering around the disconnect the main character feels from her father. As they were sharing, I was thinking, "I was an English major - I had to write incredibly lengthy essay answers to questions about stuff just like this. How is it that I've never noticed this relationship being mirrored in the name she calls her dad?"
But the kids weren't done. About a week later, we were getting close to finishing the book. There's a climactic scene with the girl and her dad looking for their lost dog, and she finally has the courage to ask her dad about why her mom left and why he didn't try to stop her. At last, her dad answers her questions and shares the hurt he's feeling too.
We're reading along, through the last chapter, when J blurts, "Hey, she started calling her daddy 'Daddy' instead of the preacher!" Again, we discussed why, and again, I thought to myself, "How did I miss this?"
It's another reminder for me that this, teaching, will never be just a rote job, a numb "do the same thing over and over" job. Every group is unique, every group has something to teach me, too.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
~ I Heart Snow Days ~
A lovely 15 inches of snow fell through the weekend, leaving the roads a mess, and at our school, we got one of the loveliest gifts of all: a night before school cancellation.
No waking up ten minutes before the alarm, wondering if the phone will ring, or missing the call because you've given up hope and already jumped in the shower. Love it when the phone rings the night before and you don't even have to set the alarm. Aside from two snow days in a row, this is by far the best type of snow day.
Kids enter the room ready to work, teacher enters the room feeling as though she actually got enough sleep and is ready to deal with kids again.
Combine this with the fact that this gives us one four-day week and one two-day week right before Christmas break and this snow day couldn't have come at a better time.
I heart snow days.
No waking up ten minutes before the alarm, wondering if the phone will ring, or missing the call because you've given up hope and already jumped in the shower. Love it when the phone rings the night before and you don't even have to set the alarm. Aside from two snow days in a row, this is by far the best type of snow day.
Kids enter the room ready to work, teacher enters the room feeling as though she actually got enough sleep and is ready to deal with kids again.
Combine this with the fact that this gives us one four-day week and one two-day week right before Christmas break and this snow day couldn't have come at a better time.
I heart snow days.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
~ When Creativity (or Stupidity?) Attacks ~
After a particularly terrible, horrible, no-good, very-bad Thursday a few weeks ago, the kids were having a good Friday. They'd remembered they are fifth graders and decided to behave, follow directions, and engage in all around good behavior. What better way to reward good behavior on a Friday than to have a little extra recess?
The sun was shining and it wasn't too cold out yet, so we headed out. Football, basketball, and kickball games sprang up immediately, and I sat back and enjoyed the fact that it was Friday and it was sunny.
Nearly 15 minutes had passed when one of my moms showed up. She was dropping off lunch to her daughter and needed to let her know it was there, and she stopped to say hi to me, too. In the less than ninety seconds that my back was turned, I heard it start. At least half a dozen kids yelling at me and the only thing I could hear clearly was "bleeding!" After shushing the half dozen screamers, I saw him: D was making his way from the kickball game toward me crying and holding the back of his head, which was streaming blood down his neck and all over his shirt. When I asked what happened, he told me a rock hit the back of his head.
The mom volunteered to take him down to the office and I began a conversation with the other three kickball players.
"Did he fall and hit his head?"
"No, the rock hit his head."
"How did that happen?" I asked. This question produced three different answers:
1. "Well, um, we might have been just tossing some rocks in the air."
2. "Someone threw one, but I'm not sure who threw the one that actually hit D's head."
3. "Mrs. N, we got bored with kickball, so we were playing Dodge-Rocks."
I decided answer number three was probably closest to the truth, so I sent each of the kickball players to a different room to stew for a little while so I could calm down enough to talk with them.
While each one had a slightly different version, all the stories went something like this: We were bored. Then someone, and I don't know who, said, "Let's play Dodge-Rocks!" We decided to do that, and so we were throwing rocks and then one hit D's head and he started bleeding.
Since they were all throwing rocks, they all got detentions. Except D, since he was home with a bleeding head. In the office later that afternoon, the secretary told me that karma punished D. I asked what she meant and got the rest of the story. In the office, having his head examined and his mother called, D fessed up. Dodge-Rocks was his idea. His stupid idea. I'm not a believer in karma, but I'd say his own stupidity punished him that day. One less thing for me to do...
The sun was shining and it wasn't too cold out yet, so we headed out. Football, basketball, and kickball games sprang up immediately, and I sat back and enjoyed the fact that it was Friday and it was sunny.
