Last Friday I wasn't feeling well. My throat hurt. But it was the last Friday before winter break, and we had a holiday breakfast at school that morning, so I went. As the day wore on, my stomach began to hurt.
After the kids came back in from lunch recess, I wondered if I was going to make it through the rest of the day without puking. I made it through the 35 minutes until it was time to go to the library.
While at the library, I just sat at a table. Our Instructional Coach came out of her office, and asked me if I was ok. I said I felt pretty bad. Thinking about our afternoon, I realized that at 2:08 my kids went to music for 45 minutes, and then most of the kids would be helping to set up for the band and orchestra concert at 3 pm. Really, after 2:08, there wasn't much to do. I only needed class coverage for the dismissal time at the end of the day.
So I asked our coach what she was doing at 3:30. She said she could cover my class so that I could just go home at 2:08. Thank goodness.
When library was over, we returned to class. The first thing I did was to tell my students that I just felt really sick to my stomach, and that once they went to music, I was going to go home.
Leo then said, with anguish in his voice, "But who will take care of us?"
Isn't that sweet? "...take care of us..." was the way he put it. Not who will be our sub, or who will excuse us to go home, or who will teach us...But who will take care of us. That shows their idea of me-not just a teacher. I take care of them. Pretty tall order, I'd say. I'll do my best.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
The Real Reason for the Season
I have an advent "tree" that I put out every year. It is a wooden, free-standing tree on a base with 24 drawers. I put a little decoration into each drawer. Each day, then, the kids get to open a numbered drawer and take out a decoration, and hang it on the tree. Behind drawer 24 is the wooden star for the top. That means Santa comes that night when the star goes up! I got this tree when Emily was 2 yrs old, so that means I've used it every year now for 12 years.
The decorations are all cute and all different. Of course, one is baby Jesus, and babies are cute, so it's fun for the kids to get him. Not being very religious, though, makes it less of a big deal. I usually say something tongue in cheek about the "reason for the season."
So today, Emily got the Santa decoration. I happen to like that cute little Santa, and laughed, saying that Santa was the "real" reason for the season.
Stella then said, "No-the reason for the season is that the earth is tilted on it's axis..."
She's got a point. No argument there.
The decorations are all cute and all different. Of course, one is baby Jesus, and babies are cute, so it's fun for the kids to get him. Not being very religious, though, makes it less of a big deal. I usually say something tongue in cheek about the "reason for the season."
So today, Emily got the Santa decoration. I happen to like that cute little Santa, and laughed, saying that Santa was the "real" reason for the season.
Stella then said, "No-the reason for the season is that the earth is tilted on it's axis..."
She's got a point. No argument there.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Love That Technology!
My fifth graders are currently in the midst of a fairly large unit on explorers. They each have been assigned an explorer to research, and have a variety of activities to complete. The last activity they had to do was to create a "Help Wanted" poster that their explorer might have put up to get men to go on his expedition. It was to be a persuasive poster.
The other day I decided it was time to explain about the poster. I talked about the purpose of this poster, and together we brainstormed information that should go on the poster. I then told the students that they were to complete a rough draft sketch of their poster on notebook paper before doing the real poster on the nicer, larger paper I had available.
The kids got right to work. About five minutes later I had some kids showing me their poorly-designed rough sketch. They obviously didn't know what a "Help Wanted" poster should look like, I thought. They need to see some examples, I thought further. So I stopped the class.
"I think you all need to see some examples of help wanted posters," I told them. I turned on the document camera so that I could show some examples up large on the Smart Board for all to see. Then I went to Google and typed in "Help Wanted Posters." A list of links came up.
I clicked on the first link, which was for an all-posters websight. It brought me to a page with thumbnail examples of a variety of posters. I was focused; looking for the words "Help Wanted" at the top of thumbnails. Suddenly, I heard a commotion in the room, and some whispering.
I focused in, then, on one of the thumbnail posters. I had noticed it, and thought it was a poster showing stick figures in wrestling moves. But it wasn't wrestling moves. It was sex positions. It was like the Kama Sutra for stick figures.
Now, in our district, we have a filter system. I cannot even show Utube videos. And many times when I've been searchiing for websites, I get a screen that forbids me from opening a particular site. But it didn't catch this one. And unfortunately, a few of the kids did catch it. And knew what it was about (my sweet little kids?).
I closed out the windows as fast as I could, and then just sat there stunned. It was time to excuse them for music, and not knowing what else to do, I excused them. I know that not everyone saw-most kids did not, like me, focus in on it. But a few did. I saw Leo go over to some other boys, whispering, "Did you see that?"
But I did go to both our Curriculum Coach and to our Principal to let them know what had happened, just in case. The verdict was: we have a good filter system but it doesn't catch everything. My principal said if the kids came back from music still talking about it, that I should just explain what happened. Luckily, it seemed like they weren't talking about it anymore.
The next day I was talking with one of the teachers, and told him what had happened. He showed me how I can push a button on my remote that will freeze whatever is on the screen, and can then continue to search for posters (or whatever) without it showing on the screen until I want it to.
But it would have been just my luck to have "frozen" the screen right when the Kama Sutra stick figures were there.
The other day I decided it was time to explain about the poster. I talked about the purpose of this poster, and together we brainstormed information that should go on the poster. I then told the students that they were to complete a rough draft sketch of their poster on notebook paper before doing the real poster on the nicer, larger paper I had available.
The kids got right to work. About five minutes later I had some kids showing me their poorly-designed rough sketch. They obviously didn't know what a "Help Wanted" poster should look like, I thought. They need to see some examples, I thought further. So I stopped the class.
"I think you all need to see some examples of help wanted posters," I told them. I turned on the document camera so that I could show some examples up large on the Smart Board for all to see. Then I went to Google and typed in "Help Wanted Posters." A list of links came up.
I clicked on the first link, which was for an all-posters websight. It brought me to a page with thumbnail examples of a variety of posters. I was focused; looking for the words "Help Wanted" at the top of thumbnails. Suddenly, I heard a commotion in the room, and some whispering.
I focused in, then, on one of the thumbnail posters. I had noticed it, and thought it was a poster showing stick figures in wrestling moves. But it wasn't wrestling moves. It was sex positions. It was like the Kama Sutra for stick figures.
Now, in our district, we have a filter system. I cannot even show Utube videos. And many times when I've been searchiing for websites, I get a screen that forbids me from opening a particular site. But it didn't catch this one. And unfortunately, a few of the kids did catch it. And knew what it was about (my sweet little kids?).
I closed out the windows as fast as I could, and then just sat there stunned. It was time to excuse them for music, and not knowing what else to do, I excused them. I know that not everyone saw-most kids did not, like me, focus in on it. But a few did. I saw Leo go over to some other boys, whispering, "Did you see that?"
But I did go to both our Curriculum Coach and to our Principal to let them know what had happened, just in case. The verdict was: we have a good filter system but it doesn't catch everything. My principal said if the kids came back from music still talking about it, that I should just explain what happened. Luckily, it seemed like they weren't talking about it anymore.
The next day I was talking with one of the teachers, and told him what had happened. He showed me how I can push a button on my remote that will freeze whatever is on the screen, and can then continue to search for posters (or whatever) without it showing on the screen until I want it to.
But it would have been just my luck to have "frozen" the screen right when the Kama Sutra stick figures were there.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Grammar Problem
I received this email from the National Education Association, and one of the very first sentences bothered me-not that anyone seems to actually read my blog and could agree or disagree with me, but there you have it. It bothers me, and I must put it in writing.
Here's the paragraph: "As we reported last week, Congress is considering a second economic recovery package, focused on job creation. A bill could be taken up in the House of Representatives as early as next week. Critical to such a package is the inclusion of an Education Jobs Fund to help save and create jobs that help students achieve, run our schools, and strengthen the middle class."
Read that last sentence in that paragraph. The way that sentence is written, it sounds as if this bill will help students "achieve, run our schools, and strengthem the middle class."
Wow. Can students really do all that? And do I want them to? Do I want to work in a school run by students? Are they really going to be capable of strengthening the middle class?
See what I mean? I think someone should have proofread more carefully.
Here's the paragraph: "As we reported last week, Congress is considering a second economic recovery package, focused on job creation. A bill could be taken up in the House of Representatives as early as next week. Critical to such a package is the inclusion of an Education Jobs Fund to help save and create jobs that help students achieve, run our schools, and strengthen the middle class."
Read that last sentence in that paragraph. The way that sentence is written, it sounds as if this bill will help students "achieve, run our schools, and strengthem the middle class."
Wow. Can students really do all that? And do I want them to? Do I want to work in a school run by students? Are they really going to be capable of strengthening the middle class?
See what I mean? I think someone should have proofread more carefully.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Proud Momma
The other day my older daughter came home, and told me that she had taken a survey in her honor's social studies class. It was a political survey, and her answers scored points that placed her into a political party that most fit her ideals. I'm so very proud to say that my daughter is a Liberal Democrat!
Later, both of my girls were watching "Fiddler on the Roof" On Demand. The part came where the one daughter marries the Catholic, and her father claims she is dead to him. This bothered my girls, and they wondered aloud if we'd ever do that if they were to marry out of our faith. My husband said, "It would be more like if you married into a faith..."
Haha. Then my daughters thought. And they said, "No, it would be more like if we married a Republican!"
You got that right, girls! But they'd never do that.
Later, both of my girls were watching "Fiddler on the Roof" On Demand. The part came where the one daughter marries the Catholic, and her father claims she is dead to him. This bothered my girls, and they wondered aloud if we'd ever do that if they were to marry out of our faith. My husband said, "It would be more like if you married into a faith..."
Haha. Then my daughters thought. And they said, "No, it would be more like if we married a Republican!"
You got that right, girls! But they'd never do that.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Ready, Set, GO!
I was reminded of this story the other day while I was struggling to score my fifth graders' writing assessments. One girl wrote a very good story-she's a good little writer! Her story reminded me of something that happened to me once, and I shared it yesterday with my class. It's one of my favorite stories.
I was 15 and learning to drive. I don't remember Dad taking me out to drive too frequently; most of my driving happened during Driver's Ed. Dad made me nervous, and he wasn't the most patient of instructors when it came to his daughters and his car.
But on this day, he decided to let me drive to the town of Snohomish. To get there from our house, you crossed 132nd, and drove down a windy, steep hill into the Snohomish Flats. You then drove through the Flats to a stop light. Now, it is a major intersection, but in those days, it was a stop for cars going in my direction, but not a stop for the cars going on the highway. Therefore, I had to stop and watch for the break in traffic to cross the highway and continue on into Snohimish. The traffic on the highway traveled at high speeds, too, so it really was a dangerous spot.
We got to the light and stopped. I was watching traffic to my left and right, waiting for a break. So was Dad. In fact, as he saw a break in the traffic coming up, he said, "Ok. Get ready...get set...GO!"
I stomped on the gas pedal. My tires squealed and spun as I sped out of there. Dad clung to the seat. I'm sure he uttered some curse words as he yelled at me, "What do you think you're doing?"
I just smiled sweetly. "Dad," I said. "When you said ready, set, go, I assumed it was a race, and I wanted to win!"
I don't recall getting into trouble. I don't believe I did. Maybe at 15 I was able to score a point. But I never liked driving anywhere with Dad in the car.
I was 15 and learning to drive. I don't remember Dad taking me out to drive too frequently; most of my driving happened during Driver's Ed. Dad made me nervous, and he wasn't the most patient of instructors when it came to his daughters and his car.
But on this day, he decided to let me drive to the town of Snohomish. To get there from our house, you crossed 132nd, and drove down a windy, steep hill into the Snohomish Flats. You then drove through the Flats to a stop light. Now, it is a major intersection, but in those days, it was a stop for cars going in my direction, but not a stop for the cars going on the highway. Therefore, I had to stop and watch for the break in traffic to cross the highway and continue on into Snohimish. The traffic on the highway traveled at high speeds, too, so it really was a dangerous spot.
We got to the light and stopped. I was watching traffic to my left and right, waiting for a break. So was Dad. In fact, as he saw a break in the traffic coming up, he said, "Ok. Get ready...get set...GO!"
I stomped on the gas pedal. My tires squealed and spun as I sped out of there. Dad clung to the seat. I'm sure he uttered some curse words as he yelled at me, "What do you think you're doing?"
I just smiled sweetly. "Dad," I said. "When you said ready, set, go, I assumed it was a race, and I wanted to win!"
I don't recall getting into trouble. I don't believe I did. Maybe at 15 I was able to score a point. But I never liked driving anywhere with Dad in the car.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Egg On My Face (And The Floor)
I wrote this story the other day in my class when I was having my students write about something that happened to them that they were reminded of when they thought of a particular place. I used my trip I took to Japan and Okinawa as an example, because many things happened on that trip. This is one of them:
"My flight had just arrived to Okinawa, and I got off the plane. The airplane I had ridden in to Japan was the largest plane I had ever been in-I remember wondering if it would even be able to get off the ground! Luckily it did, and after a 15 hour flight, I arrived in Okinawa. I had sat for so long that my feet felt like lead, but they still worked, so I got off the plane and went through customs. When I left customs, Colonel Graham, a long-time friend of my dad’s, was waiting for me on the other side of the gate. He took my picture as I came through the gate so that I could always remember my first few steps onto Japanese soil. I felt like a celebrity!
