Career Day, part 2

In my last blog, I wrote about the wonderful experience of career day. However, something even more meaningful happened on that day: I got, "whoop-whooped." It's not every day that I get a "whoop-whoop." It left me feeling appreciated, liked, and respected.

One of the speakers was an assistant principal at a community college high school (a high school where students can earn dual credit towards a diploma and college coursework). He spoke in an auditorium filled with 4th and 5th graders. The main thrust of his speech was to get kids thinking about college. He asked them such open-ended questions like: "What does college look like?" and "What kind of people go to a college?". He presented these questions to the students and some volunteered their answers.

He complimented the students on their answers, but then put the call out for grown-ups (mainly us, faculty members) to come up to the mic and volunteer their opinions on his questions. I am not a public speaker. So, I sulked down into my chair. He picked one of my female colleagues, Ms. Teacher, to go up front. He asked her what kind of things you could learn about in college. She talked about what her major had been and talked about some of the other majors available. He asked her what college looked like and she talked about how her college was a small college, but how other colleges were huge.

When he was done with her, he then asked for a male teacher's thoughts. I slunk further. My fellow colleague, Mr. Teacher, was not at this particular assembly so I knew the odds were not in my favor. Since the auditorium was filled with 5th graders (most of them my students from last year) and 4th graders (most of my students from this year), things did not look good. There were 2 or 3 other male teachers in the auditorium, but there sphere of influence was minimal. They were bilingual teachers and only had one section of students for the current year and previous year. I had 5 sections last year and 5 sections this year.

Sure enough, I heard someone shout out, "Mr. Cater!" Then, someone else chimed in my name. Then, all collective eyes in the auditorium were on me. There was nowhere to hide. I succumbed and got up out of my seat and started walking to the front. That is when the "Whoop, whoops" started. I felt like Arsenio Hall. Kids started clapping.

It was a good feeling.

I felt....well......

"Liked."

Who doesn't like to feel that way? It was an ego-booster for sure.

The assistant principal (who looked and sounded a lot like Ray Romano) then asked me his college question: "What kind of people go to college?" I then proceeded to answer that people of all ages and races went to college. I went further into it than that, of course, but that was basically it. The kids had probably tuned me out the second I said, "People of all ......"

But, who really cares if they tuned me out or not?

I got "whoop whooped"!

Career Day

Happy December to my loyal readers (hi mom). I managed a big goose egg for blogs in November so I have vowed to at least write 3 or more for December. So, to begin... lets talk about November!

We had career day at my campus several weeks ago in November. It is always an interesting event to me for many different reasons. For one, I enjoy watching the children (4th graders, mind you) listen intently to the financial planner talk about his job. When my 4th graders ask such questions as: "At what age should I start considering putting away for my retirement?" and.. "Could you explain the intricacies of a Roth I.R.A?" I just swell with pride. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, more interesting to me than to watch my children participate and learn about the complex world of saving for retirement (while I yawn in the back of the room). Truthfully, I feel sorry for the financial planner. Next year, he has to say "NO" to this gig. High School: Maybe. Elementary School: N-O! He would have better luck talking to a brick wall.

Second, I enjoy the pilot. I always had interest in being a pilot as a kid. You can tell that this guy (this is his 2nd year) enjoys coming and talking to the kids. He talks about the importance of math, science, social studies, and reading and how they are all required skills for piloting an airplane (somehow I always knew that the Battle of the Alamo had something to do with the unfortunate incident with Payne Stewart's plane). I even learned something myself! Did you know that jet fuel is just basically a very high grade of kerosene? I honestly didn't know that. Yeah, it is a bit of useless knowledge. But, who cares? I always loved learning about planes. Guess I still do.

Third, there was the puppet show from hell. A librarian from the nearby branch came and talked to the kids about being a librarian. She did it with puppets, which seems like a foolproof method. But, then I remember one of my favorite all-time bad movies: Howard the Duck. When Howard the Duck wasn't a midget in a duck suit, it was a puppet at times too. Presentation is everything. If the puppet is supposed to be talking.... then the mouth should be moving (lesson #1 from puppeteering 101). If the puppeteer is talking, then the puppet's mouth should NOT be moving (lesson #2). And finally... the biggest faux paus in puppeteering: The puppet is there for entertainment and interaction with the audience. Its purpose is to get the kids engaged. I have a problem with the puppet whispering into the ear of the puppeteer because the puppet is "shy". Puppet, please! If the puppet is whispering into the puppeteer's ear, the students are smart enough to realize that nothing is coming out of the puppet's mouth. It's a cop out, plain and simple. By the way, does anyone else think that "puppet" is kind of a weird-sounding word? Read this paragraph over again out loud to yourself for verification on that!

Fourth, we had the "heroes" division: Police, Fire, and Military. Kids eat that stuff up. The Dallas Police Helicopter does a flyover and then lands on the playground. I absolutely love... err.. umm.. the kids really get a kick out of that. The helicopter sits powered down on the playground while the students walk by and look inside, talk to the pilot, and play with the tail rotor without permission. That's the embarrassing part. There's always a few in the group that want to play with the expensive machinery. I cringe every time I see a kid (usually not mine) playing with the tail rotor. I always wonder if I'm going to see that helicopter spinning out of control when it leaves a couple of hours later. Luckily it never does. Furthermore, we have the military represented as well. A guy from the "Young Marines" was there to do some "grunt" recruiting. I have to say though: the military is barking up the wrong tree at my school. Sorry to say it, but my fourth graders still don't have the concept of "right" and "left" securely stored away in their little brains. I don't know how many times I've had to say, "Your other left!" this year. I could see a comedy of errors erupting at the first "RIGHT FACE!!!" Last, but not least, we also have the firemen. We all know why they're there. They're the eye-candy. The females (professional and student) just have this glazed-over look in their dreamy eyes as they listen intently to Mr. Extinguisher talk about his job saving puppies and trapped babies. Hey, I can hold a hose and direct it at fire too. I just choose not to.

Anyway, Career Day was an enjoyable day for the students. They had the opportunity to learn about careers they're interested in (military, fire, police) and then they got to learn about careers to stay away from (librarian and financial planner). And, I got to learn more about helicopters and airplanes. It was just a win-win situation for all involved!

Looks Like We Have Another Floater...

