I was in the check out line today at Fred Myer, buying some storage containers to pack away Christmas decorations. I was by myself, and was lost in thought, when this guy behind made a comment about something that sounded like the topic was sports. I glanced back to see who he was talking to, and it seemed as if he was talking to me.
"Are you talking football to me?" I asked. He indicated that he was, and then said something about the Seahawks. "If you want to talk football, I'm not the one to talk to," I said. "I don't like football."
"Well, you won't after this weekend. They are going to lose," he said.
I couldn't believe he was continuing to talk to me about football, when I told him I do not like football and do not watch the Seahawks. "What bothers me about football, or any sport really, is that the players can be interviewed and will say how they had an off season, but next season will be better, and they still make their huge salaries. What other profession can you say, 'Sorry, I had an off year, but next year I'll do better...', and still get your pay? I teach, and I sure couldn't get away with that. A doctor couldn't. A policeman couldn't. But for some reason we accept this from a professional sports player. It's ridiculous."
He agreed. Maybe he was afraid not to agree with me. I paid for my things and left. The world will be a better place when doctors, police, firemen, and teachers make the salaries a professional sports player makes, and they make what I make.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Rhetorical Questions
Last Friday was the last school day before Winter Break. I swear, it seems like most every kid brought me a gift. I've never had a year like that in my little school. It was gift bags galore on my desk.
I opened each gift during the kids' lunch time. Since my kids eat in the class, I would call each one up to my desk as I opened their gift. Then I could thank the child profusely right then and there. The kids just really like watching their teacher open their gift. I got my share of mugs, coffee, candles, and Christams tree ornaments (my favorites).
Finally, the last gift I opened was Josh's gift. I called him over. He stood in front of me as I got his present on my lap. I looked at him and said, "This is so exciting...I wonder what you got me?"
"Oh, it's just coffee," he replied.
I gave Josh an impromptu lesson about rhetorical questions.
I opened each gift during the kids' lunch time. Since my kids eat in the class, I would call each one up to my desk as I opened their gift. Then I could thank the child profusely right then and there. The kids just really like watching their teacher open their gift. I got my share of mugs, coffee, candles, and Christams tree ornaments (my favorites).
Finally, the last gift I opened was Josh's gift. I called him over. He stood in front of me as I got his present on my lap. I looked at him and said, "This is so exciting...I wonder what you got me?"
"Oh, it's just coffee," he replied.
I gave Josh an impromptu lesson about rhetorical questions.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
The Guilty Never Feel Guilt
We just got out Friday for two sweet weeks of winter break. About 1 1/2 weeks ago, Cathy gave me a present. It was in a gift bag, and it was a set of homemade cards her grandmother (who volunteers in my class each week) made, and a large bag of candy that looked like a bag of M&Ms. I thanked her profusely and left the bag sitting on my desk. Throughout that week a few more gifts trickled in that I added to the collection on my desk.
Then on Wednesday of just this last week, I got a craving for a little something sweet, and remembered the bag of candy from Cathy. I excitedly went back to my room and peeked in the gift bag. There was the set of homemade cards, but no bag of candy. Hmmmm. Did I take that bag home? I was certain I hadn't. What happened to the bag of candy? Did someone really steal a bag of candy out of a gift bag off of my desk? Was it a student? That week I was out for the second part of the day on Monday and Tuesday, so did a sub take it? The night custodian? I was flummoxed, to say the least.
I sent an email to the other 5th grade teacher telling that someone had stolen a bag of candy from me that I had gotten as a gift. She was appalled, and replied that one of the 4th grade teachers last year had had a gift stolen. A fourth grade teacher? Could that student now have moved to fifth grade in my class and is still stealing? I sent an email to the fourth grade teacher to see who had stolen from her. It had been Jack.
You may remember Jack. He is the one who lied to me about selling 20 items during the PTA fundraiser just to get 20 free Silly Bands. I sent an email to my husband telling him that someone had stolen from me, and replied to just lay on the Mommy Guilt, which he said, rightly so, that I am good at. So I did.
After their lunch was over, I told the class that up till now, I have been bragging about this class, and what a wonderful, kind bunch of kids I have. I laid it on thick. Then I told them that someone stole a bag of candy that Cathy had given me. Someone had stolen it right out of a gift bag off my desk. I told the students how hurt I was that one of MY students would do that to me. I ended the guilt trip by saying that I hoped whomever had stolen from me would feel so much guilt that either the candy would be returned, or that s/he wouldn't be able to truly enjoy the candy, knowing it was stolen candy. I let them know how sad and hurt I was.