Nearly 15 minutes had passed when one of my moms showed up. She was dropping off lunch to her daughter and needed to let her know it was there, and she stopped to say hi to me, too. In the less than ninety seconds that my back was turned, I heard it start. At least half a dozen kids yelling at me and the only thing I could hear clearly was "bleeding!" After shushing the half dozen screamers, I saw him: D was making his way from the kickball game toward me crying and holding the back of his head, which was streaming blood down his neck and all over his shirt. When I asked what happened, he told me a rock hit the back of his head.
The mom volunteered to take him down to the office and I began a conversation with the other three kickball players.
"Did he fall and hit his head?"
"No, the rock hit his head."
"How did that happen?" I asked. This question produced three different answers:
1. "Well, um, we might have been just tossing some rocks in the air."
2. "Someone threw one, but I'm not sure who threw the one that actually hit D's head."
3. "Mrs. N, we got bored with kickball, so we were playing Dodge-Rocks."
I decided answer number three was probably closest to the truth, so I sent each of the kickball players to a different room to stew for a little while so I could calm down enough to talk with them.
While each one had a slightly different version, all the stories went something like this: We were bored. Then someone, and I don't know who, said, "Let's play Dodge-Rocks!" We decided to do that, and so we were throwing rocks and then one hit D's head and he started bleeding.
Since they were all throwing rocks, they all got detentions. Except D, since he was home with a bleeding head. In the office later that afternoon, the secretary told me that karma punished D. I asked what she meant and got the rest of the story. In the office, having his head examined and his mother called, D fessed up. Dodge-Rocks was his idea. His stupid idea. I'm not a believer in karma, but I'd say his own stupidity punished him that day. One less thing for me to do...
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
~ A Good Surprise ~
Today started with a bad surprise. I'm here early every day, frantically trying to catch up on grading papers, and today was no exception. However, in the middle of grading a set of math papers, the principal came on the P.A. system. He sounded flustered as he asked any student in the hallway to take their backpacks and go to the cafeteria. I didn't think much of it - students who get dropped off in the morning are supposed to wait in the cafeteria, and I thought they were cracking down on students roaming the halls illegally.
About three minutes later, however, the P.A. system beeped again. It was the principal again, sounding a little more flustered. "Teachers, your students are being held on the buses, and you may want to grab your coats and wait outside."
After sitting outside for half an hour, we came back in and learned that a large backup battery in a computer lab had overheated and started to meltdown, producing a terrible sulfuric smell that enveloped the whole building. The fire department was called, and once it became clear that no one was in danger, they cleaned the smell out, replaced the battery, and let us back in the building.
I was dreading going back in. I was lining up backup plans (i.e. a movie) in case the kids couldn't settle down and work after the excitement and confusion. But they surprised me. They came in, got their things out, and went to work. I suggested they work on some Christmas word searches I gave them last week, but most of them opted to work on the writing project that's due this week instead.
Amazingly good surprise to end a morning that began with a bad surprise, leaving me so thankful for this group of kids once again.
About three minutes later, however, the P.A. system beeped again. It was the principal again, sounding a little more flustered. "Teachers, your students are being held on the buses, and you may want to grab your coats and wait outside."
After sitting outside for half an hour, we came back in and learned that a large backup battery in a computer lab had overheated and started to meltdown, producing a terrible sulfuric smell that enveloped the whole building. The fire department was called, and once it became clear that no one was in danger, they cleaned the smell out, replaced the battery, and let us back in the building.
I was dreading going back in. I was lining up backup plans (i.e. a movie) in case the kids couldn't settle down and work after the excitement and confusion. But they surprised me. They came in, got their things out, and went to work. I suggested they work on some Christmas word searches I gave them last week, but most of them opted to work on the writing project that's due this week instead.
Amazingly good surprise to end a morning that began with a bad surprise, leaving me so thankful for this group of kids once again.
Friday, December 3, 2010
~ There is no Autopilot ~
Which is more of a distraction: the preemptive strike or the patient pause and listen?
Situation: Math time. Multiplying by powers of ten. Kids are getting it and we're almost ready for independent work time. I see C out of the corner of my right eye reach towards a still-wrapped sucker on his desk, hear the crinkle as he lovingly caresses said sucker. "Mrs. N--" he starts. "No," I say, "C, the answer is no."
