Saturday, June 28, 2008
Just Like I Imagined It Would Be!
So far, I've had a wonderful summer break. I get up in the morning, make coffee, and when it's ready, I go out onto our deck. I sit in the morning sunshine, listening to the birds, while I sip my coffee and read my book. It's paradise!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Hey, Hey, Hey...
Last week was the last day of school for everyone in my family. My husband and girls were done last Tuesday; I was done on Friday.
Anyway, on Tuesday I got an email from Stella's teacher, asking if Stella had permission to bring home one of the crayfish that they'd been studying in their class. I knew that Stella REALLY wanted to bring one home, so I said sure. We emailed back and forth for a bit as we tried to figure out how Stella would get it home (not allowed on the bus, apparently...). Finally, it was decided that my husband could pick up the crayfish in the school's office and bring it home. Fine. When I got home that day, Stella had three crayfish, and was very happy.
I expected that Stella knew all there was to take care of a crayfish, but for some reason this was not so. We are learning. I've learned that they stink. Very much. They are also quite funny to watch when they get into their defensive mode, which is whenever they sense you are trying to get them. They back into a corner, and throw both claws up into the air (they look like miniature lobster), almost completely over their back! It reminds of the scene from "Finding Nemo," when Nemo finally escapes the dentist's office and makes it to the sea. He is swimming along the water treatment pipe, and the crabs there put up their claws, saying, "Hey, hey, hey..."
We've also learned that they can climb and escape. Last Friday was my last day of school, and I was soooo tired. Both girls had a friend over to spend the night, as that night was the showing of "Camp Rock." They were all in the playroom, it was late, and I was just crawling into bed. After warning them all not to wake me, or else, I got in bed and read for a bit, then turned out the light and got comfortable.
Just then, the door bursts open, and a tearful Stella enters the room. She tells me she just checked on the crayfish, and there was only one in the bin! So, I grumpily get up and go into her room. Sure enough, there is only one in the bin. Well, I just was in no mood to deal with this situation, and I was put further into a bad mood as I look around her room, taking in the wall-to-wall crap on the floor. How in the heck will I find two crayfish in all that mess?
Not knowing how they were able to escape (it must have been an intrically arranged escape plan), I began to just blindly pull books off the shelves of the bookcase that the crayfish tub was sitting on, yelling at Stella about the condition of her room the whole time. She is in tears, and who knows what the other girls were thinking in the other room. I finally just sent Stella to the playroom with instructions to stay there. I could hear the other girls try to console her.
I went downstairs, saying choice words the whole time, and told my husband what had happened. Then I went back upstairs and into Stella's room. I stood there in the middle of all that mess, made worse from my mad-throwing of items, and all of a sudden, there was one of the crayfish. Guess what? He was backed up against the wall, not real far from the bookcase, with his little claws thrown up over his head. I finally was able to pick him up, and I put him back into the bin.
"Hmmm," I thought. "If one didn't get very far, the other probably didn't, either." I could hear the two crayfish moving around in the bin. I listened more closely. I hear other similar sounds coming from a pile of books on the floor. I moved one. Nothing. I moved another, and there was the other crayfish, claws thrown up over his head! Hey, hey, hey....I put him back into the bin, and found a more secure top to keep it covered.
I told Stella that I had found both. But the next day she wasn't allowed to do a thing until she cleaned her room.
Anyway, on Tuesday I got an email from Stella's teacher, asking if Stella had permission to bring home one of the crayfish that they'd been studying in their class. I knew that Stella REALLY wanted to bring one home, so I said sure. We emailed back and forth for a bit as we tried to figure out how Stella would get it home (not allowed on the bus, apparently...). Finally, it was decided that my husband could pick up the crayfish in the school's office and bring it home. Fine. When I got home that day, Stella had three crayfish, and was very happy.
I expected that Stella knew all there was to take care of a crayfish, but for some reason this was not so. We are learning. I've learned that they stink. Very much. They are also quite funny to watch when they get into their defensive mode, which is whenever they sense you are trying to get them. They back into a corner, and throw both claws up into the air (they look like miniature lobster), almost completely over their back! It reminds of the scene from "Finding Nemo," when Nemo finally escapes the dentist's office and makes it to the sea. He is swimming along the water treatment pipe, and the crabs there put up their claws, saying, "Hey, hey, hey..."