I then pulled Jack out in the hall for a private chat. "Jack," I said. "Did you steal my candy?" He emphatically said no, but I don't really trust him. I told him that he has made bad decisions in the past with stealing candy from Mrs. Fourth Grade Teacher last year, and then lying about the Silly Bands to me this year. "You haven't shown yourself to be a responsible, reliable student because of the choices you have made. If you really didn't steal from me, I'm glad, but you had better work hard at changing your reputation." I still think he did it.
The next day I got to school and checked my email. There was an email from Sandra, who never does anything wrong. In fact, this month I chose her for the Responsibility award. Anyway, in her email she first reminded me that I had forgotten to include the spelling assignment on my homework page, and she was concerned that some kids would forget to do it because it wasn't there, and they'd get into trouble. Then she went on to say how very sorry she was that someone stole candy from me, and that she hoped it would be returned soon. She said she hoped I'd still be able to brag about our class, because it made her feel good to think that I brag about them. Finally, she ended the email saying that I was the best, coolest, and PRETTIEST teacher she has ever had!
I think both Sandra and I were feeling guilt now.
But I am the prettiest teacher she's ever had? Really? I thought my days of being called pretty by a student were long gone...But I had to know who had her in fourth grade, so I could rub it in. I went to the staff room where the fourth grade teachers, among others, were eating lunch. "OK," I said. "Who had Sandra B. last year?" They thought, and then said the name of a teacher who is no longer here. "Oh," I said, disappointed. But the another teacher spoke up.
"I had Sandra for third grade," she said. Hmmm. Really? This particular teacher is fairly young. She just got married, and is only in her third or fourth year of teaching. So I gently broke the news to her. "Well, I want you to know that Sandra said I am the prettiest teacher she's ever had. I'm sorry for you, but I'm quite excited, since I'm nearly twice your age!"
Basically, the ones who feel the guilt are usually the ones that don't do wrong anyway.
Then on Wednesday of just this last week, I got a craving for a little something sweet, and remembered the bag of candy from Cathy. I excitedly went back to my room and peeked in the gift bag. There was the set of homemade cards, but no bag of candy. Hmmmm. Did I take that bag home? I was certain I hadn't. What happened to the bag of candy? Did someone really steal a bag of candy out of a gift bag off of my desk? Was it a student? That week I was out for the second part of the day on Monday and Tuesday, so did a sub take it? The night custodian? I was flummoxed, to say the least.
I sent an email to the other 5th grade teacher telling that someone had stolen a bag of candy from me that I had gotten as a gift. She was appalled, and replied that one of the 4th grade teachers last year had had a gift stolen. A fourth grade teacher? Could that student now have moved to fifth grade in my class and is still stealing? I sent an email to the fourth grade teacher to see who had stolen from her. It had been Jack.
You may remember Jack. He is the one who lied to me about selling 20 items during the PTA fundraiser just to get 20 free Silly Bands. I sent an email to my husband telling him that someone had stolen from me, and replied to just lay on the Mommy Guilt, which he said, rightly so, that I am good at. So I did.
After their lunch was over, I told the class that up till now, I have been bragging about this class, and what a wonderful, kind bunch of kids I have. I laid it on thick. Then I told them that someone stole a bag of candy that Cathy had given me. Someone had stolen it right out of a gift bag off my desk. I told the students how hurt I was that one of MY students would do that to me. I ended the guilt trip by saying that I hoped whomever had stolen from me would feel so much guilt that either the candy would be returned, or that s/he wouldn't be able to truly enjoy the candy, knowing it was stolen candy. I let them know how sad and hurt I was.
I then pulled Jack out in the hall for a private chat. "Jack," I said. "Did you steal my candy?" He emphatically said no, but I don't really trust him. I told him that he has made bad decisions in the past with stealing candy from Mrs. Fourth Grade Teacher last year, and then lying about the Silly Bands to me this year. "You haven't shown yourself to be a responsible, reliable student because of the choices you have made. If you really didn't steal from me, I'm glad, but you had better work hard at changing your reputation." I still think he did it.
