~ Things Teacher Ed. Programs Fail To Mention ~

...alternate title...These Things Only Happen To Me.

Thing One: How to continue teaching while in the middle of a massive nosebleed.

Shockingly, this topic is not covered in Introduction to Teaching Elementary, nor in any other college course. Fifth graders tend to understand that they need to chill and let you take care of things, so when you tell them to just work at their desks, they do it. Third graders, on the other hand, continue to bring you their worksheets to tell you they're finished, or that they don't get what to do. Luckily, Ms. L. rescued me and played Addition/Subtraction Bingo for fifteen minutes while my blood clotted.

Thing Two: How to get candle wax out of berber carpet so the principal and/or head of maintenance won't find out you spilled wax on the carpet and ban candles from your room, thus forcing you to endure the smell of ripe children.

While carpet cleaning is not on the list of topics, learning to teach cause and effect is. Observe: Because of the massive nosebleed, Ms. L played Bingo with my kids. Because Ms. L. was playing Bingo, she needed suckers for prizes. Because she needed suckers for prizes, she used the sucker jar on my desk. Because she used the sucker jar, the recently lit candle sitting next to it was accidentally knocked on the floor. Because it was knocked on the floor, candle wax splattered all over the carpet. Because of that, I learned something new today. Thanks to google, I now know that the best method for removing wax from carpet is to place an absorbant paper towel over the wax, and then iron the paper towel, causing the wax to melt and be absorbed into the towel.

So even though my carpet will probably have a slightly pinkish spot until they shampoo it next summer, and my room will likely smell like Cinnamon Apples for several weeks, I don't think anyone will notice....

unless you tell them, that is.....shhhh!

~ Define "bad" ~

Sitting at the computer today while Ms. L was having the kids pack up their stuff, I was startled by A. "T said a bad word," he blurted before running back to his desk. Without any other context, and fifteen minutes before Thanksgiving break, I decided to keep an eye out, but not pursue.

My mind was changed by B, who almost never says a word, when he came back in the room from getting his things from his locker and told me, "T said a bad word." I asked a few more questions this time, and found out it was the A word, said to another student. I asked the other student, and he told me the same thing.

I pulled T aside to investigate. He first tried to deny he said anything bad. When I pointed out the unlikeliness that three other people in class were lying to me about it, he tried a new one. "Well, sometimes at my house I hear voices when no one's there." Stifling laughter, I responded, "Really? So you think three different people in our class are hearing voices in their heads, and they all three think the voice is coming from you?" "I guess so," he says.

Since I was getting nowhere fast, I told T I was pretty sure he wasn't telling me the truth, and asked him to have a seat and think hard about what he might have said in the hallway. The tears came then, "Well, I guess maybe I said the d word to A." This was not what I'd heard, but at least he was admitting to something. I had him start on a letter to his mother, telling her what he'd done in school that day.

He worked away for a while, then announced he was done. "Ok, read it to me," I said. Here's how it went:

Dear Mom,
Today in school I called A a dummie.
From, T

"Oh, honey," I said, "you think dummie is the bad word you said? That's not a nice word, but that's not the bad word they told me you said. Three people, T, three people told me you said the A word." He didn't even deny it at that point. Just told me he wasn't sure how to spell that word. "Did you say it?" I asked. "Well, yeah, but I can't spell it."

What followed was a conversation in which he first pretended not to know any word that meant "not telling the truth," wondered why he had to add the fact that he lied to Mrs. N to his letter, then argued about having to have his mom sign the letter and return it to school.

Just in case I thought the half day before Thanksgiving was going to be an easy day. Guess I'll enjoy my break that much more now!

Pie, pie, and more pie

One of the things that didn't change when I came to third grade was the approach to writing. I've used Writer's Workshop and individual conferences with students for years, and while the lessons are a little different for younger writers, the basic structure is the same, and leads to moments with kids where they really get writing, and get excited about it.

D. came to tell me she was done with her story. "I read it, it makes sense." Her story went like this:

I love pie. I cud eat

pie all day

if I kud.