Our first task was to go to eat dinner somewhere. After a 15 hour flight, I was starved! I had wondered what kind of food was in store for me. We went to a small, local restaurant for dinner. Even though I certainly couldn’t read the menu with the Japanese characters, the menu had a picture of each dish offered, so I ordered what looked delicious to me. That happened to be a bowl of sukiyaki, which is a dish with meat and vegetables in a broth served in a bowl. It looked wonderful, and my stomach growled as my mouth watered just thinking about it.
After a bit of waiting, my food arrived. The waitress set my food down in front of me. Interestingly enough, there was this complete egg on the plate next to my bowl of sukiyaki. I asked Colonel Graham why an egg came with my dinner. He explained to me that it was the traditional Okinawan way to eat your food. The idea was to crack the raw egg, and let it sit on top of your hot food. The heat from the food would cook the egg, and then you could mix the cooked egg into your meal. He sort of discouraged me from trying it, as you can get sick from a raw egg. But, this trip was all about new experiences for me, so I decided to try the raw egg.
I picked up the egg, and lightly tapped it against my bowl. Nothing happened. I took the egg, and tapped it against my bowl again. Still, nothing happened. I tapped it a bit harder against the bowl. It still would not break. The chickens in Okinawa lay strong eggs, I thought.
This time I took the egg and hit it really hard against the edge of my sukiyaki bowl. I was not shy this time, or timid. I hit it hard. I wanted that thing to crack so that I could enjoy my meal. I was so hungry, and this egg was making me wait even longer to eat my meal that smelled so heavenly in front of me.
This time I was successful. The egg did break. But it’s funny about eggs-you can’t really control where they go. The shell broke, and the slimy egg slid out and ran out of the egg, and down the outside of the bowl. It continued to slide, letting gravity pull it downward. It was almost alive with the goal of getting away from my food. It slid down the side of the bowl and onto the table top. Still it continued to travel downward. It slid to the edge of the table, and down it went. Right onto the floor in a slimy, glumpy, shimmering mess.
I sat there in a stunned silence. Then I became so embarrassed as I realized what had happened. Colonel Graham began to laugh and laugh, which really made me feel even more embarrassed! I did wish I could just slide down and stay under that table, just like my egg. But I couldn’t. I realized just then that no one else in the whole restaurant was looking at me. Even the waitress did not rush over to clean up the mess, like they would in America. It dawned on me that this was a culture that doesn’t want anyone to be embarrassed. This was a culture that believed in showing respect to others. If the waitress had rushed over to clean up my egg, I would have had to apologize for my clumsiness, and my embarrassment would have increased. But since no one looked at me, I could almost pretend it didn’t happen."
This story is only lacking in a concluding sentence. Let's just say that when we got back to Col. Graham's house, and we related the story to his wife, who translated it to her Japanese mother, the idea of not laughing at someone to cause them embarrassment completely flew out the window. Yoshiko's mom laughed the hardest! So much for saving face!
"My flight had just arrived to Okinawa, and I got off the plane. The airplane I had ridden in to Japan was the largest plane I had ever been in-I remember wondering if it would even be able to get off the ground! Luckily it did, and after a 15 hour flight, I arrived in Okinawa. I had sat for so long that my feet felt like lead, but they still worked, so I got off the plane and went through customs. When I left customs, Colonel Graham, a long-time friend of my dad’s, was waiting for me on the other side of the gate. He took my picture as I came through the gate so that I could always remember my first few steps onto Japanese soil. I felt like a celebrity!
Our first task was to go to eat dinner somewhere. After a 15 hour flight, I was starved! I had wondered what kind of food was in store for me. We went to a small, local restaurant for dinner. Even though I certainly couldn’t read the menu with the Japanese characters, the menu had a picture of each dish offered, so I ordered what looked delicious to me. That happened to be a bowl of sukiyaki, which is a dish with meat and vegetables in a broth served in a bowl. It looked wonderful, and my stomach growled as my mouth watered just thinking about it.
After a bit of waiting, my food arrived. The waitress set my food down in front of me. Interestingly enough, there was this complete egg on the plate next to my bowl of sukiyaki. I asked Colonel Graham why an egg came with my dinner. He explained to me that it was the traditional Okinawan way to eat your food. The idea was to crack the raw egg, and let it sit on top of your hot food. The heat from the food would cook the egg, and then you could mix the cooked egg into your meal. He sort of discouraged me from trying it, as you can get sick from a raw egg. But, this trip was all about new experiences for me, so I decided to try the raw egg.
I picked up the egg, and lightly tapped it against my bowl. Nothing happened. I took the egg, and tapped it against my bowl again. Still, nothing happened. I tapped it a bit harder against the bowl. It still would not break. The chickens in Okinawa lay strong eggs, I thought.
This time I took the egg and hit it really hard against the edge of my sukiyaki bowl. I was not shy this time, or timid. I hit it hard. I wanted that thing to crack so that I could enjoy my meal. I was so hungry, and this egg was making me wait even longer to eat my meal that smelled so heavenly in front of me.
This time I was successful. The egg did break. But it’s funny about eggs-you can’t really control where they go. The shell broke, and the slimy egg slid out and ran out of the egg, and down the outside of the bowl. It continued to slide, letting gravity pull it downward. It was almost alive with the goal of getting away from my food. It slid down the side of the bowl and onto the table top. Still it continued to travel downward. It slid to the edge of the table, and down it went. Right onto the floor in a slimy, glumpy, shimmering mess.
I sat there in a stunned silence. Then I became so embarrassed as I realized what had happened. Colonel Graham began to laugh and laugh, which really made me feel even more embarrassed! I did wish I could just slide down and stay under that table, just like my egg. But I couldn’t. I realized just then that no one else in the whole restaurant was looking at me. Even the waitress did not rush over to clean up the mess, like they would in America. It dawned on me that this was a culture that doesn’t want anyone to be embarrassed. This was a culture that believed in showing respect to others. If the waitress had rushed over to clean up my egg, I would have had to apologize for my clumsiness, and my embarrassment would have increased. But since no one looked at me, I could almost pretend it didn’t happen."
This story is only lacking in a concluding sentence. Let's just say that when we got back to Col. Graham's house, and we related the story to his wife, who translated it to her Japanese mother, the idea of not laughing at someone to cause them embarrassment completely flew out the window. Yoshiko's mom laughed the hardest! So much for saving face!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
The Winning Entry
The local newspaper is having a contest. They want you to write your favorite Christmas memory, and the Grand Prize winner wins 4 tickets to see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular featuring the Rockettes, and they get a meet and greet session with the Rockettes. Then, five winning essays will each win four free tickets. I'm sure I'll win. This is my essay I wrote:
"I have many wonderful memories of Christmases past, from walking in the snowy woods in search of the perfect Christmas tree to baking cookies for Santa. But one memory stands out the most for me…
Our Christmas tradition when I was little was to spend Christmas Day at my aunt and uncle’s house in Seattle. My grandmother, who lived right next door, would also make the drive from Everett to Seattle with us. We’d all pile into the small, two-door car on Christmas Day. My sisters and my grandmother would sit in the back. My parents would sit in the front. And me? I’d sit on my mom’s lap. Apparently, we didn’t worry about seatbelts in the late 1960s…
On this particular Christmas, we piled into the car for our annual trek into Seattle. I had just gotten into the car and sat down on mom’s lap. That is when it happened.
Even though I was on mom’s lap, I still had to swing my legs into the car. I was in the process of doing this, when mom called out, “Ok, is everyone in?” Before I could answer, she slammed the car door shut. And it slammed shut right onto my big toe!
I am sure that I immediately cried out, and that she quickly opened the door, but the damage had been done. I am sure that my dad drove like a maniac to my aunt and uncle’s house in Seattle. My dad then took me to the Emergency Room at a nearby hospital. This was an embarrassing event for me as well, since I had to take off my tights in front of my dad, the doctor, and a cousin I didn’t really know who came along with us to show us the way to the hospital. This was humiliating for such a shy seven-year old, and was like rubbing salt into the wound.
However, the toe wasn’t broken. We went back to my aunt and uncle’s house. I remember just sitting that year and wearing slippers. That night, my toe hurt me too much to sleep. I got up and went out into the family room where my dad was watching an old movie on tv. I crawled into his lap and snuggled in. I felt better.
But this is not a happy memory. So why should it win? Because I know that my mom felt just terrible for having caused her baby such pain, and on Christmas of all days. A day that should be full of happy surprises for her children instead was a day of pain. And I know she has carried that guilt now for 40 years. If this story wins the contest, I will be sure to take her to see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular, because I believe this is the only way that she can finally let go of that guilt and be at peace.
And Christmas should be all about peace, don’t you think?"
The hardest part for me was keeping the essay to 500 words or less. My original one was almost 600 words. The one I entered is 496. I hope I win!
"I have many wonderful memories of Christmases past, from walking in the snowy woods in search of the perfect Christmas tree to baking cookies for Santa. But one memory stands out the most for me…
Our Christmas tradition when I was little was to spend Christmas Day at my aunt and uncle’s house in Seattle. My grandmother, who lived right next door, would also make the drive from Everett to Seattle with us. We’d all pile into the small, two-door car on Christmas Day. My sisters and my grandmother would sit in the back. My parents would sit in the front. And me? I’d sit on my mom’s lap. Apparently, we didn’t worry about seatbelts in the late 1960s…
On this particular Christmas, we piled into the car for our annual trek into Seattle. I had just gotten into the car and sat down on mom’s lap. That is when it happened.
Even though I was on mom’s lap, I still had to swing my legs into the car. I was in the process of doing this, when mom called out, “Ok, is everyone in?” Before I could answer, she slammed the car door shut. And it slammed shut right onto my big toe!
I am sure that I immediately cried out, and that she quickly opened the door, but the damage had been done. I am sure that my dad drove like a maniac to my aunt and uncle’s house in Seattle. My dad then took me to the Emergency Room at a nearby hospital. This was an embarrassing event for me as well, since I had to take off my tights in front of my dad, the doctor, and a cousin I didn’t really know who came along with us to show us the way to the hospital. This was humiliating for such a shy seven-year old, and was like rubbing salt into the wound.
However, the toe wasn’t broken. We went back to my aunt and uncle’s house. I remember just sitting that year and wearing slippers. That night, my toe hurt me too much to sleep. I got up and went out into the family room where my dad was watching an old movie on tv. I crawled into his lap and snuggled in. I felt better.
But this is not a happy memory. So why should it win? Because I know that my mom felt just terrible for having caused her baby such pain, and on Christmas of all days. A day that should be full of happy surprises for her children instead was a day of pain. And I know she has carried that guilt now for 40 years. If this story wins the contest, I will be sure to take her to see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular, because I believe this is the only way that she can finally let go of that guilt and be at peace.
And Christmas should be all about peace, don’t you think?"
The hardest part for me was keeping the essay to 500 words or less. My original one was almost 600 words. The one I entered is 496. I hope I win!
Saturday, October 24, 2009
A Success Story
Last Wednesday morning I was at school checking email, the first thing I usually do when I get into my classroom. As I was reading an email, I received another one. I clicked it open, and read the email. It was from the mom of one of my boys, and she was really angry with me. In fact, I don't think I've ever had a parent so mad at me, and it has happened from time to time over these last 20-plus years of teaching. It doesn't happen as much lately, though, as it used to when I was young and inexperienced.
Anyway, she was livid. Livid is a good word choice here. Here is the edited email:
"Hi I am Bobby’s mother.
I would really love to speak with you about Bobby and how you handle situations with a child that has a disability which is ADHD. I have several concerns, I am extremely upset with the fact that he comes home daily upset about what happens in the classroom as far as him being sent out and then getting a 1 in science because he was not in the class to participate I feel is ridiculous and to me as an educator I would really love to know what “education” you have when dealing with “non-cookie cutter children”. I will not have his self esteem damaged by a teacher who is not capable or patient enough to deal with these types of children. He does have an IEP which is being put in place currently so if need be I can handle this in a variety of ways which will include by passing you and (the school) and going straight to the school district, I have a great lawyers name as well. I have gone through this with my oldest son and (this school) so I am done playing games with people here!!!! I really hope you can provide me some answers as to how we are going to make sure Bobby has a good school year with out crying daily when he gets home because of his classroom situation."
Well, I sat there stunned. Where to begin, where to begin? I knew I should reply as soon as possible, but if this turned ugly, I also wanted my beloved principal to know of the situation. So I forwarded the email to her, along with the background of the situation that had occured the day before with Bobby during science: Students were in small groups of three working on a hands-on science activity where they were to build a "pendulum." At one point, for some reason, Bobby was back at the sink with a boy from another group, and they were happily punching each other many times in the arm. I separated them-one at a study carol in the class, and the other, Bobby, into the hall at a table. There aren't many places to send a kid to cool off. By the time both returned to the class, science was over. Too bad, they missed the fun activity. Punishment enough, I thought, and case closed.