We've also learned that they can climb and escape. Last Friday was my last day of school, and I was soooo tired. Both girls had a friend over to spend the night, as that night was the showing of "Camp Rock." They were all in the playroom, it was late, and I was just crawling into bed. After warning them all not to wake me, or else, I got in bed and read for a bit, then turned out the light and got comfortable.
Just then, the door bursts open, and a tearful Stella enters the room. She tells me she just checked on the crayfish, and there was only one in the bin! So, I grumpily get up and go into her room. Sure enough, there is only one in the bin. Well, I just was in no mood to deal with this situation, and I was put further into a bad mood as I look around her room, taking in the wall-to-wall crap on the floor. How in the heck will I find two crayfish in all that mess?
Not knowing how they were able to escape (it must have been an intrically arranged escape plan), I began to just blindly pull books off the shelves of the bookcase that the crayfish tub was sitting on, yelling at Stella about the condition of her room the whole time. She is in tears, and who knows what the other girls were thinking in the other room. I finally just sent Stella to the playroom with instructions to stay there. I could hear the other girls try to console her.
I went downstairs, saying choice words the whole time, and told my husband what had happened. Then I went back upstairs and into Stella's room. I stood there in the middle of all that mess, made worse from my mad-throwing of items, and all of a sudden, there was one of the crayfish. Guess what? He was backed up against the wall, not real far from the bookcase, with his little claws thrown up over his head. I finally was able to pick him up, and I put him back into the bin.
"Hmmm," I thought. "If one didn't get very far, the other probably didn't, either." I could hear the two crayfish moving around in the bin. I listened more closely. I hear other similar sounds coming from a pile of books on the floor. I moved one. Nothing. I moved another, and there was the other crayfish, claws thrown up over his head! Hey, hey, hey....I put him back into the bin, and found a more secure top to keep it covered.
I told Stella that I had found both. But the next day she wasn't allowed to do a thing until she cleaned her room.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
The Edge
The other day, when my students were working in the morning on their "ABC Book of 6th Grade Memories," two of my boys came over to me. "Can we go talk to Mr. Moyer?" they asked me.
Now, Mr. Moyer often deals with discipline, as he is going to begin his internship next year for principal. I assumed, though, that something had happened where these boys were accused of wrongdoing by Mr. Moyer, and they wanted to explain some of the details.
"No, you can't go right now. Mr. Moyer is teaching," I replied.
They started to turn away, and one boy said to the other, "We'd better tell Mrs. Hager, then." So they proceeded to tell me that a student in my class (he came new April 1st, a lousy April Fool's joke...)had a knife in his desk.
"Alan, come here," I said. He came over. "You are being accused of having a knife in you desk. Is this right?"
Alan denied it. "Well," I said. "Then empty out your desk to prove it."
Alan then just got mad, and stormed out of the room. I went into the hall, and he was halfway to the outside door. "Alan, get back here," I commanded. But he continued out the door.
I went back into the totally-quiet room, and called the office. I explained that Alan had been accused of having a knife in his desk, and when asked to empty his desk, he stormed out. "He wouldn't come back. He just left," I said.
A bit later, our Education Assisstant came in. I showed her Alan's desk. The boys said it was in the top section. She pulled out his things, but we didn't find a knife. Then she opened his binder, and we did find the knife. It was folding knife, but it was no pocket knife. It was a serious knife for the outdoors person. She took it with her.
Soon I got an email from our principal, informing me that Alan was being suspended for 3.5 days, meaning that he would not return to my classroom this year. I did a dance of joy. It makes my life easier.
It made me think. I've been teaching since 1987. I've had two experiences with kids bringing knives to school. One this year. And one last year. This stuff never happened in my sheltered school district where I came from 3 years ago...
It brings a new meaning to "Living on the Edge..."
Now, Mr. Moyer often deals with discipline, as he is going to begin his internship next year for principal. I assumed, though, that something had happened where these boys were accused of wrongdoing by Mr. Moyer, and they wanted to explain some of the details.
"No, you can't go right now. Mr. Moyer is teaching," I replied.
They started to turn away, and one boy said to the other, "We'd better tell Mrs. Hager, then." So they proceeded to tell me that a student in my class (he came new April 1st, a lousy April Fool's joke...)had a knife in his desk.