Children puzzle me sometimes (the things they do, the way they act, the things that entertain them, the thrills they get off of unthrilling things, bathroom humor). Maybe its because I have a weak stomach or maybe I'm not hip anymore (I am going to be 38 in 3 more months...another sad realization I made today). Who knows?

It all started a little after lunch during our post-lunch bathroom break. There are 5 stalls in the boys bathroom and 5 in the girls. So, naturally I send in 5 at a time. I monitor the boys bathroom, and the girls pretty much take care of themselves (thank God). I will step in and out of the bathroom several times to facilitate maximum occupancy of the toilets while others are still washing their hands. But, enough of the unimportant details. Occasionally, while walking in and out, I tend to catch them in their little moments of err... um.. immature-ness (whether it be climbing up the stall doors, flicking water in someone's face, throwing a wad of paper somewhere it doesn't belong, or writing something on the wall). But, every year, this little "gem" always becomes an issue: The floater.

Yes, the floater... sitting in the water of the unflushed toilet bowl. It's like the 8th wonder of the world to these kids. Forget a trip to the museum to see relics from a lost era... in stall #3 we have a relic from last period!

I don't understand it. I don't own a cat for a reason. I can't clean out a litter box without vomiting... or at least gagging. There's a reason why I wear dark clothes when I walk my dog in the dark. When she poops in other peoples' yards, I can high-tail it out of there without having to clean it up. I can't use the inside-out baggie method. The poop is usually too squishy. Messes with my mind. Makes me want to throw up. Makes me want to gag. But, enough about my surreptitious dog walking techniques. Back to the floater.

The floater is a wondrous thing. Its like that tiny box in the Hellraiser movies. They are drawn to it. It has mysterious powers. There are even rumors that Adolf Hitler himself was in search of the perfect floater. It could annihilate an entire army. Umm.. err.. maybe that was the Ark of the Covenant, but I digress.

I have my secret ways of observing the boys in the bathroom without going in. The mirrors mainly.... Sometimes their reflections in the tile. Anyway, this is the "script". Happens this way pretty much all the time and the same way:

Boy walks into stall. Boy says, "Ewwwww!!!" Boy dashes out of stall and tells other boys. Other boys go observe floater in the stall of the offense. Other boys dash out one by one laughing and saying, "Ewwwww!!!" Some boys make repeat trips.... and come out with the same result, "Ewwww!!!" As boys filter out into the main hallway, they notify the other boys (who are still waiting in line to go in to the restroom) of the attraction in stall #3. Its like when you see your friends in line at the movies when you've just finished seeing the feature they're waiting to see. Or when you get off of a roller coaster at an amusement park and you see your friends waiting in line to ride the same ride. "It was awesome!!!"

They'll recall these stories of their youth in their later years.

Student #1: "Remember when we saw that poop floating in the toilet?"
Student #2: "Yeah."
Student #1: "That was awesome!"

But, I have to admit that it is quite humorous to see this event. I try not to laugh. Most of the times I don't. Sometimes a smile creeps out, but I pretty much keep a straight face. But as Triumph the Insult Comic Dog might say: It makes for a good blog-writing topic....... For me to POOP on!!

I Am A Golden God!

I give my students many opportunities to go up to the board or overhead projector in front of the class and demonstrate how they solve particular problems. Most of them get a kick out of it and enjoy showing me that they know how to solve a particular problem. Well, today I had a student demonstrating how they solved a "lattice-style" multiplication problem. When the student got to the point where she had to multiply 9 x 4, she put the wrong answer in the box. I politely interrupted her and asked if she was sure that 9 x 4 was 27... and if she wanted to go back and check. She started counting by 9's on her fingers and kept getting stuck. She would start all over again, and get stuck all over again. I decided to give her some help.

I asked her if she knew any shortcuts for figuring out her 9's, and she responded in the negative. So I told her to write the numbers 0 through 9 in a column. She did, and it looked like this:

0
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9

Next, I asked her to make a 2nd column right next to her first column and count down from 9 through 0. It looked like this:

09
18
27
36
45
54
63
72
81
90

Then, we went back to the 9 x 4 and I asked her to count to the 4th number down (36). And I said, "You're right! 9 x 4 = 36."

There was a collective gasp from the entire class. It was like I was practicing witchcraft or making the Statue of Liberty disappear. Every year, I show my kids this little "trick" and I never get the reception that I received today. At that moment, I knew my students saw me as more than just a mere mortal. I was a god today!

Now, if I could only magically make them learn the entire curriculum that way. :-)

We Interrupt This Scheduled Lesson For.....

Is there some kind of "hotline" for anonymously reporting P.A. system abuse? If there isn't, there should be. If such a "hotline" existed, my school would definitely be "red-flagged" by now. It seems like there is a freakin interrupt... err... um.. important announcement every damn minute. It is really unnerving (especially when I'm in a teaching groove, and my kids are in a learning groove). There has got to be a better way.

Whether they are:

• Looking for some AWOL teacher

"Ms. Black, please report to the office. Ms. Black, please
report to the office. You are needed immediately, Ms. Black. Ms.
Black, please report to the office. We are a go for Operation Black Hawk"

• Telling us stuff they should've told us in the weekly update newsletter

"Please have your students sign off on their free fair tickets for
elementary fair day."

or:
"The Fast Forword Lab will be closed today
and next week until further notice."

or:
"Duh, don't you read? The Fast
Forword Lab is open again."

• Telling us at 2:30 to send students down to the office or teacher workroom to get copies of "important" notes that must go home by the end of the day (when they should've had the copies ready first thing in the morning).
  

....They inevitably make the announcement longer than it should be and basically..... ruin the atmosphere of my classroom. If my students were engaged, you can sure bet they won't be engaged anymore. If they weren't engaged, you can sure bet they are even worse afterwords.

It is absolutely ridiculous. Maybe a script would help. Write it out before you ramble it out. One announcement in late September warned us faculty members about the approaching end of summer dress code, and that the men would now have to go back to neckties and the women would have to go back to hose. By the end of that convoluted exposition by my school leader, some of my 4th grade boys were convinced that they needed to show up with neckties the next week. The other 60% who have learned the important skill of "tuning out" were fine until they overheard me trying to "clear up the confusion" to the other 40%ers. After they overheard me trying to explain "no neckties" to the "confused" ones, their response was, "We have to wear neckties???"