But not closed, apparently...I waited for my principal's response, as I wanted to get a reply off to this mom as soon as possible. Then it was recess, so I wandered over to my principal's office, and peeked in. "Did you see the email from Bobby's mom?" I inquired.
"You mean the one where she's going to sue you?" my principal asked.
"That would be the one," I replied. My principal said that yes, she saw it, and would respond to it-I didn't have to. But, I told her I felt I should be the one to respond, as I was the one who had the information that the mom obviously didn't have about that science lesson. I also told my principal that I was certain I could get the mom's anger deflated enough to be productive. I would, I said, respond not only as a teacher, but as a parent. That always works, I've found.
So I did respond. I sent the email (cc'd to my principal). I thanked her for her email, and said I wanted to give her some details about the situation that she probably didn't hear from her son. I told her then about the arm punching. I explained the whole scenario. I explained further that his belief about getting a bad grade was the result of a speech I gave to the whole class about group participation being just as big of a part of their grade as any test. Bobby apparently realized his participation that day was not good.
I also said that Bobby is a very sensitive and kind boy, and I knew this was an unusual event so I didn't pursue it much further. I went on to say there were some behaviors that I wanted Bobby to work on, and since he responded so well to positives, I wanted to come up with some sort of chart where when he did those positive things, I'd give him a sticker or stamp. At then end of the week, he could take the chart home, and she could give him positive feedback too. I invited her to come in to meet with me to organize this.
Her reply came quickly, and I could tell immediately that the anger was gone, although she still questioned whether my expectations for him were "appropriate and reasonable." I emailed back that I had been at his IEP meeting (which was scheduled at a time she requested, then she didn't even show up) and I thought my three expectations were fine, but that I was happy to run the idea by the IP teacher as well.
Her third reply had no anger or distrust in it at all. She'd be so happy to meet me, she said. In fact, we set up a meeting time for after school the next day. I knew the meeting would go well. In fact, when she showed up, she was putty in my hands immediately. She herself is very sensitive, and began crying at first, but then pulled herself together. She apologized for the email she sent. And it was a productive meeting. I think she just wanted to see that I was a good person.
The next day, Friday, Bobby came to school with a sack full of stickers, paper, pencils, etc., that she had bought for me at her new favorite store: The Dollar Store. Before I could send her an email to thank her, this is the email she sent me:
"Did Bobby give you the stickers and the paper if you just wanted to throw them on the paper and call it good that can work. You can use those for other’s too and when you run out let me know and I will go get more for you or if you think of anything let me know and I will go pick it up, don’t buy anything I will buy it!!!! I am really glad to have met you and appreciate your time thank you for caring about my son!!! He seemed allot better about everything last night too so it was a good thing I came and we got to meet…….I thought you were going to have warts and a broom LOL just kidding you are a very great teacher and I have SO MUCH RESPECT for your role in my child’s life"
Now, that's what I call a Success Story!
Anyway, she was livid. Livid is a good word choice here. Here is the edited email:
"Hi I am Bobby’s mother.
I would really love to speak with you about Bobby and how you handle situations with a child that has a disability which is ADHD. I have several concerns, I am extremely upset with the fact that he comes home daily upset about what happens in the classroom as far as him being sent out and then getting a 1 in science because he was not in the class to participate I feel is ridiculous and to me as an educator I would really love to know what “education” you have when dealing with “non-cookie cutter children”. I will not have his self esteem damaged by a teacher who is not capable or patient enough to deal with these types of children. He does have an IEP which is being put in place currently so if need be I can handle this in a variety of ways which will include by passing you and (the school) and going straight to the school district, I have a great lawyers name as well. I have gone through this with my oldest son and (this school) so I am done playing games with people here!!!! I really hope you can provide me some answers as to how we are going to make sure Bobby has a good school year with out crying daily when he gets home because of his classroom situation."
Well, I sat there stunned. Where to begin, where to begin? I knew I should reply as soon as possible, but if this turned ugly, I also wanted my beloved principal to know of the situation. So I forwarded the email to her, along with the background of the situation that had occured the day before with Bobby during science: Students were in small groups of three working on a hands-on science activity where they were to build a "pendulum." At one point, for some reason, Bobby was back at the sink with a boy from another group, and they were happily punching each other many times in the arm. I separated them-one at a study carol in the class, and the other, Bobby, into the hall at a table. There aren't many places to send a kid to cool off. By the time both returned to the class, science was over. Too bad, they missed the fun activity. Punishment enough, I thought, and case closed.
But not closed, apparently...I waited for my principal's response, as I wanted to get a reply off to this mom as soon as possible. Then it was recess, so I wandered over to my principal's office, and peeked in. "Did you see the email from Bobby's mom?" I inquired.
"You mean the one where she's going to sue you?" my principal asked.
"That would be the one," I replied. My principal said that yes, she saw it, and would respond to it-I didn't have to. But, I told her I felt I should be the one to respond, as I was the one who had the information that the mom obviously didn't have about that science lesson. I also told my principal that I was certain I could get the mom's anger deflated enough to be productive. I would, I said, respond not only as a teacher, but as a parent. That always works, I've found.
So I did respond. I sent the email (cc'd to my principal). I thanked her for her email, and said I wanted to give her some details about the situation that she probably didn't hear from her son. I told her then about the arm punching. I explained the whole scenario. I explained further that his belief about getting a bad grade was the result of a speech I gave to the whole class about group participation being just as big of a part of their grade as any test. Bobby apparently realized his participation that day was not good.
I also said that Bobby is a very sensitive and kind boy, and I knew this was an unusual event so I didn't pursue it much further. I went on to say there were some behaviors that I wanted Bobby to work on, and since he responded so well to positives, I wanted to come up with some sort of chart where when he did those positive things, I'd give him a sticker or stamp. At then end of the week, he could take the chart home, and she could give him positive feedback too. I invited her to come in to meet with me to organize this.
Her reply came quickly, and I could tell immediately that the anger was gone, although she still questioned whether my expectations for him were "appropriate and reasonable." I emailed back that I had been at his IEP meeting (which was scheduled at a time she requested, then she didn't even show up) and I thought my three expectations were fine, but that I was happy to run the idea by the IP teacher as well.
Her third reply had no anger or distrust in it at all. She'd be so happy to meet me, she said. In fact, we set up a meeting time for after school the next day. I knew the meeting would go well. In fact, when she showed up, she was putty in my hands immediately. She herself is very sensitive, and began crying at first, but then pulled herself together. She apologized for the email she sent. And it was a productive meeting. I think she just wanted to see that I was a good person.
The next day, Friday, Bobby came to school with a sack full of stickers, paper, pencils, etc., that she had bought for me at her new favorite store: The Dollar Store. Before I could send her an email to thank her, this is the email she sent me:
"Did Bobby give you the stickers and the paper if you just wanted to throw them on the paper and call it good that can work. You can use those for other’s too and when you run out let me know and I will go get more for you or if you think of anything let me know and I will go pick it up, don’t buy anything I will buy it!!!! I am really glad to have met you and appreciate your time thank you for caring about my son!!! He seemed allot better about everything last night too so it was a good thing I came and we got to meet…….I thought you were going to have warts and a broom LOL just kidding you are a very great teacher and I have SO MUCH RESPECT for your role in my child’s life"
Now, that's what I call a Success Story!
Saturday, October 10, 2009
It All Makes Sense Now!
Yesterday our preschool teacher shared that she had sent a parent letter home the other day, and thought she should mention all about the "fire drill" we had that turned into a marriage proposal. This teacher said she got two emails back from parents, one just saying what a sweet story it was.
The other parent thanked the teacher for the explanation about the fire drill. She said her daughter had come home and told her that they had had a fire drill that day, and that the firemen came, and one fireman kissed a girl...
The other parent thanked the teacher for the explanation about the fire drill. She said her daughter had come home and told her that they had had a fire drill that day, and that the firemen came, and one fireman kissed a girl...
Friday, October 9, 2009
Grow Up!
And I do get to move three boys out of my class, and I get two girls. The move will happen next week Thursday. Two of the three boys I'm moving are ones I wanted to move. I wasn't allowed to give away the third one I wanted. I had to pick another. So I chose a student who is very quiet, but not a leader. I need any leader I can keep. I hate to see a quiet one go, though.
One of the boys who I will be moving is of average smarts, but is so loud and blurts out constantly. I can't wait to get rid of him. My life will be easier.
Ms. 4/5 Teacher, who has been spending the last month with only 10 children for the first three hours of the day, has told me she's already looking for other work. I know she talked last year of quitting teaching. But she says she didn't quit just because of how this year was supposed to work for her, with only teaching half her class all morning long. I am not impressed at all by this attitude. Did she really think that she could go all year long with a schedule like this? And why did she think she was so deserving of this special treatment? This is public school.
Finally, I do feel sorry for any of her students. Her class will go through a major change next week, with her split being disbanded. Then half her class will be new. That's a hard thing; I did it four years ago. You start over again. So if she adds to that by quitting? Those poor kids. Plus my other teammate is slated to be leaving and moving out of state in December. My class will be the only stable one.
And Ms. 4/5 Teacher doesn't vote. She says she is a political atheist. I don't have any respect for someone who doesn't vote.
I can't wait for Thursday!
One of the boys who I will be moving is of average smarts, but is so loud and blurts out constantly. I can't wait to get rid of him. My life will be easier.
Ms. 4/5 Teacher, who has been spending the last month with only 10 children for the first three hours of the day, has told me she's already looking for other work. I know she talked last year of quitting teaching. But she says she didn't quit just because of how this year was supposed to work for her, with only teaching half her class all morning long. I am not impressed at all by this attitude. Did she really think that she could go all year long with a schedule like this? And why did she think she was so deserving of this special treatment? This is public school.
Finally, I do feel sorry for any of her students. Her class will go through a major change next week, with her split being disbanded. Then half her class will be new. That's a hard thing; I did it four years ago. You start over again. So if she adds to that by quitting? Those poor kids. Plus my other teammate is slated to be leaving and moving out of state in December. My class will be the only stable one.
And Ms. 4/5 Teacher doesn't vote. She says she is a political atheist. I don't have any respect for someone who doesn't vote.
I can't wait for Thursday!
Just Doing My Job
Yesterday I taught my 5th graders how to make a "factor tree." In their math book, they were supposed to be able to write the "factor sting" of a number-so they were to break a number down into it's factors until you had only prime numbers. But the way the book was set up, they were given a number, and then just expected to be able to write the string of prime factors. So all that work had to be done in their heads. I didn't think that they could do it in their heads; this isn't a strong math group. Plus, they needed practise getting numbers to their prime factorization first.
So I taught them how to make Factor Trees. And they loved it. I taught it to them as if it was the world's best invention! And they caught on so quickly.
I then showed them how once you get a number down to its prime factorization, you can write the prime numbers using exponents if applicable. For instance, if there ends up being three 2s, you can write that as 2 to the third power. So we worked on that for awhile.
At then end of our math time, when I had given the students their assignment, Adrian said to me, "I just feel so much smarter now!"
So I taught them how to make Factor Trees. And they loved it. I taught it to them as if it was the world's best invention! And they caught on so quickly.
I then showed them how once you get a number down to its prime factorization, you can write the prime numbers using exponents if applicable. For instance, if there ends up being three 2s, you can write that as 2 to the third power. So we worked on that for awhile.
At then end of our math time, when I had given the students their assignment, Adrian said to me, "I just feel so much smarter now!"
Thursday, October 8, 2009
From Fire Drill Bells To Wedding Bells
This morning, when I went to pick up my kids first thing, one of my boys was talking to one of the recess teachers, and she was writing on a Behavior Slip. I sighed, and got my class. As the one student entered, he hands me the slip. I noted that three other boys in my class had been verbally harrassing him, calling him "fat" and "terrorist." I asked him what the recess teacher did about it. He said that she told him to give me the note. Great.
So when recess came, I kept in the three boys for a talking. Now, I really disapprove of them calling the other middle-eastern student "terrorist." And all three boys in question were of different races that too could be made fun of. So I talked very seriously to them. I knew it wasn't a one-way street; that the other boy had played a part, too. But he was the only one who reported it. So the three boys were the ones caught.
Anyway, I was just finishing up my lecture, and I was preparing to give a wrap up, when the fire drill bell went off. I was surprised, because we have never had a fire drill during recess. I figured either someone pulled the alarm, or they wanted to see how the kids reacted when at an unstructured moment. So I told the three boys to hurry on out and get in line.
Once outside on the field in our designated spot, I began to take roll. I heard the siren of a fire engine, so I knew this was no drill. After all of my students were accounted for, I held up my green "OK" sign.
Soon, about 5 or 6 firemen come from out of the building area, and walk toward us at the field. One is carrying a large cardboard box and shouts out, "Ms. Teacher in ELL? We found this package in your room right next to the heater."
