Stay Free!

My students have this habit of leaving trash on the floor or not picking up after themselves. Their desks are kind of small, so sometimes they unknowingly knock things (paper, pencils, erasers, shavings, scraps, etc.) to the floor. I seem to be nagging them constantly about "checking their area". Today, I should have kept my mouth shut.

As I was pacing the room, monitoring work (yes, my students are still doing work with a week and a half left in the year), I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a fragment of something, paper, if you will, lying on the floor. It was lying next to Sabrina Duncan's desk. So naturally, without hesitation, and straight out of habit, I asked her, "Sabrina, is that trash on the floor yours? and if so, could you please pick it up?"

There was some hesitation for a couple of seconds and then she replied that it wasn't hers. I was going to ask her to pick it up and throw it away anyway when I heard Bosley, a boy that sits behind her, say under his breath, "Is that what I think it is?"

Then, I heard another boy, Charlie, respond, "That's a pad!"

Then, like all boys of that age, he started to giggle. Not more than a second later, Bosley started to giggle as well. I looked at the item in question, and yes, it appeared to be a pad in an unopened yellow wrapper. It was on the floor next to Sabrina, and it was obviously hers. It didn't just appear there.

Of course, she denied it again. The boys giggled more. I sat down at my desk, nodding my head side to side, with my forehead resting in hand. I had absolutely no idea how to handle the situation. I was dumbfounded and felt like Ward Cleaver. The boys saw me nodding side to side and started laughing at my dumbfoundedness. The dumbfoundedness was existing on many levels: I was dumbfounded on what to do, I was dumbfounded on why she just didn't quickly pick it up, and I was equally as dumbfounded to find out that 4th grade boys knew what a sanitary napkin package looked like. While still nodding, I looked up for a split second and made eye contact with one of the boys. Then I did what all people of my age do: I started to grin.

I fought it tooth and nail and saved face pretty quickly. How did I do it? Well, I suddenly had the urge to look up something very important on my computer screen. I looked away from my class, peering into the computer screen and not reading a thing. Only one thought was on my mind: At all costs, you must suppress the urge to laugh.

Well, seconds seemed like hours and the pad was still on the floor. Now Sabrina, the owner of the thing, started to giggle as well and continued to deny her involvement with the pad (giggling the whole time). Sabrina has a good friend, Kelly Garrett, that sits on the total opposite side of the room. The two girls are good friends and they talk incessantly when near each other (hence the opposite sides of the room arrangement). They are such good friends, that they can communicate with looks as well. So when I saw them "communicating" with each other out of the corner of my eye, I knew without a doubt, unequivocally, that the pad belonged to Sabrina. Kelly started to laugh as well, and even got up out of her chair to take a look at the pad lying on the floor by Sabrina's desk.

Laughter started creeping back up to my face. My mouth was twitching. I kept raising my eyebrows so that maybe it looked like I had a headache and I could put my hand up to my forehead and cover my face in the process. Luckily, like in all the Rocky movies, I was saved by the bell. Whew... Time to go to specials classes.

Sporadic giggles were popping up here and there. Students were coming to take a look at the neatly-packaged pad as they lined up to go to art. You would have thought we were in the Smithsonian!

I usually line them up in the classroom, but I had to get them out of there (too much rubbernecking). I had them move into the hall and line up there. Giggles were still going on in the hall, and I was trying my best to ignore the whole thing. Again, the urge to laugh crept up through my body, and I had to think of an excuse to go back into the room. Ahh! My pen! I forgot my pen! I walked into the room, chuckled, took a deep breath, and then went back out into the hallway.

I escorted my kids to the art teacher, dropped them off, and let out a deep sigh and a big grin. By the time they got back to my room, they had forgotten about the whole thing. How typical. Just like math.

Bittersweet Symphony

The results to the dreaded test arrived yesterday.

And, like always, the results were bittersweet. So many successes, and a couple of disappointments.

This school year has been very trying, and it was the first time in 11 years that I honestly didn't know what to expect from these kids. These kids were majority "new" to our student body because of attendance zone changes at the begining of the year (to accommodate for the opening of a new school). They were not the kids that I was used to. They were not kids that had been educated by my peers at the lower grade levels. They were giant question marks in the back of my head. Throughout the year they just seemed to be so inconsistent to me. I was definitely preparing myself for a letdown.

But, in the grand scheme of things, there was no letdown at all. They grew right before my eyes unlike I've ever seen before. Well.... not all of them, but a good lot of them. Of course, there are those that are classified as highs and medium highs: The growth with them isn't too noticable because they are already at a high level to start off the year. But, some of the lows!! They were the bane of my existence! I was pulling hair, chewing on fingernails, sucking my thumb (well, not really). But most of them showed extreme growth and I am so proud of them... and myself (to tell you the truth). No, they didn't all pass, which is sad, because the state will see them as failures. But, I don't. I see them as successes: Mostly latchkey kids in an urban district with one parent; born into circumstances beyond their control; dealt hands that most of us would fold with. In the end, they took what I had to offer and applied it.

They were lucky to have me!

Does that sound conceited or what?


Then...there was student "N". She is a good reading and writing student, but a struggler in math. Like some of the others, I was worried about her the whole year. I worked with her. I tutored her. I made her feel safe. Yet, she still failed the math portion of the test. I wasn't disappointed in her, because I know she tried. I really thought she would be able to pull through, but she didn't. She came up to me today (the day after they found out their scores) and asked me, "Are you mad at me?"

And I told her, "No, of course not, what for?"

And she replied, "Because I didn't pass the math test."

That broke my heart! I reassured her and told her that I was not mad and that I knew she had tried her best. In the end, all she was concerned about was me and my feelings. She is such a sweetheart! I'd take a million like that and have them fail every single test.

.....but then, I'd be out of a job.