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.

Thankful Thursday

Thursday, oh Thursday, you've been so much kinder to me than Wednesday was.

* This Thursday I found my new favorite spelling mistake: AGHSOME. Allow me to translate for those of you who don't deal with creative spelling every day. aghsome = awesome. As in, "I'm having an aghsome morning!" I'm trying to think of anyplace, ever, where 'gh' makes a 'w' sound. So far, I'm drawing a blank. Any ideas?

* This Thursday I found the newest slogan I'd like tattooed to my forehead for later use. "Where is your MUTE button?" As seen on one of those T-shirts I can't believe parents actually spend money on and allow their children to wear. I don't think any child should be wearing a T-shirt which says that, but I can see where I could definitely use the slogan.

* This Thursday morning, since my kids are in the middle/end of roughly 40,000 projects and assignments, I declared this to be a work session morning. We made a list, I told them they were in charge of keeping track of where they were and how much time they had left, and we went to work. And amazingly enough, they're actually doing it! Aghsome!

* This Thursday morning, my autistic child came in, followed directions, and got all his work done without a single temper tantrum. Double aghsome!

Hope your day is as AGHSOME as mine - what do you have to be thankful for this Thursday?

Not quite what I had in mind

Today's spelling assignment: search and find words that end in Y and add a suffix to them.

First word they found: loganberry. Which they changed into loganberries.

I was thinking about more useful words...words that they may actually USE in their writing.

*sigh* I guess this works, too...

It is well

As much as I disagree with some of the things my administrator does in the building, I'm always thankful that she is a woman with strong faith, and that we have that in common.

So this morning I'm walking through the building to my classroom anticipating
~what kind of mood my autistic child will be in
~filling out a lengthy narrative report on another student who should qualify for special ed, but probably won't
~having another meeting with another specialist dealing with my autistic student
~having to redo fully half of the writing notebooks I graded yesterday because our computerized grading system booted me off without saving what I'd already done
~on top of the large basket of papers I've not had time to grade yet.

As I'm walking, the music my principal plays in the hallways in the morning starts to seep in through the rest of the stuff of life and teaching...
"It is well with my soul."
Amen

Objection

Random comment of the day, in the middle of a social studies work session.

R: "This music is veeeeerrrrry relaxing."

Mrs. N: "I'm glad you approve, R. It's called Music for Reading."

R: "But we're not reading, we're working....I guess it'll still work."