She sheepishly came forward to the firemen. The one holding the box pulls out a dozen red roses. Another fireman goes up to her, falls onto one knee, and pulls something out of his pocket.
A huge "Aw!" arose from the crowd, both kids and adults alike, as we realized that it was a proposal taking place, and we were witnesses to it all! Then we all just burst into applause as Ms. Teacher and Mr. Fireman kissed and hugged in front of the whole school.
What a way to start the day! We all headed back into class, and we all had big smiles on our faces!
What can you do after a unique, shared experience like that? Why, write about it, of course! We began to plan it right away: it's a fabulous story with a beginning, middle, and end. These kids will never see anything like that again! And when the stories are finished I will give them to Ms. Teacher and Mr. Fireman, and they can share them with their own children, and read them again on their 50th wedding anniversary.
I wish I had married a romantic.
So when recess came, I kept in the three boys for a talking. Now, I really disapprove of them calling the other middle-eastern student "terrorist." And all three boys in question were of different races that too could be made fun of. So I talked very seriously to them. I knew it wasn't a one-way street; that the other boy had played a part, too. But he was the only one who reported it. So the three boys were the ones caught.
Anyway, I was just finishing up my lecture, and I was preparing to give a wrap up, when the fire drill bell went off. I was surprised, because we have never had a fire drill during recess. I figured either someone pulled the alarm, or they wanted to see how the kids reacted when at an unstructured moment. So I told the three boys to hurry on out and get in line.
Once outside on the field in our designated spot, I began to take roll. I heard the siren of a fire engine, so I knew this was no drill. After all of my students were accounted for, I held up my green "OK" sign.
Soon, about 5 or 6 firemen come from out of the building area, and walk toward us at the field. One is carrying a large cardboard box and shouts out, "Ms. Teacher in ELL? We found this package in your room right next to the heater."
She sheepishly came forward to the firemen. The one holding the box pulls out a dozen red roses. Another fireman goes up to her, falls onto one knee, and pulls something out of his pocket.
A huge "Aw!" arose from the crowd, both kids and adults alike, as we realized that it was a proposal taking place, and we were witnesses to it all! Then we all just burst into applause as Ms. Teacher and Mr. Fireman kissed and hugged in front of the whole school.
What a way to start the day! We all headed back into class, and we all had big smiles on our faces!
What can you do after a unique, shared experience like that? Why, write about it, of course! We began to plan it right away: it's a fabulous story with a beginning, middle, and end. These kids will never see anything like that again! And when the stories are finished I will give them to Ms. Teacher and Mr. Fireman, and they can share them with their own children, and read them again on their 50th wedding anniversary.
I wish I had married a romantic.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Reality Bites
Last year I couldn't stand my class. I was so excited when the year was over, and so excited for a new year to start. I wasn't going to be teaching a split this year, which was huge. Plus, I was teaching 5th grade this year, not sixth, so no snotty girls. Well, the reality of my class hit quick.
My class is overloaded with boys, and many with real behavior problems. I'm just so worn out from dealing with them. Today an argument broke out between two of my boys in class...I was speechless, and I didn't know what to do. I just am struggling with the behavior. On the plus side, our principal is finally disbanding the two split classes, and combining the two fifth grade groups to make up our third straight 5th. How this benefits me is that she'll reconfigure some of the kids, and make sure that the three classes are have the same distribution of girls and boys, even though this class as a whole is heavily boys. But, this will give me two more girls, and I get to get rid of three boys.
One will be one of the students who disrupted class with his petty argument today. He's a smart boy, but acts like a prince. He has blatently argued with me in front of the class before.
Another boy I'm getting rid of is one who was kicked out of our school in SECOND GRADE! He then went to a neighboring district, where he was kicked out last year, apparently. Now he's back, but I already have a real behavior problem boy (who is nicer, however...). One's enough. I asked my principal yesterday, "Am I the only 5th grade teacher who has boys with such bad behavior problems that I have to keep anecdotal notes on?" Apparently I am.
The third boy I'm getting rid of is of average smarts, but is noisy and blurts out constantly, so he's gone. If all goes in my favor, that is.
I hope this will be enough of a change that it will positively affect the climate of my class. I hope the girls I get are not snots.
I'm not happy with my chosen profession right now. Ironically, my husband says, "Then do something else. Why be miserable?" Sure, that's what he did when he decided to become a teacher, which in my view is the root of why I ended up leaving my good district for this poor one. I blame him. And now he makes pennies. I'm the main wage-earner, and he talks about me just throwing in the towel and doing something else? I never realized how irresponsible he was.
My class is overloaded with boys, and many with real behavior problems. I'm just so worn out from dealing with them. Today an argument broke out between two of my boys in class...I was speechless, and I didn't know what to do. I just am struggling with the behavior. On the plus side, our principal is finally disbanding the two split classes, and combining the two fifth grade groups to make up our third straight 5th. How this benefits me is that she'll reconfigure some of the kids, and make sure that the three classes are have the same distribution of girls and boys, even though this class as a whole is heavily boys. But, this will give me two more girls, and I get to get rid of three boys.
One will be one of the students who disrupted class with his petty argument today. He's a smart boy, but acts like a prince. He has blatently argued with me in front of the class before.
Another boy I'm getting rid of is one who was kicked out of our school in SECOND GRADE! He then went to a neighboring district, where he was kicked out last year, apparently. Now he's back, but I already have a real behavior problem boy (who is nicer, however...). One's enough. I asked my principal yesterday, "Am I the only 5th grade teacher who has boys with such bad behavior problems that I have to keep anecdotal notes on?" Apparently I am.
The third boy I'm getting rid of is of average smarts, but is noisy and blurts out constantly, so he's gone. If all goes in my favor, that is.
I hope this will be enough of a change that it will positively affect the climate of my class. I hope the girls I get are not snots.
I'm not happy with my chosen profession right now. Ironically, my husband says, "Then do something else. Why be miserable?" Sure, that's what he did when he decided to become a teacher, which in my view is the root of why I ended up leaving my good district for this poor one. I blame him. And now he makes pennies. I'm the main wage-earner, and he talks about me just throwing in the towel and doing something else? I never realized how irresponsible he was.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Your Day Will Come...
Today I had just excused my last kid for the day, and was in the hall stapling up some artwork. I could hear Mrs. 4/5 Teacher saying goodby to one of her students, in a chortling sort of tone. Her student left, and Mrs. 4/5 Teacher sees me in the hall. She walks towards me, and says, "I have a real nice class!"
I looked at her and said, "Well, I have a real noisy class." I went into my room and closed my door.
If it works out for me, she'll soon be feeling a little less happy at the end of the day...Just like all of us!
I looked at her and said, "Well, I have a real noisy class." I went into my room and closed my door.
If it works out for me, she'll soon be feeling a little less happy at the end of the day...Just like all of us!
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Dear Teacher...
These are excerpts from letters written to me by some of my students on the first day of school:
"If I had a $100.00, I would save up enough to by a horse, even though I have one (Angel isn't as young as she used to be...)"
"When I grow up I want to be a model and a judge..."
"I'm hoping to study a lot about music. I want to be a musician. I don't have to tell you why..."
"I like you Teacher. You are a nice Teacher. Teacher, what do you do for a living?"
"When I am an adult my career will be in law. I love to read so I think that I would enjoy studying law and being a lawyer. I also want to do hair if I have time."
"If I had a $100.00, I would save up enough to by a horse, even though I have one (Angel isn't as young as she used to be...)"
"When I grow up I want to be a model and a judge..."
"I'm hoping to study a lot about music. I want to be a musician. I don't have to tell you why..."
"I like you Teacher. You are a nice Teacher. Teacher, what do you do for a living?"
"When I am an adult my career will be in law. I love to read so I think that I would enjoy studying law and being a lawyer. I also want to do hair if I have time."
Friday, September 25, 2009
What's Your Excuse?
This is an actual comment written on the Recess Slip of two of my boys today who came in late from lunch recess:
"Both came to nurses office conmplaining they were injured in the privates. From what I'm getting from both is there are witnesses-happened while in line."
"Both came to nurses office conmplaining they were injured in the privates. From what I'm getting from both is there are witnesses-happened while in line."
A Friend Is A Stranger You Haven't Met
My class is very boy-heavy. I assumed that the whole 5th grade was this way. There is one other 5th grade class, and two split classes: a 4/5 and a 5/6. There is a .5 teacher who pulls the 5th graders out of the split classes for the morning and teaches them math and science. One day I found out that when she pulls out those 5th graders from the two splits, she has ONE MORE GIRL than boys.
How can this be when I have 19 boys and only 8 girls? I checked with the other 5th grade class. She had 17 boys and 9 girls, slightly better than my ratio. So that meant that in the two split classes, they had an even boy/girl ratio. I began to actively pursue this inequitable distribution of boys and girls. I brought it up continually to my principal over the next couple of days. Finally, she asks to see all of us 5th grade teachers.
We have a meeting, and this issue is brought up. Turns out that the 5/6 split class has five 5th grade boys and six 5th grade girls. Pretty even. Remember, my class is about 30% girls, 70% boys. Now the real inequity was in the 4/5 split. Her class in general is girl-heavy. But for her 5th grade students? Eight girls and six boys! There is the problem. She had as many 5th grade girls for half her class as I have in my class of 27. So my principal asks us to brainstorm solutions to this. Of course, they all just sit there. No one wants to speak up or make any changes. Particularly the 4/5 teacher, who's class is nicely girl-heavy, and she spends the first two hours of her nice day with her 10 (yes, that's right: 10) nice fourth graders. That's a better ratio than you'd get in a private school!
So I suggest some movement of kids to make the ratio of boys to girls more fair. The 4/5 teacher just thought this was a bad idea because, you know, the kids have already bonded to their teacher, and this would be so hard on them. Plus it would be hard on the teacher. But she did offer to take a couple of my boys, as long as they were boys who could "handle the split." Do you know what that means? Good boys only wanted here!
I definitely am not giving up any of my "good" boys-I need them all when my class is the highest in number with the worst boy-girl ratio. And I have a handful of boys who need to be medicated, if they aren't all ready. Plus, let me tell you, if I was lucky enough to be able to spend the first two hours of my day with only ten little charges, when everyone else is dealing with a full-size class, I'd feel so guilty that I'd offer to take some problem kids. And they would be 5th grade boys. She wouldn't have them all morning-only in the afternoon.
I didn't say much at the meeting, other than that I expected to not get new kids for quite awhile. The 4/5 split only had 24 kids in the class. I said I expected the new 5th graders to go there until her number is brought up. Unless the new kid is a girl, and a good one at that.
I left the meeting, but continued to think about this whole thing. And I just was mad about it, and particularly the "offer" of help I had received from the 4/5 teacher. Plus, we only began school last Tuesday. I really don't think bonding is an issue yet. Heck, my class is so hard that I've barely bonded at all, unfortunately.
I sent an email to my beloved principal from home, saying just that. I told exactly what I was feeling, and how I felt Mrs. 4/5 Teacher certainly COULD take a couple of my problem boys, since she wouldn't even have them all morning, and the fact that her class is girl-heavy means a calmer atmosphere for them. They probably actually would do better. And we're not even talking about giving her my worst boy who has psychological problems (not my diagnosis-it's true).
She emailed back that I made some good points. I went to talk to her the next day, and we selected two boys that aren't easy boys to send to Mrs. 4/5 Teacher. I'm pretty happy with the ones we chose-they add to the chaotic atmosphere in my class. Again, it's not my very worst kid. If I could have only gotten rid of him, that would have been good. I think my principal is thinking we may be able to get him into a behavioral program, though, that's at a different school...That would be nice.
The only thing I had to check on before we decided definitely which two boys to send to Mrs. 4/5 Teacher's class was if either boy was the close buddy of one of my other boys whose mom is dying of cancer. This particular boy had been placed into my room specifically because his best friend was there. So my principal did not want to move either of those two boys. I just had to find out who his buddy was.
I picked up my kids from PE. As we walked back to the classroom, I walked beside Jose. "Jose," I said, "Who is your best pal in this class?"
He answered, "Oh, I guess the kid behind me...Or maybe Alex..."
Alex was the boy we couldn't move, then, and he wasn't one of the boys I had selected. So I was happy. I just think it's funny that Jose thought the "kid behind him" was perhaps one of his best buddies-even though he didn't yet know his name!
How can this be when I have 19 boys and only 8 girls? I checked with the other 5th grade class. She had 17 boys and 9 girls, slightly better than my ratio. So that meant that in the two split classes, they had an even boy/girl ratio. I began to actively pursue this inequitable distribution of boys and girls. I brought it up continually to my principal over the next couple of days. Finally, she asks to see all of us 5th grade teachers.
