You Decide

And note my label on the post below: inflated ego. Does that refer to me, or my ex-teammate? That's for you to decide!

Far Be It For Me To Be Spiteful...

Ok. Last year I taught with this young gal who thought she knew it all. Last year was her 5th year of teaching, and she did it well. Just ask her. Since she and I were the only two sixth grade teachers, we were a "team."

Her idea of teaming, though, was to make sure we were on the same page in math. We'd meet every Tuesday morning to "plan."

"This week I'll begin unit two," she'd say. That was about the only planning we did.

However, I'd send her ideas as I came up with them (I'm somewhat random that way; I often get great ideas for lessons in the shower...). I'd send her forms I created. Since I hadn't been in the regular classroom for some years, though, I did appreciate her input on things. I believe she truly thought she knew more than me. Plus, she had a science background, and was our science "guru" at our building. This all went to her head.

It wasn't until the spring that I discovered she did LOTS of units/lessons and didn't share them with me. After the third time of seeing an email from her to the rest of the teachers in our wing, requesting the laptop cart since she was beginning a research project (which I never knew about), I called her on it.

I had just sent her an attachment of some form or something I had created that I thought she'd like. She sent a reply thanking me. I replied, stating that it was my pleasure to share, as that was what teaming was all about, and what about that research project you are doing? We just met yesterday and you didn't even mention it. This is the third time this has happened.

Well, that opened a Pandora's Box, let me tell you. She got all upset over the email; it all escalated until there we were in our principal's office discussing the teaming issue. She actually told our principal that some things she just didn't want to share. Some things she used her own time to create, and she had ownership of it, and she only wanted it for her. My jaw dropped over that. Even more so when the principal didn't even bat an eye.

Excuse me? We are a team, aren't we? Yet it is ok not to share ideas? And don't we all use our personal time to create units?

The outcome of that meeting was that we didn't even try to work together the rest of the year. I'm sure she thought I'd fall on my face, but honey, I've taught for 20 years, and that just didn't happen. If I hadn't been able to change teams like I did, I would have left for another school.

Fast forward to this year and the WASL results. For sixth grade, only 50% of our students passed the math portion. That seemed so low to me I was embarrassed. Half of my class didn't pass math? But the other day I counted up the passes in my class. In my class, my passage rate was 60.6%, above the state passage rate of 49.5%. And my lovely teammate's rate? 42%. Her class brought our school's passing rate down. Not mine. I did a fine job. I guess maybe she should have worked a little more closely with me. She might have learned a thing or two.

But far be it for me to say, "I told you so..."

Questions to Ponder

Why do I bother with a blog if no one reads it? And do I really want them to?

Why do people have call waiting? Why can't they just let the person leave a message if they are on the phone already talking to someone? Are they continually judging calls, seeing who is more worthy to talk to at the moment (ie: "Oops, I need to get this other line. Call you back!" or "I'm on the line with so-and-so; I'll have to call you back."). If the person you are already talking to is an important person or call, why answer the other line anyway? I think it is all just to make you feel self-important.

Survivor-episode two thoughts

The religious fanatic is going to drive me nuts. She's the one that wouldn't take part in the Chinese cultural ceremony because the bible says not to bow before other gods. So now she's upset because she needs some alone time with god.

"But he put me here for a reason," she said.

I hate that. Like god doesn't have other pressing issues right now that he took the time to send her on Survivor so that she has a chance to win a million dollars? Well, he's got a lot of time on his hands, then...but I guess he does work in mysterious ways. Maybe somehow it will all tie in to the great number of deaths in the Iraq war, and then it'll all make sense. Or the homeless. I'm sure there's a reason for that as well.

What a selfish statement.

How About Completing the Homework You've Got?

This morning I had to attend a meeting before school with the speech teacher, one of my students (the boy who sucks his thumb), and his mother. His mother is a talker, about nothing in particular, yet everything under the sun. Soon, she got on the subject of homework.

"Johnny needs more homework," she told me smugly. "He says the work this year is too easy for him." She went on to say how much homework she remembered having in 6th grade, and how much homework his sibling in high school has. "Johnny just doesn't have enough homework," she concluded.

"Hmmm..." I said.

Luckily, it was Johnny's birthday, and after the meeting the mom was going to bring in cupcakes. So I went back to my classroom, and looked at my meticulously-kept records of homework from last week. Out of 6 homework assignments, Johnny completed two of them. I gleefully waited for Johnny's mom to come back to the room.

"You know, I'm glad you brought up the topic of homework," I said. "I've just checked my record sheet of last week's homework, and I see that Johnny only turned in two of the six assignment."

"Really?" she asked.

"Yes," I continued. "And on Friday, he brought home a 'Missed Homework Assignments' packet, which he just told me he didn't do."