It is truly a vicious cycle. Dominoes on the tumble. If one falls, they all fall.

And after all the confusion was finally cleared up, the dialogue kinda went like this....

40%ers: "By the way, Mr. Cater, what was that you were telling us about Left Angles?"

Mr. Cater: "I was talking about right angles. There is no such thing as a left angle."

60%ers: "There's a left angle? What does it look like?"

Mr. Cater: "It looks like a boot about to kick some ill-prepared elocutionist in the buttocks."

De de de de, De de de de, De de de de

As I've mentioned in other posts of mine, my district is really pushing the "Principles of Learning" approach to teaching. And, as I've also mentioned in other posts, I'm all for this new approach. If it truly benefits students (like I think it will) then I am for it 100%.

Of course, with all new approaches, there is a learning curve. You can't just implement all aspects at once. There are many pieces to the "Principles of Learning". One such piece is accountable talk. Accountable talk involves having the students become more responsible for their learning. In the process, they take ownership of the learning. When they answer questions in class, they are expected to give a valid reason (or proof) for how they came up with their answer. During the implementation of this facet, a habit of intellectual discourse develops. Hmmm.... I have to say that I was kind of skeptical about it too. But, the experience I've had the last couple of weeks is starting to sway my opinion.

During our staff development sessions over the summer, we were provided with a list of accountable talk stems. The stem that I have been experimenting with the last couple of weeks is the "I agree/disagree with ___________ because __________" stem. When I started to implement it in my class, I suddenly felt like I was transported to some sort of alternate dimension. A dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. Moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. Yep, I crossed over into... the Twilight Zone. De de de de, de de de de, de de de de, de de de de, Dummmmmmm dum dum dum dum.

Who were these kids that were talking so intellectually? Certainly not the ones that I was used to. I teach in a school where most of the population in in the low s.e.s. bracket, where most of the population is some kind of minority, where the population doesn't normally use the words "agree" and "disagree". It is totally amazing how they speak once you get them in that mode. Its not always easy to get them there, but thats mostly because of my old habits. I'm sure I'll get better. Anyway, not only does it make them sound more intellectual... the other students seem to be more focused or in tune to what their fellow student is saying so that they themselves can chime in with an agree or a disagree. Truly amazing.

For another interesting anecdote on accountable talk hop on over to Mister Teacher's blog at Learn Me Good and read his post titled "Accountable Counting". Pretty funny stuff!

Assembly Line Education

Ugh…Assembly-line education. I can’t stand it. It’s like the scene from "I Love Lucy" in which the chocolates are moving too fast on the conveyer belt for her and Ethel to wrap. I have a "middle-school" rotation in 4th grade. I have 5 classes and they rotate in and out every 60 minutes. My district is really on the "Principles of Learning" bandwagon (which I have no qualms about). However, the whole "Principles of Learning" philosophy is about educating at a more rigorous level, a more deeper level. How can I get deep in 60 minutes? Truthfully, its not even 60 minutes. These are 9 and 10-year-olds we’re talking about here. We have other issues from bathrooms to fevers to she won’t be my friend to he’s making fun of me to pencil sharpening. Heck, sometimes it takes a kid an eon to take out a sheet of paper and put their name on it! The issues are endless.

It has been suggested to me that the Science teacher could take 15 minutes out of her 1 hour science time to allow students to do "practice" work over stuff that I taught. However, I don’t really see a very good cost/benefit result here. Science instruction will suffer and I really won’t be able to effectively monitor and address misconceptions with immediate feedback. It would have to wait a day. Truth be told, there just isn’t enough time in the day. With every subject now facing the prospect of state testing, nothing can really be shortchanged. The problem is, that everything is shortchanged as a result.

A 2-teacher split is much better than a 5-teacher split. A 2-teacher split also gives rookies the opportunity to team-up and learn from a veteran. What if I decide to change schools next year? I take my 12 years experience and wisdom with me. I taught a state-tested subject my 2nd year as a teacher. I worked very closely with the "other" math teacher on my grade level. I learned a lot. It sped up the learning curve. I wouldn’t mind having the opportunity to "groom" a newbie. I’ve done it before.

When I used to teach 2 subjects (Math and Science), I had a 2 1/2-hour block and I always had the flexibility to spend more time on one subject if students were facing difficulties. Of course, the other subject would suffer. There were times when I would take away from Science time, because Math is a state tested subject at my grade level. Unfortunately, science is state tested at the next grade up. I want to prepare my students for that as well, but math scores are what ultimately ride on my shoulders. I enjoy teaching science as well. However, I would not enjoy teaching it if I was faced with 45 minute class time (because in 4th grade, that translates to about 30 minutes after all the B.S. mentioned above).

But…I don’t run things. I don’t rock the boat. I just do what I’m told to do. If someone asks my opinion, I’ll give it to them, but nobody ever asks. Such is the frustrating life of a teacher.

Next thing you know, they’ll want to start basing my salary on how well I cram stuff into 9 and 10-year-old heads in 60 minutes. Oh, wait… they’re already on that, aren’t they? I guess the truth will finally come out: I suck at teaching! Don’t send your kids to Mr. Ed. U. Cater! He sucks! Oh, wait… He’s the only freakin’ math teacher.

Anyway, that’s all I got. Just a little rant for cyberspace.

A New Kind of Teaching Position!

I've forgotten how much i HATE the beginning of the school year.

At the end of last school year , my kids left me for the summer as geniuses. ;-)

Now I receive a whole new batch of nose-picking, butt-scratching, thumb-sucking, pencil-tapping, chair-rocking, leg-swinging, rubber-necking, bladder-busting, mouth-moving, attention-fleeting, cheeto-eating, pencil-breaking, pencil-sharpening, paper-wasting, germ-carrying, name-on-paper-forgetting, water-drinking, "I don't get it"-saying, paper-popping, cologne-overdosing, selective-listening, Ritalin-needing, subtraction-forgetting, multiplication-fact-unknowing 3rd graders disguised as 4th graders.

-----whew!!

Last year's group of 4th graders (now 5th graders) was the bane of my existence. Yet as I pass them in the hallway, I long for their presence in my classroom. Am I going crazy? Please Elvie, come back... and bring your mischief with you! Hey, Jonah, bring your passive-aggressive defiance back on over to my room! Hi Elsie! I miss your very own special brand of cluelessness! Come be clueless in my classroom again! Please, I'm begging you! (She probably would, too).