We have a meeting, and this issue is brought up. Turns out that the 5/6 split class has five 5th grade boys and six 5th grade girls. Pretty even. Remember, my class is about 30% girls, 70% boys. Now the real inequity was in the 4/5 split. Her class in general is girl-heavy. But for her 5th grade students? Eight girls and six boys! There is the problem. She had as many 5th grade girls for half her class as I have in my class of 27. So my principal asks us to brainstorm solutions to this. Of course, they all just sit there. No one wants to speak up or make any changes. Particularly the 4/5 teacher, who's class is nicely girl-heavy, and she spends the first two hours of her nice day with her 10 (yes, that's right: 10) nice fourth graders. That's a better ratio than you'd get in a private school!
So I suggest some movement of kids to make the ratio of boys to girls more fair. The 4/5 teacher just thought this was a bad idea because, you know, the kids have already bonded to their teacher, and this would be so hard on them. Plus it would be hard on the teacher. But she did offer to take a couple of my boys, as long as they were boys who could "handle the split." Do you know what that means? Good boys only wanted here!
I definitely am not giving up any of my "good" boys-I need them all when my class is the highest in number with the worst boy-girl ratio. And I have a handful of boys who need to be medicated, if they aren't all ready. Plus, let me tell you, if I was lucky enough to be able to spend the first two hours of my day with only ten little charges, when everyone else is dealing with a full-size class, I'd feel so guilty that I'd offer to take some problem kids. And they would be 5th grade boys. She wouldn't have them all morning-only in the afternoon.
I didn't say much at the meeting, other than that I expected to not get new kids for quite awhile. The 4/5 split only had 24 kids in the class. I said I expected the new 5th graders to go there until her number is brought up. Unless the new kid is a girl, and a good one at that.
I left the meeting, but continued to think about this whole thing. And I just was mad about it, and particularly the "offer" of help I had received from the 4/5 teacher. Plus, we only began school last Tuesday. I really don't think bonding is an issue yet. Heck, my class is so hard that I've barely bonded at all, unfortunately.
I sent an email to my beloved principal from home, saying just that. I told exactly what I was feeling, and how I felt Mrs. 4/5 Teacher certainly COULD take a couple of my problem boys, since she wouldn't even have them all morning, and the fact that her class is girl-heavy means a calmer atmosphere for them. They probably actually would do better. And we're not even talking about giving her my worst boy who has psychological problems (not my diagnosis-it's true).
She emailed back that I made some good points. I went to talk to her the next day, and we selected two boys that aren't easy boys to send to Mrs. 4/5 Teacher. I'm pretty happy with the ones we chose-they add to the chaotic atmosphere in my class. Again, it's not my very worst kid. If I could have only gotten rid of him, that would have been good. I think my principal is thinking we may be able to get him into a behavioral program, though, that's at a different school...That would be nice.
The only thing I had to check on before we decided definitely which two boys to send to Mrs. 4/5 Teacher's class was if either boy was the close buddy of one of my other boys whose mom is dying of cancer. This particular boy had been placed into my room specifically because his best friend was there. So my principal did not want to move either of those two boys. I just had to find out who his buddy was.
I picked up my kids from PE. As we walked back to the classroom, I walked beside Jose. "Jose," I said, "Who is your best pal in this class?"
He answered, "Oh, I guess the kid behind me...Or maybe Alex..."
Alex was the boy we couldn't move, then, and he wasn't one of the boys I had selected. So I was happy. I just think it's funny that Jose thought the "kid behind him" was perhaps one of his best buddies-even though he didn't yet know his name!
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
First Day Moments
*First thing in the morning I had my students work on writing me a letter telling me about themselves. As they worked on this, I went around to each student to check on his or her name before I made their name tag. I have learned to do this; too many times I have put "Nicole" on the nametag, only to be told that she goes by "Nikki..." Waste of paper and effort.
So, as I walked around, Leonardo told me he goes by Leo. Katelyn told me she goes by Katie. Rebecka told me she goes by Becka. Then I get to Tyler. Not much you can do with his name, unless he goes by "Ty." But he has something else scribbled on his post-it note.
"What's that say?" I ask.
"Ty Ty. That's what my friends call me," he replied.
"Well, sorry, but I'm not calling you Ty Ty, and I'm not putting that on your name tag. I'll stick with Tyler."
"OK," he said.
*I did an activity with the students that I call "3 Facts and a Fib." The idea is for each kid to write three true facts about himself or herself, and one made-up fact. Then the students take turns sharing their facts and fib, and the rest of the students try to guess which one is the fib.
Some kids can be very clever with their facts and fibs. But not Anthony. He got up to share: 1. I'm smart. 2. I'm strong. 3. I'm silly. 4. I'm ugly
Now, I knew right away that he intended the "I'm ugly" to be his fib. And I am glad he has such a high opinion of himself (the "smart," according to his records and the work I saw him do yesterday, was, in fact, the real fib...). But, he did set himself up here. The kids began to guess the fib.
"Your smart!" they'd say, meaning, that was the one that was the fib.
But Anthony did not get upset. In fact, he would shake his head in a "I fooled you!" manner, and say, "No, that's not it..."
He had us all fooled.
*One other boy (I have 19 boys, so it'll take me awhile to get them straight) got up to read his facts and one fib. He read three things.
"You were supposed to have four things!" the other students cried.
"Oh," he said. "OK. Just a minute and I'll make something up..."
I think that was the fib.
*Conversation overheard on the playground between two first graders:
First kid: I got them at Discount Shoes! 40 bucks!
Second kid: Wow!
So, as I walked around, Leonardo told me he goes by Leo. Katelyn told me she goes by Katie. Rebecka told me she goes by Becka. Then I get to Tyler. Not much you can do with his name, unless he goes by "Ty." But he has something else scribbled on his post-it note.
"What's that say?" I ask.
"Ty Ty. That's what my friends call me," he replied.
"Well, sorry, but I'm not calling you Ty Ty, and I'm not putting that on your name tag. I'll stick with Tyler."
"OK," he said.
*I did an activity with the students that I call "3 Facts and a Fib." The idea is for each kid to write three true facts about himself or herself, and one made-up fact. Then the students take turns sharing their facts and fib, and the rest of the students try to guess which one is the fib.
Some kids can be very clever with their facts and fibs. But not Anthony. He got up to share: 1. I'm smart. 2. I'm strong. 3. I'm silly. 4. I'm ugly
Now, I knew right away that he intended the "I'm ugly" to be his fib. And I am glad he has such a high opinion of himself (the "smart," according to his records and the work I saw him do yesterday, was, in fact, the real fib...). But, he did set himself up here. The kids began to guess the fib.
"Your smart!" they'd say, meaning, that was the one that was the fib.
But Anthony did not get upset. In fact, he would shake his head in a "I fooled you!" manner, and say, "No, that's not it..."
He had us all fooled.
*One other boy (I have 19 boys, so it'll take me awhile to get them straight) got up to read his facts and one fib. He read three things.
"You were supposed to have four things!" the other students cried.
"Oh," he said. "OK. Just a minute and I'll make something up..."
I think that was the fib.
*Conversation overheard on the playground between two first graders:
First kid: I got them at Discount Shoes! 40 bucks!
Second kid: Wow!
Thursday, September 3, 2009
I'm Somebody!
Summer is over and school was slated to start August 31, but we are on strike. This is big, becuase our district has never been on strike. Teachers here have been lied to by both the district and the union for years, and it has just been the last few years, with new union leadership, that teachers have become informed about how badly they are paid, and how good teachers in other districts have it. So with our three year contract up, and bargaining not going well, or even close to going well, we voted at a General Membership meeting to go on strike. We have officially been on strike since last Thursday, but students have only missed 4 days of school so far. Many districts in our area are not starting until next week, after Labor Day, anyway.
Anyway, I came to this district 5 years ago and saw how badly teachers had it here. I began to get involved in our union right away. I figured it did no good to complain if I didn't do anything about it. I became our building alternate union rep, and last year became the main rep. I enjoy it. Also, last year I worked on the Bargaining Support Team all year long. Every Monday we met for 2 hours after school. It was a lot of time and effort, but I enjoyed working with the group of people there.
Being on the Bargaining Support Team gave me lots of jobs to do whenever we had rallies or meetings or the like. I was always involved and helping to run things. Yes, I felt important. The height of my feeling of importance was when we had a rally in August at one of the middle schools. The district had taken a halt to bargaining sessions, as they said they were at an impasse. So a State Mediator was hired. We held a rally before the fist bargaining session with the mediator. When I showed up to help, all the people there from WEA who have been helping us prepare for a possible strike were there, saying, "Oh, good! You're here! We need you to do..." And I'd do it.
Once we started to actually strike, my sense of importance disappeared. Every school has a Picket Captain, and we were encouraged to get someone other than ourself to be in that role, so I did. But our Picket Captain now became the important one-not me. I felt sad.
Then the other day our members of the Crisis Team came to our school to deliver items we might need like bubble wrap and tape to pad the bottom portion of our sign sticks to make them more comfortable to hold for hours on end. One of the items they delivered were plastic coverings to slip over our signs to keep the signs dry in inclement weather. They actually call these "condoms."
When the Crisis Team was leaving, one gal said to me, "Will you be here first thing in the morning?"
"Yes," I replied.
She hands me the rest of the plastic coverings. "Then I'll just leave these with you, and you can get them out to anyone who didn't get one," she said.
I was overcome with joy. "You mean," I said, "that you are making me CONDOM CAPTAIN?"
I began right away to take my job very seriously. I made myself a button with "CC" on the front, and then around the edge I wrote my motto: Keeping You Protected. I started to make sure everyone was protected. I found that the male teachers were the most resistant to wearing a condom. One wanted to just fold his up and put it in his wallet. As if trying to give the impression that he goes on strike a lot...I could see right through it. I was pretty adamant that everyone wear their condoms.
The younger teachers also were embarassed to put one on. I don't think they were comfortable hearing me talk about the importance of wearing a condom. I think perhaps they thought I was too old to know much about condoms, but I actually had lots of pointers to share with them. I like to believe that I'm helping them to be much more responsible now and in the future. Condoms are important.
I myself am so happy to have such an important job once again. I emailed some of my friends from Bargaining Support Team who, like me, were feeling bereft of an important job of late. They were jealous; they wished they, too, were Condom Captains, but they hadn't been appointed by their Crisis Team. I did stop by their school on my way to mine, just to make sure that they were protected. They were. I knew they would be.
Sometimes I get worn out, since I have this added responsibility of being Condom Captain. But I wouldn't trade that responsibility for the world!
Anyway, I came to this district 5 years ago and saw how badly teachers had it here. I began to get involved in our union right away. I figured it did no good to complain if I didn't do anything about it. I became our building alternate union rep, and last year became the main rep. I enjoy it. Also, last year I worked on the Bargaining Support Team all year long. Every Monday we met for 2 hours after school. It was a lot of time and effort, but I enjoyed working with the group of people there.
Being on the Bargaining Support Team gave me lots of jobs to do whenever we had rallies or meetings or the like. I was always involved and helping to run things. Yes, I felt important. The height of my feeling of importance was when we had a rally in August at one of the middle schools. The district had taken a halt to bargaining sessions, as they said they were at an impasse. So a State Mediator was hired. We held a rally before the fist bargaining session with the mediator. When I showed up to help, all the people there from WEA who have been helping us prepare for a possible strike were there, saying, "Oh, good! You're here! We need you to do..." And I'd do it.
Once we started to actually strike, my sense of importance disappeared. Every school has a Picket Captain, and we were encouraged to get someone other than ourself to be in that role, so I did. But our Picket Captain now became the important one-not me. I felt sad.
Then the other day our members of the Crisis Team came to our school to deliver items we might need like bubble wrap and tape to pad the bottom portion of our sign sticks to make them more comfortable to hold for hours on end. One of the items they delivered were plastic coverings to slip over our signs to keep the signs dry in inclement weather. They actually call these "condoms."
When the Crisis Team was leaving, one gal said to me, "Will you be here first thing in the morning?"
"Yes," I replied.
She hands me the rest of the plastic coverings. "Then I'll just leave these with you, and you can get them out to anyone who didn't get one," she said.
I was overcome with joy. "You mean," I said, "that you are making me CONDOM CAPTAIN?"
I began right away to take my job very seriously. I made myself a button with "CC" on the front, and then around the edge I wrote my motto: Keeping You Protected. I started to make sure everyone was protected. I found that the male teachers were the most resistant to wearing a condom. One wanted to just fold his up and put it in his wallet. As if trying to give the impression that he goes on strike a lot...I could see right through it. I was pretty adamant that everyone wear their condoms.
The younger teachers also were embarassed to put one on. I don't think they were comfortable hearing me talk about the importance of wearing a condom. I think perhaps they thought I was too old to know much about condoms, but I actually had lots of pointers to share with them. I like to believe that I'm helping them to be much more responsible now and in the future. Condoms are important.
I myself am so happy to have such an important job once again. I emailed some of my friends from Bargaining Support Team who, like me, were feeling bereft of an important job of late. They were jealous; they wished they, too, were Condom Captains, but they hadn't been appointed by their Crisis Team. I did stop by their school on my way to mine, just to make sure that they were protected. They were. I knew they would be.