Well, that knocked the wind out of her sails. I then heard all of the excuses, from a lazy ex-husband who doesn't make sure homework gets done, to a last-year's teacher who had low expectations of the kids, to her not knowing what the homework is. No, she hasn't seen the planner that we use daily to write down the homework. Oh, do you post your homework on your website?

Pay attention, Lady, and stop making excuses for your son. Stop babying him, which may be why he sucks his thumb.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

I think I've fallen in love, and I feel a bit guilty. After all the years and the times spent together. But you know, my needs just weren't being met. I don't understand why, after all of this time, but I'm just tired of thinking, "Maybe next time I'll be satisfied."

But it just wasn't happening. And tonight I met someone new. It felt good-I'm excited about this relationship. It has lots of possibilities, and let me say that after years of disappointment, I feel alive once again. I look in the mirror and like what I see-a happy, confident woman.

But now, as in high school, I must break off this current relationship that has been leaving me unfulfilled for years. It's time to move on. I think I've found a new hairdresser. And I believe I will be happy.

Questions, Anyone?

Today I began my math time in the usual fashion: I put up a blank copy of the homework page on my screen, and asked the kids if they had any problems or had any questions. The kids looked at me blankly.

"C'mon," I said. "Yesterday no one asked me any questions, but when I looked at the homework, some people had left problems unanswered. This is the time to ask questions, so I can help you. It's my job...." Etc., etc.

Still they stared at me. Finally, one of my students raised his hand. I called on him, thanking him profusely for "taking charge of his learning" and asking a question.

"What's dandruff?" he asked.

I had to quickly review the homework, which was about reading circle graphs. Indeed, the graphs all showed "results" from a "survey" about whether or not you'd alert someone to the fact that they had a smudge on their face, food stuck in their teeth, or had dandruff.

The question made perfect sense. I explained what dandruff was. I am a teacher.

Survivor

Yay! Last night was the season premier of Survivor! Usually, I root for the teacher, knowing that with what they make, they could really use the million dollars. If there aren't any teachers, I tend to vote for someone in Public Service, especially if they work with troubled youth (I was a Rupert fan...). But this season I may veer from my norm. I think I'll be rooting for the "gay Mormon Flight Attendant." I love it!

'Nuf Said...

I frequently write letters to the local paper when I read something that irks me. Never political. I get letters published in the paper frequently, though. I just had a letter published recently about the Duggars and the fact that they just had their 17th child (and apparently aren't finished breeding yet!). Anyway, usually if I get a letter published, I'm told via email ahead of time. This morning, though, as I was leafing through the "SE County Living," my name jumps off the page. They had published a letter that I had written about a week ago. Here's the letter:

Title: Bear was just protecting her young.

"If the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service kills the bear that attacked the biker at Banner Forest Heritage Park, and that bear was in fact the mother of two bear cubs, then the service has essentially killed three bears ("Port Orchard man attacked by bear is in satisfactory shape," Local News, Sept. 4).

That's so sad; the mother bear was just protecting her young, like any good mother would do. Why do we think we have to control nature this way?"

What angered me about the article mentioned is that another biker interviewed that day had seen a femal bear with her two cubs, and then I read that the adult is going to be killed because it turned on a biker who probably came up so fast and scared her. So they are going to orphan two bear cubs? If it was a mother bear, you'd think that efforts would be made instead to relocate the mother and cubs to a more remote location. I can't stand it when I read about things like this; officials killing the wild animal whose habitat we have invaded.

I'm surprised, though, that the letter was published today. I think I read the original article last weekend, and I believe that the person has since insisted that it wasn't a mother bear but a male bear...He was quoted in another article saying something about the bear at some point being on top of him and he was definitely a male. Hmmmm.

First Day of School Trauma (A Bad Mommy Moment)

The first day of school was last Tuesday, September 4th. My day went so smoothly. The kids in my class seem to be fairly calm and settle down to work. The only real unusual kid is the one who sucks his thumb while he plays with the hair on his head-and remember that I teach 6th grade...

Anyway, this is the first year that Emily and Stella are not going to the same school. Stella is in fourth grade at the elementary school, and Emily is in sixth grade at the middle school. I knew this would be hard on them, as they are great buddies and rely on each other quite alot. I actually figured it would be hardest on Emily, since Stella has always seemed to be my "roll with the punches, happy-go-lucky" girl.

This year, Emily has to leave for the bus before Stella, which means that we had to get Stella a house key, since she'd be the one having to lock up in the morning. During the summer I had bought her a "key strap" to wear around her neck from the Seattle Aquarium, and also got her a key made that had rainbows on it. She loved them, and was excited to be responsible for a key.