The next day I got to school and checked my email. There was an email from Sandra, who never does anything wrong. In fact, this month I chose her for the Responsibility award. Anyway, in her email she first reminded me that I had forgotten to include the spelling assignment on my homework page, and she was concerned that some kids would forget to do it because it wasn't there, and they'd get into trouble. Then she went on to say how very sorry she was that someone stole candy from me, and that she hoped it would be returned soon. She said she hoped I'd still be able to brag about our class, because it made her feel good to think that I brag about them. Finally, she ended the email saying that I was the best, coolest, and PRETTIEST teacher she has ever had!
I think both Sandra and I were feeling guilt now.
But I am the prettiest teacher she's ever had? Really? I thought my days of being called pretty by a student were long gone...But I had to know who had her in fourth grade, so I could rub it in. I went to the staff room where the fourth grade teachers, among others, were eating lunch. "OK," I said. "Who had Sandra B. last year?" They thought, and then said the name of a teacher who is no longer here. "Oh," I said, disappointed. But the another teacher spoke up.
"I had Sandra for third grade," she said. Hmmm. Really? This particular teacher is fairly young. She just got married, and is only in her third or fourth year of teaching. So I gently broke the news to her. "Well, I want you to know that Sandra said I am the prettiest teacher she's ever had. I'm sorry for you, but I'm quite excited, since I'm nearly twice your age!"
Basically, the ones who feel the guilt are usually the ones that don't do wrong anyway.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Fam-i-ly
The other day I was going from my classroom to the teacher workroom during my break to cut some paper for a project. My classroom is in the "5th/6th bay," which is a separate building from the rest of the school (I try not to take it personally). To go to the workroom, the office, pe, or anywhere, I must cross the playground to the main group of buildings.
So I was crossing the playground with my paper to cut in hand. Now, our school campus is surrounded by a chain link fence. In the morning when the kids arrive to school, a gate in the fence is open for them to walk through, but during the day, it is chained shut. As I passed this gate, I saw a small boy pulling the gate in as far as the chain would allow,and was trying to squeeze through the narrow opening.
"Hey!" I called out. "What are you doing? You can't be there!" He stopped and turned around. "You need to go out onto the playground," I continued. He turned and began to walk towards the playground, but then he just leaned against a wall and burst into tears. I walked over.
"What's the matter? Why are you crying?" I asked.
"I don't have a friend," he sobbed.
"How come?" I asked. He just cried. So I took his little hand. "You come with me," I said. "I'm going to find someone to talk with you. But first, I have to cut some paper, so you'll just have to come with me." He obediently came with me without complaint, still holding my hand.
I continued to talk to him as we entered the teacher work room. There was one parent in there. "Are you a new student?" I asked. I wondered if he had just started at our school and hadn't yet made a good friend. But no, he said he had been at our school since the first day. "Who is your teacher?" I asked. He replied that it one of the kindergarten teachers. So the plot thickened.
I asked him why he didn't have a friend, and he said he had one earlier but didn't know where he had gone. "So I was going to go home because I miss my family," he said, pronouncing it fam-i-ly, and beginning to cry all over again. The other mom in the room and I looked at each other and gave one of those "Aaaaah..." looks that moms give. I walked him to the office.
Once there, I waited until Mr. Principal was free. Then I told him that this little boy had tried to go home because he couldn't find a friend and missed his family. He thanked me, and took over.
Those little kids are so cute! I couldn't teach them, but I sure enjoy them!
So I was crossing the playground with my paper to cut in hand. Now, our school campus is surrounded by a chain link fence. In the morning when the kids arrive to school, a gate in the fence is open for them to walk through, but during the day, it is chained shut. As I passed this gate, I saw a small boy pulling the gate in as far as the chain would allow,and was trying to squeeze through the narrow opening.
"Hey!" I called out. "What are you doing? You can't be there!" He stopped and turned around. "You need to go out onto the playground," I continued. He turned and began to walk towards the playground, but then he just leaned against a wall and burst into tears. I walked over.
"What's the matter? Why are you crying?" I asked.
"I don't have a friend," he sobbed.
"How come?" I asked. He just cried. So I took his little hand. "You come with me," I said. "I'm going to find someone to talk with you. But first, I have to cut some paper, so you'll just have to come with me." He obediently came with me without complaint, still holding my hand.