Sometimes I get worn out, since I have this added responsibility of being Condom Captain. But I wouldn't trade that responsibility for the world!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Always Take A Shower
Last week, I had a Bargaining Support Team meeting in the morning. It is the dog days of summer right now, or even later, and we are preparing mentally to go back to school. But our union is currently bargaining a new contract with the district, and it isn't going well. I am a member of the Bargaining Support Team, as I've been all year, and this was our first meeting after the summer. A possible strike looms large on our horizon.
Anyway, I set my alarm to get up in plenty of time for coffee, a shower, and some quiet time before my meeting. I made coffee, and sat down at the computer. Soon, I looked at the clock and thought, "I'd better take that shower now." But I continued to surf the net. And drink coffee.
The moment passed, and it was too late for a shower. "Oh, well," I thought. "No big deal. It doesn't really matter to anyone I'll see at the meeting if I'm not freshly put together..." So I left for my meeting.
When I got to the meeting, I found out that it wasn't just the Bargaining Support Team. There was also a group of people from Washington Education Association, our "Crisis Team." I hate meeting people for the first time when I don't look my best...
Then, we were told that channel 4 news was going to be showing up to this meeting, as our meeting was all about preparing for a possible strike. The news guy showed up and the camera man stayed in our meeting room as we made signs. I did my best to keep out of the camera's way. I succeeded, as I later saw the news clip and didn't see me.
That afternoon, my family had decided to head over to my parents' house at the beach for the week. Again, I thought, "I don't need to take a quick shower. It's just my family, and it's late." So, no shower.
We got to my parents' place about 6:30 pm. Mom says we are going out to dinner. That surprised me, but it was still ok as the places around them to eat are not necessarily fancy. We went to this small, quirky restaurant that serves good food called The Ajax Cafe (the restaurant with hats). We got to the restaurant and were seated. Soon, a group of women come in. As they pass us, one sort of glances at me and waves. Then we both did a double take. It turned out to be a gal who worked as a sub when I first started to teach in Bellevue. I absolutely loved her, and every once in a while I run into her in the most unexpected places. But The Ajax Cafe was the most surprising place of all! I was really wishing I had showered, as she always lookes so put together.
But, we had our dinner. We were sitting there, waiting, I assumed, for the check. But no. Our waitress comes out from the kitchen carrying a little sundae with a candle in it. My birthday had been the day before (I turned 29...). Everyone in the restaurant looked at me, me without a shower that morning, and sang Happy Birthday.
I didn't take a shower that morning, and I regretted it three times that day...
Anyway, I set my alarm to get up in plenty of time for coffee, a shower, and some quiet time before my meeting. I made coffee, and sat down at the computer. Soon, I looked at the clock and thought, "I'd better take that shower now." But I continued to surf the net. And drink coffee.
The moment passed, and it was too late for a shower. "Oh, well," I thought. "No big deal. It doesn't really matter to anyone I'll see at the meeting if I'm not freshly put together..." So I left for my meeting.
When I got to the meeting, I found out that it wasn't just the Bargaining Support Team. There was also a group of people from Washington Education Association, our "Crisis Team." I hate meeting people for the first time when I don't look my best...
Then, we were told that channel 4 news was going to be showing up to this meeting, as our meeting was all about preparing for a possible strike. The news guy showed up and the camera man stayed in our meeting room as we made signs. I did my best to keep out of the camera's way. I succeeded, as I later saw the news clip and didn't see me.
That afternoon, my family had decided to head over to my parents' house at the beach for the week. Again, I thought, "I don't need to take a quick shower. It's just my family, and it's late." So, no shower.
We got to my parents' place about 6:30 pm. Mom says we are going out to dinner. That surprised me, but it was still ok as the places around them to eat are not necessarily fancy. We went to this small, quirky restaurant that serves good food called The Ajax Cafe (the restaurant with hats). We got to the restaurant and were seated. Soon, a group of women come in. As they pass us, one sort of glances at me and waves. Then we both did a double take. It turned out to be a gal who worked as a sub when I first started to teach in Bellevue. I absolutely loved her, and every once in a while I run into her in the most unexpected places. But The Ajax Cafe was the most surprising place of all! I was really wishing I had showered, as she always lookes so put together.
But, we had our dinner. We were sitting there, waiting, I assumed, for the check. But no. Our waitress comes out from the kitchen carrying a little sundae with a candle in it. My birthday had been the day before (I turned 29...). Everyone in the restaurant looked at me, me without a shower that morning, and sang Happy Birthday.
I didn't take a shower that morning, and I regretted it three times that day...
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
What Really Matters Pt. 2
Today I went to the funeral for the mom of one of my students. He is one of triplet boys, and has a sister who is one year older. Their mother was cremated, and I watched my student and his 5th grade brothers lower the container into the ground. I watched my student help to bury his mother today. I've never seen anything so sad.
I played teatherball with my girls today and hugged them every chance I could. That's what really matters.
I played teatherball with my girls today and hugged them every chance I could. That's what really matters.
Friday, June 12, 2009
What Really Matters
Last week was Award's Night for Emily's school. She has worked so hard to maintain As in all of her classes. Last fall, her goal for the year was to get straight As so that she could get the "All As" certificate at the Awards Assembly. Last year, she missed the "All As" certificate because she let her grade in science drop to a B+ during the play. This year, she vowed not to let that happen. And it didn't. She worked VERY HARD this year.
Cut to the Awards Assembly. Emily was so excited to go. She had worked so hard this year, and knew she was going to get the "All As" certificate, and she figured she'd also get a Department Award, possibly in Language Arts, Social Studies, or Science, because her scores in those classes were so good. The teachers of those classes all would tell me how hard she worked, doing the job of 5 students. I was also pretty confident that this was the year she'd get several awards.
But, just like a year ago, I had to watch her face sort of freeze as each department called out their recipients, and Emily's name was not called. Then it was time for the "All As" recipients. They were told that first they would call out the names of the "3.2 and above" recipients (which was the requirement to get invited to the Awards Night), and then would call out the "All As." If a student was to get an "All A's" then he or she WOULD NOT get called for the "3.2 and Above." So I didn't expect her to get called until the "All As." But she was called for the "3.2 Award."
We were all surprised. She worked so hard this year. Why didn't she get the "All As" certificate?
Turns out, it was a B she received in PE for Term 3. PE? Who counts PE anyway? And why did she get a B? I looked at Skyward, and could not find one reason that she got a B. So I emailed the PE teacher.
Long story short, she got a B in PE because she missed three days of PE that term and didn't make those days up. Make them up? This is PE, for god's sake. How do you make up a missed PE day? And Emily seemed surprised that she had to make up missed PE days. I was mad because out of those three days, two of them were for school activities: the play and a choir concert. One day was illness. All three were excused absences.
The PE teacher and I emailed back and forth a bit. Then, when I didn't get a satisfactory answer, I emailed the principal, telling her how unhappy I was that not only could Emily's teachers not find it necessary to give her a department award that she so deserved, but that the lousy B in PE due only to three absences kept her from her year-long goal of getting the "All As" certificate. My reply from her was some pat answer, and she signed off with "...let me know if you have any concerns or questions." I replied, "I just did that. And it didn't help."
Later, I was talking to my principal about the whole affair. I cry when I talk about it, because I know how hard Emily has worked this year, and how disappointed she was. She cried the minute we left the awards night, and cried all night long. She hardly ever cries. So my principal asked, "Well, was the absence policy in writing somewhere? Because if it isn't, I bet you could challenge the grade."
I wasn't sure. I went online to look at the teacher's PE website, and all I saw were some PE pictures, and the announcement that he had won PE Educator of the Year for the third year in a row. Next I went to the Parent/Student Handbook document online, and went through it. I usually don't bother reading it, because my kids don't misbehave, so I don't feel I need to know most of what's in there. But I thought perhaps the PE policy was there. But it wasn't.
So I emailed the PE teacher again, asking where I could find their absence policy in writing. He emailed me back that it was an "expectation that has been communicated to the students for the past 5 years." I replied, "Communicated how? Verbally? You can't tell students something once, and expect them to get it-even good kids like Emily..." I went on to say that all it would have taken was for him to say to Emily, when her SIGNED OFF THE OFFICIAL DISTRICT FORM FOR HER TO BE EXCUSED FROM CLASS FOR A SCHOOL ACTIVITY,"Be sure to make up the missed time, now..." And she would have.
Well, now he's mad, and responds back to me in disbelief that I am now challenging a grade from three months ago. He wonders where was I when she got that grade? And in fact I probably should have asked about it then. But I didn't think PE counted...
However, I had CCd the principal in my previous reply. She knew I had a point, even if she was now tired of me. She offered to give Emily the "All As" certificate. That's all it took. Very simple. And I knew Emily would be happy, and we all at our house feel that she deserved it.
Because PE just doesn't count.
Cut to the Awards Assembly. Emily was so excited to go. She had worked so hard this year, and knew she was going to get the "All As" certificate, and she figured she'd also get a Department Award, possibly in Language Arts, Social Studies, or Science, because her scores in those classes were so good. The teachers of those classes all would tell me how hard she worked, doing the job of 5 students. I was also pretty confident that this was the year she'd get several awards.
But, just like a year ago, I had to watch her face sort of freeze as each department called out their recipients, and Emily's name was not called. Then it was time for the "All As" recipients. They were told that first they would call out the names of the "3.2 and above" recipients (which was the requirement to get invited to the Awards Night), and then would call out the "All As." If a student was to get an "All A's" then he or she WOULD NOT get called for the "3.2 and Above." So I didn't expect her to get called until the "All As." But she was called for the "3.2 Award."
We were all surprised. She worked so hard this year. Why didn't she get the "All As" certificate?
Turns out, it was a B she received in PE for Term 3. PE? Who counts PE anyway? And why did she get a B? I looked at Skyward, and could not find one reason that she got a B. So I emailed the PE teacher.
Long story short, she got a B in PE because she missed three days of PE that term and didn't make those days up. Make them up? This is PE, for god's sake. How do you make up a missed PE day? And Emily seemed surprised that she had to make up missed PE days. I was mad because out of those three days, two of them were for school activities: the play and a choir concert. One day was illness. All three were excused absences.
The PE teacher and I emailed back and forth a bit. Then, when I didn't get a satisfactory answer, I emailed the principal, telling her how unhappy I was that not only could Emily's teachers not find it necessary to give her a department award that she so deserved, but that the lousy B in PE due only to three absences kept her from her year-long goal of getting the "All As" certificate. My reply from her was some pat answer, and she signed off with "...let me know if you have any concerns or questions." I replied, "I just did that. And it didn't help."
Later, I was talking to my principal about the whole affair. I cry when I talk about it, because I know how hard Emily has worked this year, and how disappointed she was. She cried the minute we left the awards night, and cried all night long. She hardly ever cries. So my principal asked, "Well, was the absence policy in writing somewhere? Because if it isn't, I bet you could challenge the grade."
I wasn't sure. I went online to look at the teacher's PE website, and all I saw were some PE pictures, and the announcement that he had won PE Educator of the Year for the third year in a row. Next I went to the Parent/Student Handbook document online, and went through it. I usually don't bother reading it, because my kids don't misbehave, so I don't feel I need to know most of what's in there. But I thought perhaps the PE policy was there. But it wasn't.
So I emailed the PE teacher again, asking where I could find their absence policy in writing. He emailed me back that it was an "expectation that has been communicated to the students for the past 5 years." I replied, "Communicated how? Verbally? You can't tell students something once, and expect them to get it-even good kids like Emily..." I went on to say that all it would have taken was for him to say to Emily, when her SIGNED OFF THE OFFICIAL DISTRICT FORM FOR HER TO BE EXCUSED FROM CLASS FOR A SCHOOL ACTIVITY,"Be sure to make up the missed time, now..." And she would have.
Well, now he's mad, and responds back to me in disbelief that I am now challenging a grade from three months ago. He wonders where was I when she got that grade? And in fact I probably should have asked about it then. But I didn't think PE counted...
However, I had CCd the principal in my previous reply. She knew I had a point, even if she was now tired of me. She offered to give Emily the "All As" certificate. That's all it took. Very simple. And I knew Emily would be happy, and we all at our house feel that she deserved it.
Because PE just doesn't count.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
A Penny Saved Is A Penny Earned, But Not Much More Than That
Last night my daughter, Emily, got $20.00 in the mail from my parents for working so hard this year and getting all As (except for PE, which is a bone of contention right now between myself and the PE teacher, but I digress) in school this year.
She added the $20.00 to the $10.00 that she also got from my parents the night of her piano recital. Next thing I know, she's got a calculator, pencil, and paper, and is going to figure out if she puts her money in the bank, and it compounds 3% interest, how much it'll grow by.
She apparently has over $100.00 in HER PURSE, because she just saves and doesn't like to spend (she only likes spending my money)...And yes, she does have a bank account. Anyway, she does all the correct math, and soon has her answer.