At least I knew how to deal with those students. Now, I have a whole new group I need to figure out. What makes them tick? What makes them work? What makes them happy? What makes them mad? What makes them sad? What cafeteria meals make them gassy?

I told a colleague today that my new teaching dream job is: second semester 4th grade math and 1st semester 5th grade math. If I could teach my old students for the first semester in 5th grade and then hand them off to another teacher after the Christmas break, that would be wonderful! Then, I could move down to 4th grade and continue where their first-semester teacher left off. Then, the following year, I'd teach them the first semester in 5th grade! Sounds confusing.

During the first semester, the fourth graders are still babies, but by the second semester they grow into quite likable human beings. In the first semester of 5th grade, the students are still likable 4th graders, but they're gradually moving towards that nightmarish-pubescent-filled-hellish void known as middle school (middle-school teachers please pardon me---you guys are truly my heroes). By the time the second semester of 5th grade arrives, they are well on their way to the void. I myself would prefer to get off at the next stop.

Anyway, just a little aimless, wandering, rant of a blog today.

Early Retirement?

Ugh... It's days like this that make me wonder:

"Do I have the ability to do this for another 17 to 20 years???"

The first days of school are always hectic, true. First weeks are always hectic. But, it really is days like today, that make me want to go back to college and earn a second degree. Heck, I'd consider an associate's degree in auto mechanics (they probably make more money and they get to have tattoos). Seriously though, we can have tattoos. But, what would I get? A giant apple on my back? A multiplication chart on my ass? A place value chart wrapped around my bicep like a tribal band? (Maybe I could make it into the millions period if the print was small enough).

Seriously though, auto mechanics have it easy! Plus, if they don't have the parts, they can order them from Detroit and get them within the week. I can't rightfully tell Johnny's mother that he's missing the portion of his brain that controls logical reasoning and that I need her to sign a consent form so that I can order the replacement part from Dr. Frankenstein's lab (if it could only be that easy). Furthermore, they can always refer to the owner's manual for tire pressures, oil grades, and how to use the jack. If kids could just come with a manual that had their friggin' address on it I'd be happy. Seriously.... If you're 10 years old, you should know your home address. And if you don't, your parent should take the responsibility to staple that information onto your forehead.

Auto mechanics also only have to worry about engine cycles. No monthly cycles. What is it with being notified of those on the first day of school? This is the first time in my 12 years that this has been an "issue" on the first day of school. Sure, it happens during the middle of the year all the time. But, on the first day of school? I guess it was bound to happen. Its the hormones in the chicken, I know.

I do enjoy my job, don't get me wrong. I'm sure I'll grow to like a majority of these kids, and I'm sure they'll grow to like me as well. But when I'm 49, will I feel the same way? Will I have the energy? Will I have the stamina? Will I show up to work with my shirt tail sticking out of my trouser zipper? (inside joke). Will I show up with suspenders attached to my underwear? (another inside joke). Will I show up to work one day with mismatched shoes? (oops, already did that). Will my ties look ridiculously out of style? (NEVER!!)

Well, I really don't know what will happen then. All I can worry about is what happens tomorrow (and the rest of the school year). So, put your tray tables up and put your seats in their full upright position. Fasten your seatbelts because its gonna be another bumpy ride!

NO MORE WIRE HANGERS!!!

A wise principal once said, "It takes five positives to undo the damage caused by one negative." (Or, at least someone told me that’s what the wise principal said). Regardless, the logic seems true enough. It is kind of like the whole idea of how frowning causes facial wrinkles while smiling prevents them from occurring.

Anyway, I digress. Yesterday, our principal called a staff meeting for the purpose of going over final nuts and bolts type issues before the opening of school on Monday. We also traditionally have an apple-cider toast in plastic champagne glasses to kick off the "New Year" on a positive note.

Well, the meeting was to start at 1:00 in the cafeteria. I, along with 8 to 10 other co-workers, showed up at 1:00 (according to the clock in the cafeteria). According to my watch, we still had another minute or two. According to my cell phone, it was 1:00. According to a second clock in the cafeteria, it was about 10 after. Anyway, she had already started the meeting (before 1:00). This must be true since she was already in the middle of discussing something. If we were there at 1:00 on the dot, and she was already speaking, she must've started anywhere between 12:57 and 12:59.

At the door, there were sign-in sheets for attendance and about 8 handouts to pick-up. While we were signing in, and picking up our handouts, she decided to "call us out" in front of the rest of the staff.

Nice negative reaction, very nice. Reminds me of how some staff members last year would make bets before staff meetings on how many negative remarks the principal would make for the meeting on that day. If anyone was betting yesterday, they would've had a field day trying to tally up the multiple tirades that were about to occur.

I can't quote it, but it was along the lines of we're just gonna have to stop and wait for your fellow co-workers, who can't seem to show up to a meeting on time. All the while, mind you, she's screaming. Well, not screaming, but definitely talking in a very abrasive, condescending, belittling, gruff tone. One of the staff members actually spoke up for herself and said, "It's one o'clock now," pointing to the cafeteria clock. Of course, this led our principal into her be-in-your-seats-early-so-the-meeting-can-start-promptly tirade.

Anyway, I felt like an 8-year old.

It just so happens that earlier in the week, we had an interesting presentation on brain-based research. It was basically about creating "optimal" conditions for "optimal learning". Things discussed were: having brighter, homier classrooms; having music play strategically during various times of day; involving hands-on or kinesthetic movements throughout a lesson; and creating a hospitable non-threatening environment (to name a few). She should've taken a page from that lesson and handled our scolding differently because from the moment I felt like I was being chastised as if I were an 8-year old, to the moment we toasted to a "Happy New Year", I had tuned-out. I wrote non-productive notes to my fellow "guilty" co-workers instead. I got a few laughs out of it as well. I guess I had caught the "negative-virus" as well. I'm probably being negative now as well, but it’s therapeutic, so I'm excused.

The toast was anything but jovial for me. I drank the apple-cider like I was abusing a bottle of Jack Daniels, and I threw the plastic champagne glass into the trash can like I would've been smashing an empty bottle of Jack in a parking lot or burning fireplace. I walked out of that meeting fuming inside. Outside, I was fine. I can laugh about things. I can smile. I can joke. But, on the inside rest assured, I was fuming. There were about 2 more times after that meeting that I just let out frustrated "Argggghs" in my isolated hallway. The people that heard me knew why I was "Arrrrgh-ing". Almost 24 hours have passed now and I'm still pissed. But, I'm not so much pissed now at the belittling as I am at about how low I've sunk since Tuesday.