"But you didn't even hear the question," he says while the class chuckles at his crestfallen look.
"No sucker right now," I say, clarifying.
"But how did you know that?"
"I'm magic," I say as the class laughs.
Two minutes later, the buzz of talking has subsided and we're finally back on track, and I'm left wondering. Was my preemptive strike all that effective? Should I have been patient, listened to the question, and then answered? I know there isn't really a correct answer, but I still need to ask the question.
During my first few years of teaching, I used to long to be a more seasoned teacher, to have all the answers down. But that's no longer the kind of teacher I want to be. The wisdom I've gained is that there isn't an autopilot response for every situation, there isn't one right way to teach content. Constant evaluation and appropriate changes keep this job fresh and interesting.
Maybe I'll try the "patient pause and listen" next week....
Situation: Math time. Multiplying by powers of ten. Kids are getting it and we're almost ready for independent work time. I see C out of the corner of my right eye reach towards a still-wrapped sucker on his desk, hear the crinkle as he lovingly caresses said sucker. "Mrs. N--" he starts. "No," I say, "C, the answer is no."
"But you didn't even hear the question," he says while the class chuckles at his crestfallen look.
"No sucker right now," I say, clarifying.
"But how did you know that?"
"I'm magic," I say as the class laughs.
Two minutes later, the buzz of talking has subsided and we're finally back on track, and I'm left wondering. Was my preemptive strike all that effective? Should I have been patient, listened to the question, and then answered? I know there isn't really a correct answer, but I still need to ask the question.
During my first few years of teaching, I used to long to be a more seasoned teacher, to have all the answers down. But that's no longer the kind of teacher I want to be. The wisdom I've gained is that there isn't an autopilot response for every situation, there isn't one right way to teach content. Constant evaluation and appropriate changes keep this job fresh and interesting.
Maybe I'll try the "patient pause and listen" next week....
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
~Where to start?~
With a blog neglected as long as this one has been, knowing where to start is proving a bit difficult. So to recap:
*after a year in third grade, I've been moved back to fifth grade.
*after retirements and shuffling, I have a new set of co-workers in 5th grade.
*my partner teacher from 3rd grade was also moved to 5th grade, so we can continue to be partner teachers. Which means that....
*...I still don't have to teach science!!! Yeah!
As for the kids this year...well...they're nice. I don't have some of the crazy behavior I've had in years past. Nobody's having screaming breakdowns, or calling me names, or throwing things at other kids.
But of course, they have their moments...case in point: Veteran's Day.
Our school has an assembly on Veteran's Day to honor family & community members who have served in the military. It's often very moving, and typically a little bit lengthy as well. During the hour and a half we were there I confiscated two mini-skateboards (or TechDecks for those of you who know what those are) that were being mini-skated all over the floor and bodies of anyone sitting nearby, and removed one child from the rest of the class for pushing and grabbing at other kids.
After the assembly, we went to the library to check out books. At which point, three of them were removed to the office for crawling around on the floor chasing each other instead of checking out books.
Then it was back to the classroom, where the story of why there was such a commotion during the assembly came out. H. had taken A's dollar. Then threw it to another kid, who gave it back to A. Then, for some unclear reason, A continued to keep her dollar on her lap instead of in her pocket, which is when H took it again and gave it to K, who gave it to someone else to pass back to A, but somehow H ended up with it again, and it hadn't been seen since. Even though he insisted he didn't have it. Right. In the end, H agreed to pay A a dollar since he was the one who started taking it in the first place.
But, like I said, these are nice kids, and those kinds of days are few and far between. It's a lovely change - not dealing with crazy kids on top of lesson plans, new state regulations, and a mountain of papers to grade. It's one of the things I love about this job; change is always coming.
*after a year in third grade, I've been moved back to fifth grade.
*after retirements and shuffling, I have a new set of co-workers in 5th grade.
*my partner teacher from 3rd grade was also moved to 5th grade, so we can continue to be partner teachers. Which means that....
*...I still don't have to teach science!!! Yeah!
As for the kids this year...well...they're nice. I don't have some of the crazy behavior I've had in years past. Nobody's having screaming breakdowns, or calling me names, or throwing things at other kids.
But of course, they have their moments...case in point: Veteran's Day.