"Alan, come here," I said. He came over. "You are being accused of having a knife in you desk. Is this right?"
Alan denied it. "Well," I said. "Then empty out your desk to prove it."
Alan then just got mad, and stormed out of the room. I went into the hall, and he was halfway to the outside door. "Alan, get back here," I commanded. But he continued out the door.
I went back into the totally-quiet room, and called the office. I explained that Alan had been accused of having a knife in his desk, and when asked to empty his desk, he stormed out. "He wouldn't come back. He just left," I said.
A bit later, our Education Assisstant came in. I showed her Alan's desk. The boys said it was in the top section. She pulled out his things, but we didn't find a knife. Then she opened his binder, and we did find the knife. It was folding knife, but it was no pocket knife. It was a serious knife for the outdoors person. She took it with her.
Soon I got an email from our principal, informing me that Alan was being suspended for 3.5 days, meaning that he would not return to my classroom this year. I did a dance of joy. It makes my life easier.
It made me think. I've been teaching since 1987. I've had two experiences with kids bringing knives to school. One this year. And one last year. This stuff never happened in my sheltered school district where I came from 3 years ago...
It brings a new meaning to "Living on the Edge..."
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Learning to Write
For the last essay of the year, I had my students write a 5-paragraph essay on "Moving On." My 6th graders will be leaving elementary school on Friday, and moving on to a new chapter in their lives. I was hoping for essays with lots of sentimental feeling, and I really didn't get that. Oh, well.
I was reading Viktor's essay. Viktor is Ukranian. I'm not sure how long he's been in America, but still talks and writes broken English, and goes daily to his English Language Learner class. His essay, although poor by english grammar status, had great voice to it. I could tell he worked hard to convey the scenes and feelings of saying goodbye. It was a nice essay.
At the end of the essay, he wrote a "PS," as if he had just finished a letter. "PS: I think this is the best paper I've written..."
Yes, it was good. And how could I not give him a score higher than I've ever given him this year? I could tell he was really proud.
Alissa, of "exmention extansion" fame, wrote that on the last day of school, tears would be "running down her chicks..."
5 more days of school...
I was reading Viktor's essay. Viktor is Ukranian. I'm not sure how long he's been in America, but still talks and writes broken English, and goes daily to his English Language Learner class. His essay, although poor by english grammar status, had great voice to it. I could tell he worked hard to convey the scenes and feelings of saying goodbye. It was a nice essay.
At the end of the essay, he wrote a "PS," as if he had just finished a letter. "PS: I think this is the best paper I've written..."
Yes, it was good. And how could I not give him a score higher than I've ever given him this year? I could tell he was really proud.
Alissa, of "exmention extansion" fame, wrote that on the last day of school, tears would be "running down her chicks..."
5 more days of school...
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Monday, June 9, 2008
Duh...
Today after school I was monitoring "Parent Pick-Up," which means I stand by our old school bell until the last bus has left, then I herd any children still waiting to be picked up into the office.
A boy of about 8 or 9 years old was waiting, and we struck up a conversation. "I got my book orders today!" he exclaimed.
"That's exciting," I said. "What did you get?"
"Books," he replied.
9 more days of school...
A boy of about 8 or 9 years old was waiting, and we struck up a conversation. "I got my book orders today!" he exclaimed.
"That's exciting," I said. "What did you get?"
"Books," he replied.
9 more days of school...
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Oops (on their part...)
So I managed to stay awake today, and fairly focused on the class. After school I left for home as soon as I could. I do have a raging headache...
When I got home and got into the house, Emily comes running to me waving a certificate that looked like the cerificates from last night's awards program. I took it and read it, and it was for the "Language Arts Departmental Award." She was very happy.
Not quite sure what happened. They definitely did not call her name last night. Her name must have been left off the list, yet there was a certificate for her. It's too bad she didn't get to get it last night, and that she had to be so disappointed for nothing. She's much happier.
Still not sure what the lesson is here, but I'm sure proud of my daughter!
When I got home and got into the house, Emily comes running to me waving a certificate that looked like the cerificates from last night's awards program. I took it and read it, and it was for the "Language Arts Departmental Award." She was very happy.