Reglar (regular)

charey

pie.

I love pie.

D. has a hard time writing. She doesn't read very well, which makes writing even harder. I started asking her questions. Why do you like pie so much? What's your favorite kind of pie? Why is that your favorite?

She started talking about making pie with her Grandma, and how her Grandma sometimes puts frosting on the bottom of a cherry pie, which makes it extra good. Just talking to me about it made her smile.

I knew we'd found it. "There's your story," I said, "Your first story basically says you like pie. I don't know anyone who doesn't like pie, but I've never heard of putting frosting in it."

D. went back and completely rewrote her story to tell about making pie with her Grandma and how that makes her feel. She ended up with something she was really proud of.

This is why I love Writer's Workshop, for kids like D. who absolutely hate writing when they come to me, and realize by the end that they do have a story to tell.

~ Something bad will happen ~

Third graders, in some respects, are easier than fifth graders. An obvious statement, perhaps, but I'm continually finding new ways that this is true.

For several years, I have done away with an established system of consequences. There's no checkmark, no first getting five minutes of recess taken, then ten, etc. I find it's much more effective to ask the child what they think should happen to them, or just tell them if they don't stop,

something bad will happen.

I've used that vaguely threatening phrase for several years, but I'm finding it to be much more effective with third graders because of conversations like this one, with J. On our way back from the Kindergarten bake sale, I asked students to walk quietly, single file, no voices. As usual. And then, I used my vaguely threatening phrase, "If you decide to talk, you can be sure something bad will happen." Which was when J piped up, "Like getting our snack taken away, Mrs. N?"

I almost thanked him for giving me his consequence, and had to keep myself from laughing out loud. "That would be really bad, wouldn't it J?"

Fifth graders usually know when to shut up, so you don't get these kinds of insights into exactly what they don't want to have happen.

I think they might be growing on me...

~Perspective~

While out of my room so the student teacher could teach without students interrupting to ask me a question, I escaped to the computer lab. As I sat there, typing out a Social Studies outline for the year, a parapro from the autistic room came in with a student.

I think they were learning verbs, because she had a set of cards that she showed him and he'd have to say, "The boy is running" or swimming or jumping.

From the get-go, this student was agitated. "No school!" he kept blurting. She'd patiently reply, "Yes, school."

After nearly every card he completed, his first request was, "New cards, please!" with increasing urgency. She continued to patiently ignore him and give him the next card.

In my most frustrating day, I have less repetition and agitation to deal with than she did in the fifteen minutes she worked with him. Yet I still find myself losing my patience with kids when I've had to remind them again how to add, or subtract with borrowing.

What a reminder to take a deep breath and remember the patience God has with me.

~ Too Much Information ~

Our little class has been working hard all month to collect personal connections to the books we're reading. Last week, each student had to have their own connection to the book they're reading written in their reading journal. Most of them did a nice job. So did A., although his was possibly a little too enlightening:

"I'm reading Captain Underpants. He wanders around in his underwear a lot. And so do I."

~Why's that again?~

We're finishing the state testing this week. MEAP. My favorite thing ever. Fifth graders are so over MEAP testing, but for third graders? Well, it's their first time, and they have lots of questions.

The biggest question? "Why do we have to use Number 2 pencils?" We gave them a couple of Number 2 pencils at the beginning of the week. When we got to the second day of testing, we asked them to get their number two pencils out. Pens, odd pencils, and crayons came out, along with the question. WHY the number 2 pencil?

"Because," we told them, "number 2 pencils make the computers that grade your test happy. We have to make the computer happy."

But still, each testing session brought about more questions. T actually got a little teary eyed when I took his camoflauge pencil away and handed him a good old number 2. "But WHY?" he whined.

And just now, as Ms L read a funny story about standardized testing, another question. "Why do you have to use a number two pencil?"

"TO MAKE THE COMPUTER HAPPY!" the rest of the class informed him.

Who would have thought this was what they'd have trouble with?