She says to me, "So if I put my money in the bank, and it gets 3% interest, by the time I take it out in five years for college, it won't have...it won't have...it really won't have changed that much..."
That's the reality, I guess...
She added the $20.00 to the $10.00 that she also got from my parents the night of her piano recital. Next thing I know, she's got a calculator, pencil, and paper, and is going to figure out if she puts her money in the bank, and it compounds 3% interest, how much it'll grow by.
She apparently has over $100.00 in HER PURSE, because she just saves and doesn't like to spend (she only likes spending my money)...And yes, she does have a bank account. Anyway, she does all the correct math, and soon has her answer.
She says to me, "So if I put my money in the bank, and it gets 3% interest, by the time I take it out in five years for college, it won't have...it won't have...it really won't have changed that much..."
That's the reality, I guess...
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Now It All Makes Sense!
The other day I finished reading Inkheart aloud to my class, and was ready to begin a new book. I wanted to read them the book called Alabama Moon, which I had bought because of the intriguing title. I read it to myself first, and thought it was a terrific book. So, to peak my kids' interest in the book, I built it up. I began by talking about the old addage: Don't judge a book by it's cover. We discussed the meaning of that saying, and I followed that up with the fact that not only do I judge books by their cover, but also by their unique titles, which was why I bought the book Alabama Moon. I then began to read the first couple of chapters, and when I finished, the kids actually applauded.
Anyway, soon it was time to go to pe. As the kids were lining up, I noticed that Nhu was wearing her favorite shirt with the saying that she didn't understand. As she went out the door, she said, "Look, Mrs. Teacher!"
I said, "I noticed that you are wearing your favorite shirt that you metioned in your last essay."
And she replied, "Yes, and now I understand what it means!" She was so happy.
Anyway, soon it was time to go to pe. As the kids were lining up, I noticed that Nhu was wearing her favorite shirt with the saying that she didn't understand. As she went out the door, she said, "Look, Mrs. Teacher!"
I said, "I noticed that you are wearing your favorite shirt that you metioned in your last essay."
And she replied, "Yes, and now I understand what it means!" She was so happy.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
On Being Persuasive
My students have been writing persuasive essays of late. The last persuasive essay I had assigned was about whether or not we should have to wear school uniforms. Many of the papers were actually quite good-I was pleased!
Nhu, my English Language Learner, wrote a paper with nice examples to back up her reasons, which was my goal of this paper. And her paper made me laugh! One of her reasons for not wanting to wear school uniforms was that students wouldn't be able to express their own individuality by wearing their favorite clothes. Her example cited that fact that she wouldn't be able to wear her "favorite t-shirt that says Don't judge a girl by her t-shirt (although I still don't know what that means...)."
Too funny!
Nhu, my English Language Learner, wrote a paper with nice examples to back up her reasons, which was my goal of this paper. And her paper made me laugh! One of her reasons for not wanting to wear school uniforms was that students wouldn't be able to express their own individuality by wearing their favorite clothes. Her example cited that fact that she wouldn't be able to wear her "favorite t-shirt that says Don't judge a girl by her t-shirt (although I still don't know what that means...)."
Too funny!
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Private Vs. Public-What's the Deal?
For the second year in a row now, my older daughter has participated in the school district's annual musical that is put on for 6th-9th grade students (middle school and jr. high). It's a fabulous program, and the director, a district employee, always does a phenominal job with the kids. Last year they put on "Suessical the Musical, and this year they are doing "Annie." The kids work hard, even the ones in the smaller roles, and it's fun for them.
Yesterday was Emily's first performance. There are two casts, and three performances a weekend for two weekends. Each cast does a Saturday matinee one weekend, and a Friday night and Saturday night performance the other weekend. Yesterday was a matinee performance for Emily. My parents came, and my mother-in-law came, and Stella brought a friend. The kids did a great job.
After the play, the grandparents all went their respective ways. We went out to dinner, and then to Dairy Queen, just to celebrate. It was during this time that Emily tells me that before each performance they do a "prayer circle."
What? Is this a private, religious school? No. It's a public school. So why do they insist on this? I could understand just group well-wishing, break-a-leg cast bonding thing, but they say Amen at the end. That is not necessary. Again, I hate this assumption that everyone thinks and believes the same way. I hate religion crammed down your throat.
If I wanted my kid to pray at a school function, I would have sent her to a private school.
Yesterday was Emily's first performance. There are two casts, and three performances a weekend for two weekends. Each cast does a Saturday matinee one weekend, and a Friday night and Saturday night performance the other weekend. Yesterday was a matinee performance for Emily. My parents came, and my mother-in-law came, and Stella brought a friend. The kids did a great job.
After the play, the grandparents all went their respective ways. We went out to dinner, and then to Dairy Queen, just to celebrate. It was during this time that Emily tells me that before each performance they do a "prayer circle."
What? Is this a private, religious school? No. It's a public school. So why do they insist on this? I could understand just group well-wishing, break-a-leg cast bonding thing, but they say Amen at the end. That is not necessary. Again, I hate this assumption that everyone thinks and believes the same way. I hate religion crammed down your throat.
If I wanted my kid to pray at a school function, I would have sent her to a private school.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Sometimes You Make A Difference
Here's an email I got the other day. It was a such a great thing to read on a Monday morning...
Subject: PLEASE READ THIS FAST PLEASE READ
Hey, remember me? Im vasiliy your (former) sixth grade student.
You thought (taught) me a lot of great things thanks for everything you did. I did not realized that when I was in your class. But now I did. I think your kids did not realize that now to. But some day they will. Middle school is not that hard. All you have do is your homework its 40 percent of your grade. And the rest of it is tests. They are really hard. You have to study a lot. I have straight As I’m 4.0 student all because of you. Let your kids read this message. Email me back when u are done.
I did email him back. I do remember him (it was just last year...). He was a nice kid who blurted out in class, but did get that under control. He was a former ELL student, and you can see from his email that he still has some trouble with the grammar. I'm glad a student can still be a 4.0 student who has challenges with English. And I did share my email with my class.
Subject: PLEASE READ THIS FAST PLEASE READ
Hey, remember me? Im vasiliy your (former) sixth grade student.
You thought (taught) me a lot of great things thanks for everything you did. I did not realized that when I was in your class. But now I did. I think your kids did not realize that now to. But some day they will. Middle school is not that hard. All you have do is your homework its 40 percent of your grade. And the rest of it is tests. They are really hard. You have to study a lot. I have straight As I’m 4.0 student all because of you. Let your kids read this message. Email me back when u are done.
I did email him back. I do remember him (it was just last year...). He was a nice kid who blurted out in class, but did get that under control. He was a former ELL student, and you can see from his email that he still has some trouble with the grammar. I'm glad a student can still be a 4.0 student who has challenges with English. And I did share my email with my class.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Out of the Mouths of Babes Pt. 2
A cold spell has hit us in March, and we are getting frigid temperatures. Yesterday it snowed pretty heavily, and this morning was below freezing and icy. I decided to wear my school fleece pullover, which I hardly ever wear. I wore black pants and a black turtle neck shirt underneath. The pull over fleece is sort of a cobalt blue color.
After lunch recess, I went out to pick up my kids. One student was at the head of the line, and walked next to me as we went into the building.
"Mrs. Teacher," she said, "You look like a blueberry!"
I guess maybe I should lose a few pounds.
After lunch recess, I went out to pick up my kids. One student was at the head of the line, and walked next to me as we went into the building.
"Mrs. Teacher," she said, "You look like a blueberry!"
I guess maybe I should lose a few pounds.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Heartfelt? You Decide.
It's that time of the year again: grading time. As I was going through student files, I came across an apology note written to me from a fifth grade boy, who is a nice kid but tends to blurt out comments without thinking at the wrong time. Here's the note:
Dear Teacher,
I am deeply sorry I interrupted your story at the end of class. I was wrong to do that. It was foolish and childish. I am trying to be the best student I can. There are some ups and downs. The blurt I said was very bad because it interrupted one good story. I was dumb and wrong to shout that out. I understand it was wrong and I am willing to suffer any consequences that you will bestoe on me. So with further do I apologize and dissapointed in myself. I will try not to do anything like it again. If you will forgive me I am very sorry. I hope you think good of this letter.
Sincerely,
John
Dear Teacher,
I am deeply sorry I interrupted your story at the end of class. I was wrong to do that. It was foolish and childish. I am trying to be the best student I can. There are some ups and downs. The blurt I said was very bad because it interrupted one good story. I was dumb and wrong to shout that out. I understand it was wrong and I am willing to suffer any consequences that you will bestoe on me. So with further do I apologize and dissapointed in myself. I will try not to do anything like it again. If you will forgive me I am very sorry. I hope you think good of this letter.
Sincerely,
John
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Perhaps Ruffage Will Help
Today I was reading aloud from a wonderful book called Maniac Magee. In one part, Maniac goes into a stinky, dirty house. One of the reasons it is stinky is because the dog in the house peed on the floor. It isn't Maniac's house, but he gets some newspaper anyway to soak up the pee. The story goes on to say that Maniac also sees something else left by the dog that can't be soaked up with a newspaper, but is stinky just the same.
Most of the kids understood: "Eeew!" and "Gross!" But some kids were still dumbfounded. And then someone asked, "Is that number two, or number three?"
Number three? Now, I know what number one is, and I know what number two is. What is number three?
Further discussion ensues about just how many "numbers" kids have, if you know what I mean. One kid also had a number four. Another kid had a number five. When one kid said he also had a number six, I had to stop it right there. This was just too much information-or not enough, really, because what all kinds of poop were they talking about?
Perhaps they just need to get a little more fiber in their diet. I'll have to bring it up at conference time.
Most of the kids understood: "Eeew!" and "Gross!" But some kids were still dumbfounded. And then someone asked, "Is that number two, or number three?"
Number three? Now, I know what number one is, and I know what number two is. What is number three?
Further discussion ensues about just how many "numbers" kids have, if you know what I mean. One kid also had a number four. Another kid had a number five. When one kid said he also had a number six, I had to stop it right there. This was just too much information-or not enough, really, because what all kinds of poop were they talking about?
Perhaps they just need to get a little more fiber in their diet. I'll have to bring it up at conference time.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Who Is Teaching Whom About Religion?
Too funny. Earlier this year, my older daughter had to do big research project on the spread of Christianity during the middle ages. No, I do not send my kids to private school. This was history, they said, not teaching religion. Whatever. My daughter's essay was on the fall of Jerusalem. She learned a lot and got an A.
Now, you've probable figured out that I'm not a very religious person. I didn't attend church growing up, except for a few years when my older sister thought we should. That didn't last. Neither do we attend church now. I was turned off from formal religion as a kid, and early on recognized the hypocrisy in it. I don't feel that I need it in my life in order to be a good person.
My religious education, really, came from sleepovers. If I spent Saturday night with a friend whose family attended church, I generally went with them on Sunday. I pretty much thought church was boring. But, that was my religious teaching, that and Moses parting the Red Sea on TV.
Last night, Emily spent the night with a friend, and her family went to church today, so Emily went along. Luckily, it was the local Presbyterian Church, not some small fanatical one. Anyway, she went with the friend to the Youth Group. The Leader apparently asked her, after finding out she didn't attend church, what she knew about religion and the Bible.
So, she told him. She told him everything she learned from doing her research project on the Fall of Jerusalem. She told him things he didn't know. I think she enlightened him. My job here is done.
Now, you've probable figured out that I'm not a very religious person. I didn't attend church growing up, except for a few years when my older sister thought we should. That didn't last. Neither do we attend church now. I was turned off from formal religion as a kid, and early on recognized the hypocrisy in it. I don't feel that I need it in my life in order to be a good person.
My religious education, really, came from sleepovers. If I spent Saturday night with a friend whose family attended church, I generally went with them on Sunday. I pretty much thought church was boring. But, that was my religious teaching, that and Moses parting the Red Sea on TV.
Last night, Emily spent the night with a friend, and her family went to church today, so Emily went along. Luckily, it was the local Presbyterian Church, not some small fanatical one. Anyway, she went with the friend to the Youth Group. The Leader apparently asked her, after finding out she didn't attend church, what she knew about religion and the Bible.
So, she told him. She told him everything she learned from doing her research project on the Fall of Jerusalem. She told him things he didn't know. I think she enlightened him. My job here is done.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
That's Your Opinion...
I hate that people assume everyone goes to church and believes the way they do. I took my younger daughter to the doctor, as she has been complaining about her stomach for a long time. She is a great worrier, and has begun to think something is wrong. So to put her worries, about her stomach at least, to rest, I took her in. The doctor, whom I really don't care for, as she strikes me as being too abrasive, checked her stomach and declared it fine. We talked a bit about the fact that my daughter is a worrier. The doctor said, "Well, that's just the way God made her."
I'm sure that comment was meant to alleviate my worries as well as my daughter's worries; however, why would the doctor make that comment? Why did she assume that I believe in God?
I wish I had responded, "We believe that that is how she has evolved..." It's time to find a new doctor-I think I'll go back to the clinic I took the kids to before we moved. It's just a little bit too "We all must think and believe the same way..." down here.
