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I'm still not convinced anyone really reads my blog. I think they get here by accident, and leave quickly. I know someone got to my blog by putting the word "bifocals" into their search engine.

Interestingly enough, though, the one post that has had the most hits, whether it was read or not, is the post I entitled "Stalker." Are there that many people out there needing to google "stalker"?

The Obvious is Restated

Yesterday I let my students get their Behavior Reward. Of course, as usual, I had fun with spelling out the reward. As they showed good behavior, I added letters on the board until I had spelled out "Broccoli and Exams." I made a big deal about it when the whole thing was spelled out: "I really know what fifth graders like, don't I? You guys are so lucky...Congratulations on earning broccoli and exams.." Or, words to that affect. But yesterday morning I wrote in the letters that spelled "Brownies and Books." When the kids came in and saw the real reward, they were so excited. I, of course, pretended that that was the reward the whole time, and why on earth would I have written broccoli and exams? What kind of silly teacher would think that THAT was a treat that fifth graders would enjoy?

So the last 40 minutes of the day they got to eat brownies, sit anywhere in the room with friends, and read (although there was more chit chat going on than reading...). Here are some funny things that happened:

*I bought three containers of small brownies-32 brownies in each container. I have 27 kids. Two were absent, and two went home early. I knew that everyone could have at least three brownies. The kids took three each. I then quickly assessed that students could have a fourth brownie if they wished. Kids took a fourth, and there were only about 11 brownies left. They were just sitting on a desk near me, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was writing plans for the sub Monday since I'll be lobbying at our state capital on Monday.

Soon, it is time to get ready to go home. I'm still not really paying attention, and am organizing things for the sub as students get ready. Then I hear, "John, is that your sixth brownie?"

I look up then to see John, a somewhat heavyset boy, heading back to his seat, chewing. "John," I said. "How many brownies have you had?"

John looks down at the ground. "Five," he said.

"And how many did I say you could have?" I inquired further.

"Four," he replied.

"And so why did you take a fifth?" I asked.

"I couldn't help myself..." he replied.

*As kids took their brownies, they looked at me. "Where are the books," they asked. I looked over at my 6-7 bookshelves that are jam-packed full of books. "Geee," I replied, looking around. "I am not sure just where in this class you will find a book. But good luck..."

I thought that was a strange thing to ask me, but maybe some kids thought that since I provided brownies that I was also going to be bringing in all new books...Sort of like Oprah: "You all get new books! You get a book, and you get a book, and you get a book..." That would have been expensive...

*Isabelle came up to me after eating her brownies. "Mrs. Teacher," she said, "This is the best Friday we've had yet this year. Do you want to know why?" I asked her why. "Because," she said, "We started the day with an assembly, then instead of reading or writing we got to do science, and then..." Isabelle told me everything we had done that day, ending with the Brownies and Books Reward.

I knew what had happened that day. I was there. I planned it all. But it was cute anyway!

What's Your Sign?

What? I'm a Cancer? But I've been a Leo for 48 years. How can they do this to me? What are they doing to my sense of identity? I'm going to need years of therapy to deal with this.

Not Always a Cream Puff Job

When my older daughter was in kindergarten, she had a friend who's mom didn't work. The mom used to work at Microsoft, but as she was married to a lawyer, she quit work once she had her daughter. Her only child. So, once the kid started school, she had the whole day to herself. Let's see...she took ballet lessons, and she rode her horse that she leased. I'm not quite sure what else she did to fill the days. But I do remember once telling her about my job. At that time, I was working half-time, teaching an elementary gifted program. I saw kids twice a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and then worked half a day Wednesday without seeing kids. She told me I had a "cream puff job." This coming from a gal who hadn't worked out of the home in 6+ years? Anyway...

The job isn't always a cream puff job, even though I usually share the humorous things. But take Jack's little episode that occured the other day. Jack has a tendency to refuse to do what an adult says. He has pulled this on me in the past, but as I didn't let him get away with it, he really doesn't pull it with me anymore. He has refused a sub's direction, a para-educator's direction, and has refused to follow directions given to him by the music and/or pe teacher.

But the other day, he refused my directions. I walked by his desk during a work time during math. Jack was just sitting there. Not doing his work. "Jack," I said, "Get to work." He just sat. I stopped. "Jack," I said again. "I gave directions for completing your math. Get to work now."

Jack did as he usually does when he gets in trouble: he hunched down and pulled his jacket over his head to hide his face. I knelt down. "Jack," I said. "You have two choices. You can sit up and do your math, or I will write you a white slip, and you can work on your math in the office." He remained hidden. "Jack," I continued, aggravation beginning to slip into my voice, "Make a decision now." Jack began to cry.

"Jack, cut out the crying. You are in 5th grade. Now sit up and do your math. I am going to help some other students, and when I come back, I want to see some completed problems in your spiral." I walked to a student a few desks down who needed some help. While I was helping her, I began to hear Jack kicking his desk. I ignored him. Then from the corner of my eye I saw a movement come from his direction. I glanced up, didn't see him, and for a moment I thought he had ran out. But no. He was now hiding under his desk. This was a new one. I had never seen him do this, but apparently he did it a lot last year.

I got down again to his level, or almost, since he was under a desk. Through gritted teeth, I growled, "Get UP!" (When I told this to my daughter, she said that's exactly how I sound when I tell them to get up in the morning. But I digress...)

He did have enough sense to get up. "Come with me," I said, and went into the hall without looking back at him. Once in the hall, I turned to him. "Don't you ever kick a desk or even think of hiding underneath a desk AGAIN! This is not kindergarten, and that is not acceptable behavior for a 5th grader! The next time you do that, if you should have the bad judgement to choose to do it, I will send you to the office quicker that you will believe!" Or it was something like that. "Now," I continued. "You will go back into the room, and do your math."

We returned to the room. Jack sat at his desk. And Jack did his math. Later at lunchtime he gave me some of his candy.

Cream puff job? Oy, vey!

Kids Are Funny!

*I was going over the math homework with the kids. The lesson the day before had to do with creating a line graph. The homework had the kids take data and create their own line graph. The data provided had to do with number of kites sold at a kite store, and the data collection box was called "Kite Inventory." Together, we were creating the line graph so kids could compare it to what they had done for their homework. Finally, I asked the class, "What would be a good title for this graph? All graphs need to have a title."

Joe raised his hand. I called on Joe. He said, "Days Gone By, Kites Sail High!"

I burst out laughing; I couldn't help it. I wonder how long he thought about that one last night? "That's a great title, Joe, and it rhymes! I absolutely love it. I would have just called it something boring like 'Kite Inventory.'"

*The other day during lunch kids were discussing who was the oldest in our room. Rico raised his hand confidently that he was the oldest (that surprised me...I'll have to check records...). Anyway, I hear someone say, "No he's not. Mrs. Teacher is the oldest!"

I then spoke up. "Oh great," I said. "Rub it in!"

Cathy then speaks up. "I can't believe that you don't care if we know how old you are," she said. "I've never had a teacher tell us her age before."

I looked at her. "Oh, there's nothing wrong with being 29," I said. "I don't think that's too old."

Cathy said, "Aren't you 30 yet?"

"No, not yet," I replied.

Someone else in the room said, "Wow, you are younger than my mom! She's 31!"

I really think they'll believe that I'm 29 all year long!