I was pretty optimistic at the beginning of the week. But, each day, I've managed to sink a little bit more each time. Of course this all comes on the heels of news from a friend who has moved to a new school this year and is absolutely loving the positive energy there. I'm happy for my friend, but it just makes me realize what I'm missing out on.

Say Cheese!

The schools in the D/FW Metroplex have recently been invaded by a new drug called Cheese. It's a mixture of black tar heroin and Tylenol PM, crushed up and snorted. Its cheap and over 20 teen deaths have been attributed to it since its invasion into this area. Strangely enough (according to articles I've read) the majority of deaths have been in the hispanic demographic. For some reason, this drug is really only prevalent in this area of the country. DEA has been working with local law enforcement in hopes of preventing the spread of this "fad" to other regions of the country. The Dallas Independent School District also started an "information" campaign to let kids know the dangers and to let parents know of the signs.

Some schools have also taken the initiative and had speakers (mainly law enforcement types) speak to students at assemblies to inform them of the dangers. And, this brings me to the main reason why I'm blogging on this particular issue.

The drug is starting to get some national news coverage now, and about a week or so ago CNN did a story on the drug. They had a camera crew go into a middle school which happens to be the school where my elementary school feeds into. So some of the kids at this school are my former pupils.

Anyway, the video was of an "informational" assembly conducted by a police officer on the dangers of drug usage and to warn students of this Cheese. Anyway, after asking students several questions in the "How many of you know someone that takes or sells drugs?" category, the officer went on to tell the students that, "The United States is the biggest consumer of illegal drugs in the world." What happened next, is just totally mindboggingly stupid and sick.

Applause and cheering!

Kids are really Stupid sometimes (with a capital S).

Some of these were my former students. But, really, what can I do? They come to me for one year, and then they leave. They come to school for about 7 hours each day, then they spend 17 hours elsewhere. And, of course that doesn't count weekends.

Anyway, its a sad, sad thing and I hate that I know some of these bozos. They are on the fast track to nowhere. Anyway, just a little rant on the futility of educating some of these kids.

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.

Roll Over Beethoven

The music teacher assigned my students to do some research on various composers the other day. I'm not sure how much of a project this actually was because I really haven't heard anything about it since Tuesday. But, what I heard Tuesday would definitely make any connoisseur of fine music cringe, and would surely make poor Ludwig turn over in his grave.

When I picked them up from their music class this Tuesday, they were in a rather cheery, singy (is that a word?), and jovial kind of mood. Some of the girls were singing a melody to some tune they had heard in their class that day. This is unusual because, sorry to say, most kids don't really like music class. I'm not sure if it's because they are embarrassed to sing...which I can understand, since I have a terrible voice. Or if they just think the overall concept is lame. I mean, why sing when you can crap? Did I say crap? I meant RAP.

Well anyway, the girls were singing and one of my boys, Dr. J. (the one from my 4/16 blog, "Apology Accepted") made an interesting comment. He said the song they were singing sounded like it was something by Beth Hoven.

I asked, "Beth who?"

He replied, "Hoven."

I once again asked for clarification, because I really wasn't comprehending what he was saying, "Who?"

His quizzical look (mentioned in my 4/16 blog) returned. His reply, with a little trepidation and a slight stutter (he was trying to get it right) was "Hu..hu..hoven."

Then, it finally hit me. Beethoven. Of course! I said, "Oh!!! You mean Beethoven?"

He replied, "Uh, yeah. Beethoven."

It was slightly funny, but slightly sad. He thought Beethoven was a girl named Beth! Maybe it was the wig. I mean, I knew who Beethoven was when I was in 4th grade (maybe even 1st grade). And this poor little guy, had no idea. Maybe its because I took piano lessons. I wonder if my peers knew who he was back then. Boy, maybe they didn't and I was just a nerd. Oh well.

Take Me Out To The Ballet

The other day, during recess, another teacher was playing baseball with the kids. It wasn’t an actual game or anything. Actually, it was more like just pitching and hitting…no base running. He would pitch the ball until someone hit it or struck out, and then it would be someone else’s turn.

After observing this little "interaction" between teacher and students, I came to the conclusion that baseball is a dying sport. Actually, I’ve had this opinion for a long time now. I haven’t been to a major league baseball game since probably around 1996, whatever year that was that the Texas Rangers made their first post-season appearance. I was already a little disillusioned from the strike that had occurred a couple of years before that, and my attendance to games had severely dipped. Sure, I followed it on TV somewhat (especially during the Mark McGuire/Sammy Sosa homerun derby year), but I never really got back into it. I suspect many other people (including dads, uncles, and grandfathers) didn’t get back into it as well, thus alienating it even further from a younger generation.

Anyway, back to my observations....

The kids were lined up to take a swing, and the first thing I noticed was that the first person in line to bat was not more than 2 or 3 feet away from the actual current batter. Last I heard, a baseball bat was longer than 2 feet. I would just cringe each time a pitch was made and the bat would swing. Surely, someone was going to get hit. The teacher pitching had to constantly keep telling the kids in line to back up. They absolutely had no concept of "batter's box". They might as well have been umpiring the pitches. Anyway, we can just chalk that up to over-anxiousness. Everybody is always dying to get their chance, and these kids were definitely hungry for a chance to hit the ball.

The most tell-tale sign though (that baseball is on its way out) was the at-bats. You could tell that some of these kids have never held a baseball bat in their lives. I’m talking N-E-V-E-R. Some kids were holding the bat with their left and right fingers intertwined. Oh my gosh! Back in my day, that would’ve branded you as a sissy! Only girls could get away with holding the bat like that (apologies to the ladies). And, by no means am I saying that these kids are sissies. Some are, but most of them aren’t. Yet, there they were, holding the bat in the most passively demure of ways.