I continued to talk to him as we entered the teacher work room. There was one parent in there. "Are you a new student?" I asked. I wondered if he had just started at our school and hadn't yet made a good friend. But no, he said he had been at our school since the first day. "Who is your teacher?" I asked. He replied that it one of the kindergarten teachers. So the plot thickened.
I asked him why he didn't have a friend, and he said he had one earlier but didn't know where he had gone. "So I was going to go home because I miss my family," he said, pronouncing it fam-i-ly, and beginning to cry all over again. The other mom in the room and I looked at each other and gave one of those "Aaaaah..." looks that moms give. I walked him to the office.
Once there, I waited until Mr. Principal was free. Then I told him that this little boy had tried to go home because he couldn't find a friend and missed his family. He thanked me, and took over.
Those little kids are so cute! I couldn't teach them, but I sure enjoy them!
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
A Life Sentence
I use a certain brand of deoderant, and a while ago I found a scent that I really like. It's called "pure cashmere." Doesn't that sound great? It smells wonderful, too. Very fresh. Not perfumey.
But I've discovered that it's very difficult to find in stores. I always look for it. If I'm lucky enough to find my scent, I buy as many as they have on the shelf. Therefore, I've smelt great for quite some time.
But my stash began to dwindle, and I wasn't finding replacements. Then the other day I wondered if Drugstore.com would have any. So I went there, and sure enough, they showed that they had my "pure cashmere" scent. I was so excited. I ordered ten of them! I figured I was set for life.
Today they came. I eagerly opened the box. I pulled out a deoderant stick, and opened the lid. And sniffed. But it didn't smell great. It smelled perfumey. I looked again at the container, and it said "Smooth Perfection," but I couldn't see "Pure Cashmere" anywhere on the label. Did I order the wrong thing? I wondered. I looked at the packing slip and it said "Smooth Perfection." Oh, geez. I thought. I did screw it up.
I went to the computer to find my shipping notice. I'm good at saving all of my shipping notices until I actually get the product. The shipping notice definitely said "Pure Cashmere." I looked again at a label. It said "Smooth Perfection" in large bold letters. In smaller letters, at the bottom, it said "Pure Cashmere." Hmmm.
I went upstairs and got the stick of deoderant I was using right now. I decided what I needed to do was a sniff test. I took my deoderant downstairs. I got one of the new sticks of deoderant. I opened both sticks. I sniffed my current one. Mmmm...fresh scent! Then I sniffed the new one. Yuk. Perfume.
And with 10 sticks, this is how I'll smell for the rest of my life.
But I've discovered that it's very difficult to find in stores. I always look for it. If I'm lucky enough to find my scent, I buy as many as they have on the shelf. Therefore, I've smelt great for quite some time.
But my stash began to dwindle, and I wasn't finding replacements. Then the other day I wondered if Drugstore.com would have any. So I went there, and sure enough, they showed that they had my "pure cashmere" scent. I was so excited. I ordered ten of them! I figured I was set for life.
Today they came. I eagerly opened the box. I pulled out a deoderant stick, and opened the lid. And sniffed. But it didn't smell great. It smelled perfumey. I looked again at the container, and it said "Smooth Perfection," but I couldn't see "Pure Cashmere" anywhere on the label. Did I order the wrong thing? I wondered. I looked at the packing slip and it said "Smooth Perfection." Oh, geez. I thought. I did screw it up.
I went to the computer to find my shipping notice. I'm good at saving all of my shipping notices until I actually get the product. The shipping notice definitely said "Pure Cashmere." I looked again at a label. It said "Smooth Perfection" in large bold letters. In smaller letters, at the bottom, it said "Pure Cashmere." Hmmm.
I went upstairs and got the stick of deoderant I was using right now. I decided what I needed to do was a sniff test. I took my deoderant downstairs. I got one of the new sticks of deoderant. I opened both sticks. I sniffed my current one. Mmmm...fresh scent! Then I sniffed the new one. Yuk. Perfume.
And with 10 sticks, this is how I'll smell for the rest of my life.
In the Eye of the Beholder
This morning, as the kids came into the room, Jack grins at me as he walked past. "I've got something for you," he said.
Now, over the past couple of weeks he has been giving me little wrapped candy canes. That's what I thought he brought for me again. It's sweet, really, as yesterday I really "chewed" him out (pun intended) for eating sunflower seeds in the room. I made him empty his pockets and throw everthing away.