Only thing, I never thought about having to try the key out to make sure it worked, or to practice in advance to make sure that Stella could, in fact, lock the door on her own.

Tuesday morning was busy with all four of us having our first day of school. But we all got up and got ready, and I took pictures of each girl on the front porch-a posed "first day" picture since I can no longer take one of them as they actually leave the house and get on the bus. I made sure both girls had backpacks and lunch ready to go and had their keys. Then I kissed them and wished them well, and I headed off to my school.

When I got to my school, I put my purse in my metal file cabinet, and began my day. As I said, it went surprisingly smooth. It was a good day. After my day was over and I had returned to my classroom, I realized that Emily would be home from school, and I was dying to know how her first day of middle school went. I got my purse out of the file cabinet. I got my cell phone, opened it, and then realized that since it was in the metal cabinet I hadn't had any reception all day long. I had forgotten my morning ritual of taking out the cell phone and putting it on my desk before putting my purse in the file cabinet, just in case the girls needed to get ahold of me.

As the phone picked up service again, I saw that someone had tried to call me from home that morning. Thinking Emily must have missed her bus, since it was a new time and stop for her, and wondering how she got to school, I listened to the voicemail. And my heart almost stopped.

The message began, and it was Stella. And it was the most desperate crying and wailing I've ever heard from her. I couldn't make out what she was saying except for the desperate pleas of "Mommy, where are you? Mommy, I need you! Mommy, pick up the phone!"

My heart was beating so fast and my knees were weak. I had to sit down. I quickly called Eric to see if she had called him that morning, but I only got his voicemail (It makes you wonder why we have cell phones when it failed twice that day...). I left a message for him to call me ASAP, that Stella had left this awful message and I had no idea what had happened that morning.

I then called our neighbor. The original plan for Stella that morning was that she would leave the house after eating her breakfast and would walk down the street to her friend's house. Her friend's mom had taken the day off to make sure the first day of catching the bus went smoothly. So I knew the mom would be home. I called her, and had to leave a message. I was scared, and my message, I'm sure, was also sounding quite desperate.

Mid-message, though, the mom picked up. "What happened to Stella?" I screamed...

She laughed, and explained what happened. Apparently, Stella had a hard time even getting the key into the lock. Once she figured that out, the key wouldn't turn in the lock, and she couldn't then get it out of the lock. She then panicked. That's when she ran and called me on the cell phone and left that desperate message. Finally, she had the sense to go down to the neighbor's house as planned, and get help (the mom is actually a 911 operator, and good with emergencies!). They both walked back to the house, and practiced with the key. By then, though, Stella had had quite an emotional morning, and asked the mom to drive them to school, which she did.

Later that night I let Eric listen to the message. For some reason, he put it on speaker phone, and Stella began to cry all over again (thanks, Eric....). He quickly shut it off. He said the message was disturbing. Stella has not had a wonderful week of school; she is still getting frustrated easily over things, and wishes that Emily was still there. I never expected this, and it's going to take some time for her to adjust to it all, I guess.

Luckily, Emily has been having a positive middle school beginning. Good. I couldn't take it if they both were having trouble adjusting this year.

Hey Buddy, Can You Make the Right Change? A Teachable Moment...

Yesterday I needed to pick up a few things from Office Depot. I ended up buying three mouse pads (the ones in my room were awfully old and definitely not good feng shui), and a few magnetic clips for my Job chart. I went to pay, and the total came to $23.13. I handed the gal $30.00, and then looked to see if I had the correct change. I didn't.

"Sorry," I said. "I don't have thirteen cents."

"Do you have three pennies?" the gal asked.

"Not even that," I replied.

So she rang up the bill, and entered the amount I had paid. Then she said something like shoot. I looked at the register and could tell that she had entered $30.13 for the amount I paid, and it showed that I should get $7.00 back in change. However, I did not pay her that amount, as i didn't have change.

She had no idea how to fix this situation. Of course, all she had to do was to mentally subtract thirteen cents from $7.00. But she grabbed a pen and paper and tried to do the appropriate calculations, but couldn't do it. Then she searched her area for something, and called out to another employee to borrow a calculator. It was sad and comical at the same time.

"Look," I said. "When I was 15, I didn't get a job at an ice cream store because I couldn't make change. But the person taught me how. This is what you do..."

I showed her how to start from the amount of the purchase, and then to count up with the change, and then the dollars, until you get to the amount paid. She looked so doubtful that I worried she thought I was pulling a fast one on her, even though I was wearing my school badge (teachers are always trustworthy, right?). I told her that's how we made change in the days before the register did all of your thinking for you.

Still, I find it amazing that someone like that who obviously has gone through the school system cannot figure out how to make change. When the computer systems go down, the world will fall apart.