The next noticable tell tale sign was the swinging pirouettes that I witnessed. Sorry (again) female readers, I don’t want to sound sexist because I’m not. But the swinging pirouette is so-o-o-o-o-o girly! For those of you who don't know, the swinging pirouette is when the batter takes a futile swing at the passing ball. Of course, the batter whiffs and then commences to spin on his foot (Newton's little known 4th law comes into play here--for every whiffed baseball, there is an equal and synonymous 1,080 degree spin). These kids would’ve had more success in a ballet class, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. They actually, in fact, probably have a better chance of becoming a dancer later on in life than becoming a world-famous soccer, football, or basketball star.

The last tell tale sign has got to be the influx of butterfly collectors into the baseball arena. Some people might consider butterfly collecting a demanding physical exercise that requires exceptional skill with a net, but don’t ever get that confused with baseball. Sure the baseball doesn’t flutter around directionless like a butterfly, but the butterfly doesn’t fly staight at you at speeds approaching 100 miles per hour (40 or 50 miles per hour in the case of these kids). Anyway, you’d think these kids were hunting butterflies. Swinging the bat with one hand while leaping gracefully into the air is not going to get you a base hit. Amazing. You might have some luck netting a buttefly in this manner, but you will not net a chance on base, that’s for sure.

So, to sum up.....

These kids suck! These kids are much better shooting a ball through a hoop, kicking a ball into a goal, and leaping into the air to catch a football while defenders are eagerly converging on them to make a hit. They are much better at these because they have the experience and the practice. They are in leagues for these sports, its obvious. But baseball? The kids have no concept. Don’t even get me started with the concept of bases. I have a strange suspicion that some of them wouldn’t know what to do or where to go if they actually had the sheer luck to connect on a pitch.

As for me......

I’m actually scheduled to see Rangers vs. Bosox next month with my dad, uncle, and brother. It will be my first MLB game in over 10 years. But, I’m not even really going for the game as much as I am going for the nostalgia of going to a game with my dad, brother, and uncle. Of course, beer and jumbo dogs come in a very close second. Actual interest in the players and the game: a distant third.

Apology Accepted

Its amazing what today's kids don't know. We spend so much time trying to ingrain the academic stuff, sometimes we forget about the social stuff. Actually, I'm not taking all the blame here, its the parents that neglect the social stuff. We, sometimes neglect to "fill in the blanks". Today there was an incident involving the use of the "N" word. And no, it was not nincompoop, ninny, or nitwit.

A sweet little (not to be confused with smart) hispanic girl from my 4th-grade class walked up to a somewhat likable (not to be confused with angelic) African-American boy today while we were lining up to come in from recess and said, "Hey, N**ga!". She, of course, used the modern day hip-hop pronunciation and not the circa 1800-1970's pronunciation. No doubt, she had been influenced by today's rap culture, MTV, Hollywood, and quite possibly fellow students, as well.

Anyway, the boy was somewhat offended, and I guess he had a right to be. I just wonder if it offends him when 50 Cent and Snoop Dogg use the word as well, but I digress. What was really strange (and the subject of this blog) is the way the boy didn't know how to accept the apology.

I called the girl out into the hallway for some clarification about the incident. I asked, "What did you say to Dr. J? He seems to be really upset about it." She replied back, with a hint of shame, the truth. I told her that it was not okay for her to use that word even if she had heard it on the radio, TV, or from her own friends (some of whom are African-American as well). I could tell that she kind of had some sense that it was wrong before she actually said it, because tears were flowing. If she really had no clue about the offense, she probably wouldn't have been tearing up like she was. I told her that I thought she should apologize to him and she agreed.

So, I called him out into the hallway and told him that Ms. Swoops had something she wanted to tell him. I looked at her to give her her cue and, looking down at the floor in shame, she said, "I'm sorry for calling you that."

And he said, with a straight face, "You're welcome."

I looked back at him with a quizzical look on my face, and I asked him what he had said, just by the off chance that maybe I had misheard him. He repeated, with a straight face, "You're welcome."

I asked him if he was sure that that was what he was, in fact, trying to say. Then it was he who had the quizzical look. He had absolutely no idea where I was going with my questions. I didn't want to make him feel weird or like he had done something wrong, so I just bluntly told him that when someone apologizes to you for something they did, you don't say that they're welcome. You tell them that you accept or don't accept their apology. I told him that he could shrug it off and say, "That's okay!" or "It's alright." I told him that the last thing you want to do, is tell them that they are welcome to do it again.

He said, "Oh, okay." and it was over. I'm sure he put that one in the "Information To Know" file in his brain. Well, actually I'm not so sure. But, he'll figure it out eventually. I just find it weird that he didn't know the proper words to use in this situation.

Today's kids are exposed to so much vulgarity, raunchiness, and inappropriateness, and they seem to learn how to apply that vulgarity and what-have-you to their daily interactions with peers. But, many don't have the slightest clue about proper social etiquette. Am I asking too much? I guess I should be glad that she at least agreed that she needed to apologize. But, then again, I had to suggest it.

EAT!!!

Sometimes I really like my job as a teacher. Its the funny little things that occur that just make it all worth it sometimes. I was not in a good mood today. I've been suffering from a cold all week and was on the brink of losing my voice.

Fortunately the voice stayed and today, I decided I was out of the woods... The worst was over. It was a pretty short and sweet virus, starting on Tuesday, and almost gone by today. Lately, the viruses...(virii? what's the plural anyway?) I've been getting have been long-lasting little buggers. Anyway, for the last 3 days my voice was practically gone. My "innocent" little 4th graders kind of took advantage of me because of my inability to raise my voice in certain "disciplinary" circumstances.

Well, today my voice was "somewhat" back. We are on a 4-class rotation and my last class came in a little "off the wall" so I let 'em have it, especially a select few of them. The rest of the students quickly fell into line like perfect little duckies. The minute one of the students started to stray, my "raised" voice did not fail me. I was a junkyard dog today, barking orders here, chastising there, reprimanding here. I was on a roll.

I gave them their assignment, and they began working like nice little 4th graders. Not more than 5 minutes had passed when a couple of 3rd graders came into my room with a cupcake and a juice box. It was one of their birthdays and mom had delivered too many cupcakes. Since they have kind of taken a "liking" to me they decided to bring me one of the extra cupcakes and juice box. Awwww.. ain't that sweet? That isn't even the funny part. Anyway, I said thanks and they went back to their class.