So I'm at my desk, and he proudly comes over. He hands me a store-bought cookie. Unwrapped. In his hand.
"Jack!" I exclaimed. "You brought me a cookie? You've been holding it in your hand all morning, just waiting to give it to me?"
"Yup!" he answered, proudly.
I gave him a big hug. "That's the nicest thing anyone has done for me today!"
Later, I threw the cookie away. Blah.
Now, over the past couple of weeks he has been giving me little wrapped candy canes. That's what I thought he brought for me again. It's sweet, really, as yesterday I really "chewed" him out (pun intended) for eating sunflower seeds in the room. I made him empty his pockets and throw everthing away.
So I'm at my desk, and he proudly comes over. He hands me a store-bought cookie. Unwrapped. In his hand.
"Jack!" I exclaimed. "You brought me a cookie? You've been holding it in your hand all morning, just waiting to give it to me?"
"Yup!" he answered, proudly.
I gave him a big hug. "That's the nicest thing anyone has done for me today!"
Later, I threw the cookie away. Blah.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Be a Parent, Please
Jack is one of my students. He's difficult. I am not sure if he has a learning disability or an emotional disability, but whichever it is, he does not do well academically because of it. He will simply refuse to do work in a passive-aggressive way. He and I had several bouts of this at the beginning of the year, but then it seemed he wouldn't do this with me any longer. I'm pretty firm with kids. But he would do this with subs and with para-educators if he was pulled out in a small group for math or reading. There was one week where he pulled this with three different adults. That week I sent an email to our pricipal, asking him to talk seriously with Jack, since I was appalled that he would defy an adults' request like that.
Anyway, at conference time I talked with his mom extensively about this behavior. She said he is also this way at home, and he is her only child that acts this way. Lucky for her, too, since she is pregnant with her ninth child...That's right. 9. But she really had no advice for me, not that I expected any. Last year's teacher told my that if she had to really scare Jack about something, she'd have him call Dad, not Mom. Mom did say that if I ever needed her to just come get him, she would. But the reality of that is is that Jack then doesn't get his education he needs, but gets the attention from mom. And when you consider he is currently one of eight (soon to be nine) kids, her probably craves that attention. His mom even told me she has considered home schooling him. Really? With 50 toddlers at home and soon a new-born? I don't think so. Jack's mom also said that her husband told her not to worry about him, that he wasn't a good student in school but he eventually came around, and that they should just get Jack into sports. I told mom to tell dad that if he can't pass his state tests in school, he won't be ABLE to participate in any sports...
Anyway, November in school is pretty much a lost month due to a full conference week of half-days, and then right after that we were hit with a snow storm that closed school for two days right up to Thanksgiving vacation. Last Monday was the beginning of our normal schedule for three weeks leading up to the next big kahuna of breaks: Winter break.
Jack came in Monday morning and settled down. We have math first thing in the morning, and he was very attentive, even raising his hand and participating. I was very pleased with him and told him so. The same thing happened on Tuesday. Raised his hand. Participated. Did his work. Focused. I liked this new Jack.
It went that way for math the whole week long. Then Friday came. When my students came in from music, I had their math homework on the board with the correct answers so that they could correct their own work. The kids got busy immediately, either correcting their work or quickly finishing (or copying) their work that they didn't get done the night before. I glanced over at Jack, and he is just sitting there at his desk, doing nothing.
"Jack," I said. "Why aren't you correcting your homework?" He just looked at me. "Jack, take out your Homework and Remembering math book and let me see it." He did as I asked. I flipped the workbook open to Thursday night's homework pages, which were not done what so ever.
"Jack," I said. "You didn't do your homework last night." I flipped back through the other pages that have been assigned since beginning unit three. All homework pages were not done. He has not been doing any of the homework. "Jack," I said. "Why haven't you been doing any of your homework?" He covers his face with his hands and arms and remains silent. I crouch down level with him at his desk. "Jack," I say. "I want you to do last night's homework right now. We'll talk later about all of the homework you haven't done." I stand up to walk away. Jack stays in his upright-fetal position.
I crouch back down to be at his level as he sat at his desk. "Jack," I said quietly and patiently. "You have two choices. You can do your homework from last night right now, or I will write you up on a white slip for not following my directions, and I will send you to talk with Mr. Principal." Still, he just sat there with his face hidden. "All right, Jack. You made your choice."