Not quite sure what happened. They definitely did not call her name last night. Her name must have been left off the list, yet there was a certificate for her. It's too bad she didn't get to get it last night, and that she had to be so disappointed for nothing. She's much happier.
Still not sure what the lesson is here, but I'm sure proud of my daughter!
Rambling Musings Because I Can't Sleep
Last night was Awards Night at my daughter's middle school. The only kids who were invited were those kids who scored a 3.2 GPA average or above. Emily has worked very hard this year, and has kept straight As, except for getting a B+ in science for third term which was during the madness of nightly play rehearsals. This, unfortunately, kept her from receiving the "Straight As" award.
But she got another harsh lesson in life last night. You might be an incredible kid, kind, a fantastic role model, a friend to all, but a bit shy, so you don't always stand out. And those kids are, perhaps, sometimes looked over for the "6th Grader of the Year" award, or the "Science Award," or the "Language Arts Award," or the...You get my drift.
I could see her deflate as the night went on. And she is an outstanding kid. I think I'd say that even if she wasn't mine...I see many, many kids over the years, and I know what Emily must be like in school. But apparently she doesn't "shine" in that way that always gets noticed.
I know she was real disappointed that the only award she got was for "3.2 GPA or better," which was what everyone at the awards night got, since that was the requirement to get invited. And however much I pointed out that that in itself was an achievement, that not every kid got invited, it didn't matter.
It's true that as I listened to the qualities verbalized why a particular student was chosen for a particular award, I thought, "Oh, Emily will get this one! She has all that!" And I'd be ready to take a picture, but they wouldn't call her name.
The principal's twin daughters received many awards. So is there a lesson there? Probably so. And no matter how much I preach that she needs to do well because she wants to, and not because she might get an award, it doesn't lessen her disappointment.
There are so many people in this world who do fabulous things for humanity but don't get recognized for it. Perhaps that's what makes a person truly great: They do those things for the intrinsic rewards-and not for fame.
Sometimes I wonder what I have done in Emily's almost-13 years where she is disappointed in her one certificate, because she didn't get any others...And I'm afraid that I'm capable of being just only so sympathetic over it, and then I just say, "Oh, Emily! Get over it!"
But she got another harsh lesson in life last night. You might be an incredible kid, kind, a fantastic role model, a friend to all, but a bit shy, so you don't always stand out. And those kids are, perhaps, sometimes looked over for the "6th Grader of the Year" award, or the "Science Award," or the "Language Arts Award," or the...You get my drift.
I could see her deflate as the night went on. And she is an outstanding kid. I think I'd say that even if she wasn't mine...I see many, many kids over the years, and I know what Emily must be like in school. But apparently she doesn't "shine" in that way that always gets noticed.
I know she was real disappointed that the only award she got was for "3.2 GPA or better," which was what everyone at the awards night got, since that was the requirement to get invited. And however much I pointed out that that in itself was an achievement, that not every kid got invited, it didn't matter.
It's true that as I listened to the qualities verbalized why a particular student was chosen for a particular award, I thought, "Oh, Emily will get this one! She has all that!" And I'd be ready to take a picture, but they wouldn't call her name.
The principal's twin daughters received many awards. So is there a lesson there? Probably so. And no matter how much I preach that she needs to do well because she wants to, and not because she might get an award, it doesn't lessen her disappointment.
There are so many people in this world who do fabulous things for humanity but don't get recognized for it. Perhaps that's what makes a person truly great: They do those things for the intrinsic rewards-and not for fame.
Sometimes I wonder what I have done in Emily's almost-13 years where she is disappointed in her one certificate, because she didn't get any others...And I'm afraid that I'm capable of being just only so sympathetic over it, and then I just say, "Oh, Emily! Get over it!"
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
At Least It Was Spelled Right
Today one of my students wrote "f--- you" in crayon on the back counter where the kids sign in for lunch.
12 more days...
12 more days...
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Do You Still Need Me?
I'm sitting at the computer (obviously), with a steaming hot cup of coffee (decaf). In a quiet house. No kids. No husband. They are still in school. I love it.
Of course, the reason I'm home today is that I used a personal day so that I could help chaperone a field trip with my older daughter's 6th grade class. It was a minus tide today, and they were going to the beach to study marine life. And remember, I made a promise to myself to chaperone all the field trips I could. I also looked forward to a day in June at the beach.