Now my class was still quiet, but they were not focused on the work that they had been working on just before the interruption. They were focused on me, the cupcake, and the juice box. I wiped a little of the frosting off the top of the cupcake because it was just too much. I'm not a big frosting fan, but I digress. I peeled the paper wrapping around the cupcake, and all eyes were trained on me. I don't know what they expected to see. Had they never seen a grown up eat a cupcake before?

Anyway, their assignment was just a distant memory as their wide eyes and gaped jaws stared at me as I took a bite of the cupcake. When I noticed they were all looking, I glared at them, and in my junkyard dog-disciplinary-raised-voice, I said, "EAT!!!"

Of course, I meant to say, "WORK!!!". I was the one that was eating. Anyway, I quickly corrected myself and said, "Work!", but it was too late. Someone was already snorting, I was already grinning, and no doubt my face was probably red as well.

For all you non-teachers out there...when the teacher smiles, the gig is up. That's all she wrote. Time to hang up the towels. Soon, everyone was laughing. There was one girl in tears, she thought it was so funny. And, yeah, it was.

That's the best thing about kids, even the rough exterior ones that don't have the best home lives. They really are just kids. And they really are for the most part, innocent. And they know something funny when they see it (even though they still may not be able to grasp the concept of perpendicular lines). It was a good, and much needed laugh. There is too much tension right now with TAKS test on the horizon next week. They went home on a good note, and so did I.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Every once in awhile, something happens that reminds me why I like this job of mine. And usually, 90% of the time, that reminder comes from a 10-year-old. Kids are really pretty simple and innocent when it comes right down to it (even the low-socioeconomic, minority children attending an urban district like mine). Not all, mind you, but most.

This past Friday was our last day of school before our highly-anticipated spring break. But, before we could get on with the day at hand, my class and I had to have an official ceremonial observance of St. Patrick's Day. The holiday, unfortunately for the kids, falls in the middle of spring break week (which is a big plus for this green-beer-drinking blogger, I might add). We had discussed the week prior that Friday, March 9th, would be our official "observance". Of course, I had slept since then and had no recollection of the discussion. But, kids: They may not remember the difference between finding the area of a rectangle and finding the perimeter of a rectangle, but they will remember the revised St. Patrick's Day observance date.

The very first thing in the morning, I had kids pinching each other and trying to pinch me. Thankfully, they were kind enough to give me a warning and some grace time to see if I could find anything green to attach to my body. I finally found a green overhead pen and made a few green marks on my hand to stop the pinching attempts. It was a nice little bonding moment with these kids.

I haven't had too many moments like that this year. I blame that on the ridiculous first-semester-1-hour block schedule that we had in place. It was assembly-line education. I didn't get to interact with these kids on anything more than a formal level. There wasn't any time for nonsensical stuff like an early St. Patrick's Day observance. If I deviated from my plans even just a little, the "brains" on the assembly line would pass me by without getting the "parts" that they needed, like in that famous "I Love Lucy" episode. I'd eventually end up shoving "brains" down the wayside or putting them in my pocket or down my shirt, like a zombie trying to horde his food for later consumption.

They are just kids. Sometimes it is so easy to lose sight of that when your so busy trying to cram all the stuff that they "need" to know inside those little heads in one hour's time. And sometimes, they need something other than what is written in the district's curriculum planning guide. Sometimes they just need to be kids.

What's in the air? (besides sleet & snow)

Today will definitely go down as the worst day ever in my teaching career. What was wrong with these kids today? It's like they've pulled a Lon Chaney Jr. on me (and they weren't all that good before the "werewolf syndrome"). These little elementary "angels" were anything-but angels today. First off, the overall talking level has just been completely overboard this week. Maybe one reason was: they were holed up in a classroom all day Tuesday taking a field test for TAKS. So, Wednesday and Thursday have been a release for them. It's almost like they think the test was the actual "biggie". They are so relieved that its all over and they think that they can relax now. Sorry, kiddos!

The real straw, however, was the last two periods of the day. One of my co-workers had to leave early for something today (can't remember what, but it was legitimate). The substitute cancels or is a no-show, and we can't get a teacher assistant to come cover her class. So, we split up her kids into the remaining class sections of our level. I got a bad mix. They pushed my buttons. It really is true what they say about how just 2 to 4 kids can really ruin the dynamics of a class. The class was working on these individual mini-projects and I just had too many kids getting out of their seats and talking to others in different parts of the room. And they weren't talking about what they were working on either. It was not "accountable talk" and it was not "socializing intelligence". It was just socializing. Socializing on a level I have not quite seen before. Kind of like the nuclear bomb of socializing. Busy little birds, these children were...and it couldn't be stopped. Until I yelled.

I'm not a yeller. It just strains the throat and they eventually learn to tune it out. I am very calm with the children. I always seem to have a good rapport with all my classes. It is a good balance of mentor, friend, funny uncle, and teacher. If a kid isn't doing what they are supposed to do and they've had several chances to respond to correction, I have a "firmer" voice that I use, but that volume is about as far as I've gone in a long time. Today, the decibel level I've grown accustomed to using with my kids was surpassed. I yelled. They got quiet. I reamed. They stayed quiet.

When I give a class reprimand, I always throw in the "and I know it's not all of you" line and the "if you're one of the ones that are making good choices, then thank you so much" line for the ones that are doing what they are supposed to do. Believe it or not, some students are "perfect" in that sense. They respond appropriately to an authority figure and they behave appropriately in class. They don't deserve to be hollered at. I make it a point to let them know that. Today I tried to let them know that too. Because, amidst all the chaos, you could see them trying to do their work, trying to not get involved in the hubbub, trying to be good. You could see them trying to keep their noses to the grindstone, while their eyes would occasionally scan the room to see the storm brewing. They knew a storm was brewing. I gritted my teeth and counted to ten in my head, but nothing could stop the vein that bulges in the middle of my forehead when I am stressed or angry. I'm so sorry they had to see that part of me. I've maybe had to yell like that three times in my eleven years as a teacher (and they were all in my first one or two years). Today was a new low for what has truly been a very stressful year.

Foot In Mouth Disease

Well, what a day today was. Just less than 48 hours ago, I blogged about administrators being clueless and out of the classroom too long; I blogged about them making unreasonable requests; and I blogged about them trying to justify their paychecks. I was on quite a roll (See WTF).