I chose a dependable student who had finished correcting her work to escort Jack to the office. I made sure Jack took his pencil and math workbook with him. I then sent an email to my principal, explaing in detail why I was sending Jack to the office. "If you can't see him right now," I added in my email, "just send him back and call for him later." But Jack didn't return.
In fact, Jack was at the office all morning long. He came back just as it was time for recess. He handed me the copies of his white slip which showed that he had worked in the office on his math, had had a discussion with the principal, and that his parents needed to sign the slip.
But I went a step further and emailed the parents. I explained everything that happened, including that he had not been doing his homeowork for the last six math lessons. I concluded in my email that I wanted them to check to see that his homework gets completed every night. I asked that they make sure they check my website where I always show the night's homework, and that they initial each homework math page when it is finished.
Time for them to step up and be parents, not just breeders.
Anyway, at conference time I talked with his mom extensively about this behavior. She said he is also this way at home, and he is her only child that acts this way. Lucky for her, too, since she is pregnant with her ninth child...That's right. 9. But she really had no advice for me, not that I expected any. Last year's teacher told my that if she had to really scare Jack about something, she'd have him call Dad, not Mom. Mom did say that if I ever needed her to just come get him, she would. But the reality of that is is that Jack then doesn't get his education he needs, but gets the attention from mom. And when you consider he is currently one of eight (soon to be nine) kids, her probably craves that attention. His mom even told me she has considered home schooling him. Really? With 50 toddlers at home and soon a new-born? I don't think so. Jack's mom also said that her husband told her not to worry about him, that he wasn't a good student in school but he eventually came around, and that they should just get Jack into sports. I told mom to tell dad that if he can't pass his state tests in school, he won't be ABLE to participate in any sports...
Anyway, November in school is pretty much a lost month due to a full conference week of half-days, and then right after that we were hit with a snow storm that closed school for two days right up to Thanksgiving vacation. Last Monday was the beginning of our normal schedule for three weeks leading up to the next big kahuna of breaks: Winter break.
Jack came in Monday morning and settled down. We have math first thing in the morning, and he was very attentive, even raising his hand and participating. I was very pleased with him and told him so. The same thing happened on Tuesday. Raised his hand. Participated. Did his work. Focused. I liked this new Jack.
It went that way for math the whole week long. Then Friday came. When my students came in from music, I had their math homework on the board with the correct answers so that they could correct their own work. The kids got busy immediately, either correcting their work or quickly finishing (or copying) their work that they didn't get done the night before. I glanced over at Jack, and he is just sitting there at his desk, doing nothing.
"Jack," I said. "Why aren't you correcting your homework?" He just looked at me. "Jack, take out your Homework and Remembering math book and let me see it." He did as I asked. I flipped the workbook open to Thursday night's homework pages, which were not done what so ever.
"Jack," I said. "You didn't do your homework last night." I flipped back through the other pages that have been assigned since beginning unit three. All homework pages were not done. He has not been doing any of the homework. "Jack," I said. "Why haven't you been doing any of your homework?" He covers his face with his hands and arms and remains silent. I crouch down level with him at his desk. "Jack," I say. "I want you to do last night's homework right now. We'll talk later about all of the homework you haven't done." I stand up to walk away. Jack stays in his upright-fetal position.
I crouch back down to be at his level as he sat at his desk. "Jack," I said quietly and patiently. "You have two choices. You can do your homework from last night right now, or I will write you up on a white slip for not following my directions, and I will send you to talk with Mr. Principal." Still, he just sat there with his face hidden. "All right, Jack. You made your choice."
I chose a dependable student who had finished correcting her work to escort Jack to the office. I made sure Jack took his pencil and math workbook with him. I then sent an email to my principal, explaing in detail why I was sending Jack to the office. "If you can't see him right now," I added in my email, "just send him back and call for him later." But Jack didn't return.
In fact, Jack was at the office all morning long. He came back just as it was time for recess. He handed me the copies of his white slip which showed that he had worked in the office on his math, had had a discussion with the principal, and that his parents needed to sign the slip.
But I went a step further and emailed the parents. I explained everything that happened, including that he had not been doing his homeowork for the last six math lessons. I concluded in my email that I wanted them to check to see that his homework gets completed every night. I asked that they make sure they check my website where I always show the night's homework, and that they initial each homework math page when it is finished.
Time for them to step up and be parents, not just breeders.
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