Except for when I woke up this morning, it was pouring down rain. I optimistically listened to the weather forecast, which predicted the rain to let up in the afternoon (as of right now, it has let up...). Still, I dressed for the rain and cold in a turtle neck shirt, jeans, my hiking boots, and heavy rain coat. It was like 6th grade camp in the rain all over again.
I showed up at the middle school at the scheduled time, and all the chaperones were herded into the cafeteria for instructions. Most of us parents looked like they were ready for a rainy day at the beach. Except for one blonde mom who showed up in her pink sweats with a matching pink baseball cap and Starbucks cup in her hand. I'll call her Barbie...
We got our packets, and then headed to the classroom (there were 8 classrooms going...). I had been expecting 4 girls in my group, and instead had 8 kids. Nice kids, but still, I was to carry 8 lunches in my backpack? They didn't fit. So one of the girls brought her backpack too, but since they weren't supposed to carry anything else, I had to carry her backpack as well. I felt like a pack horse.
And the rain never let up. It poured. We were just soaking wet. The kids were to do two investigations with a meter square, laying it down somewhere and drawing exactly what they saw in their metered off section. They were to do this twice. It was raining so hard, and their papers got wet...It just wasn't real pleasant. My group of kids were nice, and many seemed to not get to the beach often...This was old hat stuff for Emily and I!
Finally we at our lunches standing under some trees for shelter, but still got dripped on constantly. Finally again, we got the message that we were leaving early. I was fine with that, although my group didn't really get time to see what the divers were bringing up. I wonder how Barbie survived the rain...Probably beautifully!
On the ride back I visited with Emily's science teacher. I really don't think Emily would have missed me if I wasn't there! It's the first time I have seen her just really focused on friends and not really caring if I was there or not...I was commenting about that to her teacher, how she used to be so shy. Her teacher said she was shy at the beginning of the year, but that she really felt that since being in the play that she's become more confident and outgoing.
And that is the way it should be, right? Our kids becoming confident and independant. Needing us less.
*sniff*
Of course, the reason I'm home today is that I used a personal day so that I could help chaperone a field trip with my older daughter's 6th grade class. It was a minus tide today, and they were going to the beach to study marine life. And remember, I made a promise to myself to chaperone all the field trips I could. I also looked forward to a day in June at the beach.
Except for when I woke up this morning, it was pouring down rain. I optimistically listened to the weather forecast, which predicted the rain to let up in the afternoon (as of right now, it has let up...). Still, I dressed for the rain and cold in a turtle neck shirt, jeans, my hiking boots, and heavy rain coat. It was like 6th grade camp in the rain all over again.
I showed up at the middle school at the scheduled time, and all the chaperones were herded into the cafeteria for instructions. Most of us parents looked like they were ready for a rainy day at the beach. Except for one blonde mom who showed up in her pink sweats with a matching pink baseball cap and Starbucks cup in her hand. I'll call her Barbie...
We got our packets, and then headed to the classroom (there were 8 classrooms going...). I had been expecting 4 girls in my group, and instead had 8 kids. Nice kids, but still, I was to carry 8 lunches in my backpack? They didn't fit. So one of the girls brought her backpack too, but since they weren't supposed to carry anything else, I had to carry her backpack as well. I felt like a pack horse.
And the rain never let up. It poured. We were just soaking wet. The kids were to do two investigations with a meter square, laying it down somewhere and drawing exactly what they saw in their metered off section. They were to do this twice. It was raining so hard, and their papers got wet...It just wasn't real pleasant. My group of kids were nice, and many seemed to not get to the beach often...This was old hat stuff for Emily and I!
Finally we at our lunches standing under some trees for shelter, but still got dripped on constantly. Finally again, we got the message that we were leaving early. I was fine with that, although my group didn't really get time to see what the divers were bringing up. I wonder how Barbie survived the rain...Probably beautifully!
On the ride back I visited with Emily's science teacher. I really don't think Emily would have missed me if I wasn't there! It's the first time I have seen her just really focused on friends and not really caring if I was there or not...I was commenting about that to her teacher, how she used to be so shy. Her teacher said she was shy at the beginning of the year, but that she really felt that since being in the play that she's become more confident and outgoing.
And that is the way it should be, right? Our kids becoming confident and independant. Needing us less.
*sniff*
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