Well, today I'm teaching my little kiddos about improper fractions and mixed numbers; we're discussing numerators and denominators; and we're discussing my age (today also happens to be my birthday...and the little elementary student is always ever so curious about the age of their teacher). While we are on the subject of converting mixed numbers to improper fractions and vice versa, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of the backside of a very familiar looking head. Not only is it a familiar looking head, but it also happens to be "The Head" Superintendent of my very large school district (walking with a small entourage).

First thought in my head was, "Oh, shit..he's read my blog and he's here to fire me on my birthday, that heartless man." And usually, whenever a supe is at a school, there always seems to be TV news crews videographing his visit. So, naturally my next thought was, "Oh, shit..he's read my blog and he's here to fire me on my birthday for the 6 o'clock news, that heartless man." I tried to play it cool in front of my kids. He didn't even look in through my door, just kept on walking down the hallway, escorted by some tall guy with a bluetooth phone thingy in his ear (What was that guy's purpose anyway? Bodyguard? Secret Service? Offensive Coordinator?). So, I'm a bundle of nerves now. I'm calling improper fractions mixed numbers, whole numbers fractions and generally not making much sense.

It took awhile for me to finally get a grip and settle down. I thought maybe the dude was going to come around for a second pass, but he never did. Whew!! I'm just not good around big wigs. If I had to describe my overall persona and appearance around big wigs, I'd tell you to go rent "Weird Science" and watch the part where Chet gets turned into a pile of ..well, sh...err..poop. That's basically me around big wigs. They weird me out, to use a phrase not from my age group.

So, I guess I'm safe for now and my job is still intact. It would've been a shame, so early in my blogging career, to have to resort to blogging about working the register at the local Wal-Mart. Let me just give notice to all 9 of you readers out there: get a nice visual picture of my mug in your head, because by Sunday, I'll be deep, deep, deep undercover. Don't be surprised if you see an image of "Sponge Bob" in place of my face. And Mr. Supe, if you're reading this, that thing about you being heartless and all? Well, that was just a little poetic license for dramatic purposes. I'm sure you're not heartless at all (insert nervous laughter here).

5 Things About Me You May Not Know

Mister Teacher has "tagged" me and is making me tell whoever reads this 5 things they may not know about me. I think I'd rather write "I promise I will try to blog more," on the board 100 times. Anyway, here goes:

1. One night when I was about 2 years old growing up in deep south Texas, there was a banging on the back door of the house (which happened to be in my bedroom). The banging was accompanied by a voice that was demanding to be let in the house. My parents called the police. Turned out that the person trying to get in was then-Dallas Cowboy coach Tom Landry's senile mother who was having a bad episode of dementia.
   
   
2. In high school, I jury rigged the wipe wash hose of my 1978 Dodge Aspen to squirt a stream of water at high velocity out to the side of the car. I guess I got "Aspen" confused with "Aston Martin". I so badly wanted to be James Bond, I even considered putting lighter fluid in the resevoir instead of water (if only I could've found a way to keep a constant open flame by the spout). Anyway, I hosed down many unsuspecting targets this way. My cohorts and I became known as the "Squirt Squad" (so high school).
   
   
3. I like to compose music in my spare time. I was originally inspired by this girl I had the hots for in high school. She had a steady boyfriend, but I didn't care. She made my heart go pitter-pat. One night, we had a secret late-night rendezvous at the local Whataburger where we just sat and talked. If I ever make a "Top Ten Best Days of My Life" list, that night will definitely make the list. Nothing romantic really ever materialized, but the music will be with me forever.
   
   
4. I have a secret desire to write screenplays. I've never tried, but I've bought several books on techniques and style. Maybe one day, I'll do it. A fellow teacher and I got an idea for a movie while watching our kids play at recess last year. We decided our idea would make a good sequel to "Dodge Ball". It's called "Four Square: Globo-Gym Strikes Back". Hey, don't laugh! Four Square is an extremely demanding sport that requires skills in athleticism, deception, and "in-your-face-ism".
   
   
5. You pick the last one: I graduated high school #31 in a class of 400-ish. I received 3rd place in the best-looking car category for the "Pinewood Derby" when I was in Cub Scouts (back in my elementary school days). I was voted "Teacher of the Year" once at the first school I taught at. I won $500 playing bingo once while waiting for my girlfriend to get off work at the bingo parlor. I spent the night in the emergency room once for a kidney stone and had demerol-induced hallucinations which included boxes of Cheerios floating in mid-air.

WTF?

Today, I (along with an assortment of other teachers) was asked by my boss to come up with a list of predicted passers and failers of the big state standardized test coming up in the next few months. This request was made, of course, at the behest of his boss who probably feels the need to justify his paycheck. Who knows for sure?

However, this request is not very unusual or unreasonable. Predictions like that go on in my head on an almost daily basis. When I ask a student what 10 + 7 is, and they have to put it down on paper to find the answer, I file that student's name in a section of my brain called the "uh-oh" file. This is basically the file that contains the names of all students in danger of failing the state standardized exam. Of course, this process takes a fraction of a nanosecond to complete. It basically goes like this:

Me: "Student A, what is 10 + 7?"

student reaches for pencil and/or paper

FILING COMPLETE. Next student please.

I'm not judging that student. I'm just making a mental note to myself that this particular student may need some extra help during the year, whether it be tutoring or common-sense class. After 11 years of teaching, I can make pretty accurate predictions about who is going to pass and who is going to fail the test.

So, anyway, we were asked to compile a list of potential passers and failers by Friday. Not a big deal. But, then the real problem arose in the next request: not only did they want a list of predicted passers and failers, but they also wanted a list of predicted gains and losses per student. So, it basically goes like this:

• I look up the student's scale score from last year's test.
• I pull the student's scale score for this year's upcoming test out of my ass.
• If the score out of my ass is more than last year's, then its a gain.

Simple, right? You see, student A (who made a scale score of 1,990 on last year's test) is going to have a bout of diarrhea on test day this year. This, combined with his test anxiety and the fact that he will wake up 20 minutes late and miss breakfast, will decrease his scale score by 20 points. Who woulda figured?

This just goes to prove my point that the people in charge of the people in charge of the people in charge...shouldn't be in charge. How can someone make a request like that and keep a straight face? It basically goes like this:

• They don't have a clue.
• They haven't taught in several years.
• They hate me.

It's a plot, no doubt, concocted by the same evildoers who made me drive to school in the ice last week.