I'm sure that comment was meant to alleviate my worries as well as my daughter's worries; however, why would the doctor make that comment? Why did she assume that I believe in God?
I wish I had responded, "We believe that that is how she has evolved..." It's time to find a new doctor-I think I'll go back to the clinic I took the kids to before we moved. It's just a little bit too "We all must think and believe the same way..." down here.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Another Diagnosis
Today at my school the 6th grade team had a CAST meeting. CAST stands for Collaborative Something Something Something. Anyway, at the beginning of the year I attended a CAST meeting with the 5th grade team, because I like them better, but this time I had been scheduled to meet with the 6th grade team. So, we met.
Our focus was on those kids who are failing. They failed the WASL last year, and are continuing to fail in class. We started with math. I looked at my class list, and identified five sixth graders who consistently fail their chapter math tests. I was then told to include any student who scored below 400, a passing score, on the math WASL the previous year. That brought my list to eight. Keep in mind that as a 5/6 split class, I only have twelve 6th graders. That's 2/3 of my sixth graders who performed below passing on the WASL. Oh, well.
My principal moved on to the next teacher. He began to look at his list of students, and only identified about 5. Out of a whole class of 6th graders. I'm beginning to feel like I was dumped on with the low achieving students...Anyway, he then pauses over one student he had mentioned.
"No," he said. "I can't send Bobby to Mrs. Helper for math help. He has a disability where he can't hear women."
What?
"What?" I asked.
"It's the tone of the female voice," he explained further. "He can't hear it. That's why he has me for a teacher."
"I've never heard of that," I said.
Then, out of boredom, my mind began to wander. And I said, "I can just see him one day when he is married. His wife will say, 'Why didn't you pick up the gallon of milk like I asked? Weren't you listening? I swear, it's like you can't even hear me...'"
Our focus was on those kids who are failing. They failed the WASL last year, and are continuing to fail in class. We started with math. I looked at my class list, and identified five sixth graders who consistently fail their chapter math tests. I was then told to include any student who scored below 400, a passing score, on the math WASL the previous year. That brought my list to eight. Keep in mind that as a 5/6 split class, I only have twelve 6th graders. That's 2/3 of my sixth graders who performed below passing on the WASL. Oh, well.
My principal moved on to the next teacher. He began to look at his list of students, and only identified about 5. Out of a whole class of 6th graders. I'm beginning to feel like I was dumped on with the low achieving students...Anyway, he then pauses over one student he had mentioned.
"No," he said. "I can't send Bobby to Mrs. Helper for math help. He has a disability where he can't hear women."
What?
"What?" I asked.
"It's the tone of the female voice," he explained further. "He can't hear it. That's why he has me for a teacher."
"I've never heard of that," I said.
Then, out of boredom, my mind began to wander. And I said, "I can just see him one day when he is married. His wife will say, 'Why didn't you pick up the gallon of milk like I asked? Weren't you listening? I swear, it's like you can't even hear me...'"
Saturday, January 24, 2009
A Medical Diagnosis
Cold and flu season has hit, and I had a lot of absences this week. One girl was out almost all week long. On Thursday, I was walking from the office back to my classroom, and I took a shortcut through the computer lab. Her younger brother was in there with his class.
"Hi, Mrs. Teacher!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. I went over to him to say hi.
"What's wrong with your sister?" I asked.
"She's sick," he informed me.
"I know," I said. Wondering if it was the flu, I then asked, "Does she have a stomach ache?"
"No," he said, "I think she just has snot stuck in her throat!"
"I hate it when that happens," I replied.
"Hi, Mrs. Teacher!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. I went over to him to say hi.
"What's wrong with your sister?" I asked.
"She's sick," he informed me.
"I know," I said. Wondering if it was the flu, I then asked, "Does she have a stomach ache?"
"No," he said, "I think she just has snot stuck in her throat!"
"I hate it when that happens," I replied.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Just Do Laps!
Yesterday my class had PE. This means I have 30 minutes of planning time. I had done a few things, including running off some things in the workroom, and signing up for my observation. Then I returned to my room.
I looked at the clock and noted, with much happiness, that I still had 10 minutes of planning time. I checked my emails, to see an email from our union president that I was to forward to my fellow staff members. I was in the process of doing this, when my door opens and one of my students comes in the room. Followed by another. And another.
"What's going on?" I cried. At first, I thought that perhaps I had my times all wrong, and that PE was over. Our PE teacher is notorious for just sending the kids back on their own if the teacher is late getting them. The kids continue to file into the room, quietly (that's so unlike them...), and sitting at their desks. Finally, the PE teacher comes in, looking serious.
"Oh, oh," I said. "What happened?"
Well, she proceeds to tell me. The kids are doing a folk dance/square dance unit in PE. Today, she had asked them to be in boy-girl partners, and she didn't get the positive reaction that she had hoped for. When she tried to make light of it, things apparently got worse, until I think she must have reached her frustration level and walked them back to my room. Early. During my planning time.
If you are not a teacher, you do not understand this imposition, unless you just try to imagine your boss taking away your break time. And, your boss just took away your break time because SOMEONE ELSE in your department didn't follow directions. Now, you have no control over that other person's behavior. So why should you be punished?
That is how I felt. My students were not in my control during PE. They were in the PE teacher's control. She is a certified teacher, just like me. They misbehaved for her, so she should have dealt with it during PE, and not in my room, taking away my planning time. For god's sake, it's PE. Make them run laps without stopping until the agree to cooperate.
And she is a big union contract person. You'd think she'd know better. My opinion of her has just dropped. I think I shall complain about this one to my beloved principal. I am so tired of having to be responsible for my students' behavior when they AREN'T with me.
The PE teacher can't handle them for a half hour? She should just be glad she doesn't have them all day long...
I looked at the clock and noted, with much happiness, that I still had 10 minutes of planning time. I checked my emails, to see an email from our union president that I was to forward to my fellow staff members. I was in the process of doing this, when my door opens and one of my students comes in the room. Followed by another. And another.
"What's going on?" I cried. At first, I thought that perhaps I had my times all wrong, and that PE was over. Our PE teacher is notorious for just sending the kids back on their own if the teacher is late getting them. The kids continue to file into the room, quietly (that's so unlike them...), and sitting at their desks. Finally, the PE teacher comes in, looking serious.
"Oh, oh," I said. "What happened?"
Well, she proceeds to tell me. The kids are doing a folk dance/square dance unit in PE. Today, she had asked them to be in boy-girl partners, and she didn't get the positive reaction that she had hoped for. When she tried to make light of it, things apparently got worse, until I think she must have reached her frustration level and walked them back to my room. Early. During my planning time.
If you are not a teacher, you do not understand this imposition, unless you just try to imagine your boss taking away your break time. And, your boss just took away your break time because SOMEONE ELSE in your department didn't follow directions. Now, you have no control over that other person's behavior. So why should you be punished?
That is how I felt. My students were not in my control during PE. They were in the PE teacher's control. She is a certified teacher, just like me. They misbehaved for her, so she should have dealt with it during PE, and not in my room, taking away my planning time. For god's sake, it's PE. Make them run laps without stopping until the agree to cooperate.
And she is a big union contract person. You'd think she'd know better. My opinion of her has just dropped. I think I shall complain about this one to my beloved principal. I am so tired of having to be responsible for my students' behavior when they AREN'T with me.
The PE teacher can't handle them for a half hour? She should just be glad she doesn't have them all day long...
Friday, January 16, 2009
Better Than Walmart
Today book orders were due. I had told my students this time that they could pay by either check or with cash. So today one of my boys was busily filling out his book order form first thing this morning. He was very excited to be ordering some books. He then brought the form to me.
"Do you have a check?" I asked.
"No," he replied.
His order cost $10.00. "Do you have enough money," I asked again.
"Yes," he replied. "I have $14.00, but I'm saving the $4.00." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small wad of bills. "See?" he said. He then peeled off two $5 dollar bills, and handed them to me. Then he said, "Here's one more dollar in case there's tax!"
I said, "Oh, that's the nice thing about book orders! There's no tax!"
"Really?" he said. "Wow! That's better than Walmart!"
"Do you have a check?" I asked.
"No," he replied.
His order cost $10.00. "Do you have enough money," I asked again.
"Yes," he replied. "I have $14.00, but I'm saving the $4.00." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small wad of bills. "See?" he said. He then peeled off two $5 dollar bills, and handed them to me. Then he said, "Here's one more dollar in case there's tax!"
I said, "Oh, that's the nice thing about book orders! There's no tax!"
"Really?" he said. "Wow! That's better than Walmart!"
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Another spelling vent re: parent email
Yesterday, I received this email in my box from another 5th grade teacher. The following was first what the parent wrote (who is either illiterate, or a non-native English speaker):
"Evan and his brother Aaron, have both come home the last 2 couple of days saying the this child name Dakota in the 5th grade is bulling Evan. Evan told me last night that Dakota told him yesterday to "be prepared to get beat after school". I told Evan he needs to be reporting these things and he is suppose to come to you today. Has he done this? Again it takes Evan a lot to ignore these things and Aaron says this Dakota person is continously agging Evan on and when Evan ignores him he just keeps going till Evan explodes. This has to stop! Or I know for sure Evan will snap and someone is going to get hurt or in big trouble. Will you please please look into this!"
The sad thing is, here is the teacher's response to this email, which was cc'd to me (because I am Dakota's teacher), to the Education Assistant, and to the principal:
"This is the FIRST time I have heard of this! No, Evan has not reported this to me. (Our school) is NO BULLING school and this will NOT be tolerated!"
Note that she proclaims our school to be a "NO BULLING" (caps were hers) school. Poor gal. She sent that to me, to the EA, and to our principal. I wonder if any of them caught the spelling mistake (which is even sadder if they didn't...). And that's no bull...
"Evan and his brother Aaron, have both come home the last 2 couple of days saying the this child name Dakota in the 5th grade is bulling Evan. Evan told me last night that Dakota told him yesterday to "be prepared to get beat after school". I told Evan he needs to be reporting these things and he is suppose to come to you today. Has he done this? Again it takes Evan a lot to ignore these things and Aaron says this Dakota person is continously agging Evan on and when Evan ignores him he just keeps going till Evan explodes. This has to stop! Or I know for sure Evan will snap and someone is going to get hurt or in big trouble. Will you please please look into this!"
The sad thing is, here is the teacher's response to this email, which was cc'd to me (because I am Dakota's teacher), to the Education Assistant, and to the principal:
"This is the FIRST time I have heard of this! No, Evan has not reported this to me. (Our school) is NO BULLING school and this will NOT be tolerated!"
Note that she proclaims our school to be a "NO BULLING" (caps were hers) school. Poor gal. She sent that to me, to the EA, and to our principal. I wonder if any of them caught the spelling mistake (which is even sadder if they didn't...). And that's no bull...
Monday, January 12, 2009
Enough!
This morning before I left for work I had to plunge out a clogged toilet. This evening when I came home from work I had to clean up cat puke. There was sort of a bodily fluid theme to my day today...
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
How Can This Be?
Today I got a letter from a former student. She was such a nice little girl, and I absolutely loved her mom. I also taught one of her younger brothers. They were just such a nice family that I've stayed in touch with them. I went to my student's Bat Mitzvah. I send the family regular holiday greetings.
Today I got a letter. She's almost 30.
Today I got a letter. She's almost 30.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Bikers Carrying Guns?
Yesterday, Eric and I went out late afternoon to do a few errands. We had turned down a side street, heading over to another major road to take to our first destination. I was chatting away about something terribly important (I'm sure), when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a bike rider. He was not a kid, but at least high school if not in his early 20s. He had a crew cut and was not wearing a helmet, riding on the very narrow edge of the road.
All of a sudden, a sherrif's car comes from our left, and he flashes his lights. Not at us, but at the bike rider. My first assumption was that it was because the bike rider wasn't wearing a helmet, and there is a helmet law in our state. But upon closer scrutinization, I saw that the bike rider had a rifle across his lap! Now, of course it could have simply been a bb gun, but it looked real.
The biker stopped his bike, and immediately leaned the rifle against the gaurd rail. The sherrif looked like he was holding something out pointed at the biker. Not a gun, but I'm thinking now it might have been a tazer or something like that. We quickly just went around them and continued on our way.
Luckily, my 2008 did not end with a bang.
All of a sudden, a sherrif's car comes from our left, and he flashes his lights. Not at us, but at the bike rider. My first assumption was that it was because the bike rider wasn't wearing a helmet, and there is a helmet law in our state. But upon closer scrutinization, I saw that the bike rider had a rifle across his lap! Now, of course it could have simply been a bb gun, but it looked real.
The biker stopped his bike, and immediately leaned the rifle against the gaurd rail. The sherrif looked like he was holding something out pointed at the biker. Not a gun, but I'm thinking now it might have been a tazer or something like that. We quickly just went around them and continued on our way.
Luckily, my 2008 did not end with a bang.
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