Our school has an assembly on Veteran's Day to honor family & community members who have served in the military. It's often very moving, and typically a little bit lengthy as well. During the hour and a half we were there I confiscated two mini-skateboards (or TechDecks for those of you who know what those are) that were being mini-skated all over the floor and bodies of anyone sitting nearby, and removed one child from the rest of the class for pushing and grabbing at other kids.
After the assembly, we went to the library to check out books. At which point, three of them were removed to the office for crawling around on the floor chasing each other instead of checking out books.
Then it was back to the classroom, where the story of why there was such a commotion during the assembly came out. H. had taken A's dollar. Then threw it to another kid, who gave it back to A. Then, for some unclear reason, A continued to keep her dollar on her lap instead of in her pocket, which is when H took it again and gave it to K, who gave it to someone else to pass back to A, but somehow H ended up with it again, and it hadn't been seen since. Even though he insisted he didn't have it. Right. In the end, H agreed to pay A a dollar since he was the one who started taking it in the first place.
But, like I said, these are nice kids, and those kinds of days are few and far between. It's a lovely change - not dealing with crazy kids on top of lesson plans, new state regulations, and a mountain of papers to grade. It's one of the things I love about this job; change is always coming.
Friday, June 4, 2010
~Holy Neglected Blog, Batman!~
Time does fly when you're....having fun?? No, that doesn't sound quite right....
Do over.
Time does fly when you're writing lesson plans, scraping chewing gum out of carpet, policing handheld pencil sharpeners, practicing multiplication facts, setting up science fair projects, chanting "Put your bottom on the chair and your feet on the floor" for the eighty-seven-thousandth time, making birthday root beer floats with no ice cream scoop, grading papers, dealing with the kid who has "no idea how that knife got in his pocket," getting another group of kids hooked on Harry Potter, introducing fractions, and bribing children to behave.
Oh, and my house burned down.
Suffice to say, I've been a busy girl since the departure of the student teacher. I have missed my independent fifth graders even more these past few months as I've had a lot to deal with in my other life, you know, the one outside of school in which dear hubby and I deal with insurance adjusters, investigators, contractors, etc, etc, etc. But it's looking like I may not miss those fifth graders much longer. As of last week, my position for next year was tentatively in fifth grade.
I have mixed feelings about this move. On the positive side, the amount of trivial, "Tell him to stop looking at me!" complaints will decrease significantly and I'll get to keep my classroom instead of spending summer vacation packing and moving it elsewhere. But, there'll be no more classroom content to play Heads Up Seven Up for ten minutes for a break and no more ability to say the word cock during spelling with no one snickering.
And of course, anything could change by next fall. If I've learned one thing over the years it's "Assume nothing." Ultimately, it truly doesn't matter to me anymore. Give me fifth, third, fourth, whatever...I have a job, which is something I'm thankful for each and every day.
Do over.
Time does fly when you're writing lesson plans, scraping chewing gum out of carpet, policing handheld pencil sharpeners, practicing multiplication facts, setting up science fair projects, chanting "Put your bottom on the chair and your feet on the floor" for the eighty-seven-thousandth time, making birthday root beer floats with no ice cream scoop, grading papers, dealing with the kid who has "no idea how that knife got in his pocket," getting another group of kids hooked on Harry Potter, introducing fractions, and bribing children to behave.
Oh, and my house burned down.
Suffice to say, I've been a busy girl since the departure of the student teacher. I have missed my independent fifth graders even more these past few months as I've had a lot to deal with in my other life, you know, the one outside of school in which dear hubby and I deal with insurance adjusters, investigators, contractors, etc, etc, etc. But it's looking like I may not miss those fifth graders much longer. As of last week, my position for next year was tentatively in fifth grade.
I have mixed feelings about this move. On the positive side, the amount of trivial, "Tell him to stop looking at me!" complaints will decrease significantly and I'll get to keep my classroom instead of spending summer vacation packing and moving it elsewhere. But, there'll be no more classroom content to play Heads Up Seven Up for ten minutes for a break and no more ability to say the word cock during spelling with no one snickering.
And of course, anything could change by next fall. If I've learned one thing over the years it's "Assume nothing." Ultimately, it truly doesn't matter to me anymore. Give me fifth, third, fourth, whatever...I have a job, which is something I'm thankful for each and every day.
Monday, February 8, 2010
~You know you're a teacher...~
You know you're a teacher when you're jealous of the two feet of snow that fell in Washington, D.C. because you haven't had a snow day since the beginning of December.
And the natives are getting restless...
And the natives are getting restless...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)