A Bit Too Honest

Today our music teacher came into my classroom to explain that one of her beaver puppets had been taken during music time yesterday. She didn't know if it was my class and was talking to all the classes. She politely and kindly told the kids how disappointed she was in it being lost, how the game was ruined without it, and if they had any information to let her know or the teacher. Before she could leave the room this conversation happened.

Student: (who shall remain nameless although he has been mentioned in most of the entries from this year and I suspect will continue, all year, to find his antics written about) I didn't take it, you know. Last year I had a bad habit. I was a stealer. I stole a lot of stuff last year. But, I've given up that habit. I haven't stolen anything this year .... at least not anything of importance.

Music Teacher: (because I had turned around and was laughing hysterically, yet silently) Well, [student] you shouldn't steal at all.

Student: I know that is why I have given up that habit. But, I bet someone else has stolen my bad habit and is now a stealer. Yep, I bet that is what happened.

My guess? That beaver puppet didn't look so important and is now at [student's] home, tucked under his bed until it will be dragged out and consumed by the family dog. Poor Mr. Beaver.

Of Mice and Boys

A couple days ago a dear friend of mine blogged about her son putting on boots that had been in the garage. He wore them for about 45 minutes when they were removed and a dead, rotting mouse was discovered in the inside. What made him take them off after 45 minutes? The maggots crawling around his toes. UGHHHH! But, seriously, can you let that story just remain on the screen without sharing it? NO WAY! I had to share it with my class. 2nd Graders love a good disgusting tale every once in a while, especially during the Halloween season. That led to this discussion that I thought just as great.

Student: "Mrs. Grant, we thought we had one mouse in our fridge once."

Me: (caught by surprise) "In the fridge? You mean like the refrigerator?"

Student: (as serious as can be) "Yes, in the fridge." He gestured with his head as he spoke those words.

Me: "UGGHH" "GASP"

Student: "But, when my dad moved a whole bunch of stuff around in the fridge we didn't have one. We had four mice in the fridge."

Me: (nearly vomiting the pineapple upside down yogurt I'd eaten for lunch) "Did you eat them?"

Student: "Well, no. We threw them away."

Just one of those things you gotta remember. His mother would die if she knew he had told me. That makes the story even better.

The Big Return

Going back to school after Potato Harvest is so much harder than starting the year. All the excitement of the new year is over. I already know what I'm facing and what problems have to be dealt with. But, I have to reteach all the class management stuff. I hate that. Why can the students remember the unimportant things like when free-time is, and signing up for lunch, and what time school ends, but they can't remember to raise their hands or don't talk when someone else is talking? I find that interesting.

It has been a good two weeks and I've been working on psyching myself up to meet "the student." I was already for him. I decided that I can deal with him for seven hours a day. I'll be okay. Then what happened? He had to go and move into my subdivision. I can't let him know I live here. Now I won't be able to go outside until June - when school ends. I hope he hates "'Trick or Treating!"

Wah wah wah!!

My first full week can be summed up in one word - respect (or the lack of it). Where has the respect gone. My classroom rules are three: Respect yourself; Respect others; Respect the school. But, so may children don't know what that word means. In my room I have one such student. He and I are going to be miserable all year long if something doesn't change. He needs to learn "R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Find out what it means to me" (thanks Aretha) and I've got to start enjoying his presence. How is this going to happen? When is this going to happen? Who knows! Stay tuned. I'm sure I'll be blogging lots. I can't keep this all boiled up inside. As Junie B. Jones says, "My brains will squish out." Thank goodness for this blog.

P.S. My Kindergarten teacher friend is expelling three students next week. THEY ARE IN KINDERGARTEN!!! What is happening?

The First Day

So, no matter how long I stayed awake and tried to avoid it, the first day arrived. Despite my nerves and jitters, I tried to look smart, and authoritative, and MEAN. I even tried to convince the students that I was the "meanest teacher in the school." They just laughed at me. We handled the first day pretty well. Only two students fell asleep. One student fell asleep while putting his head down during recess for failure to follow the rules. (It was the first day, for heaven's sake, and he was in for his 2nd recess of the day.) When the students came back in we just let him sleep - it was MUCH quieter then and I was actually able to get a word in.

No one could have anticipated the chaos that occurred after school. I'm still trying to figure out why 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th graders can't remember what bus they rode on all last year, who their bus driver was/is, or their address (a landmark would be helpful). They have lived at the same location for years. Why can't they remember? Once we got all the older students on the bus then the real chaos began. All the Kindergartners, who have NEVER ridden a bus, and the 1st graders arrive from their temporary school on the bus. They hop off those buses at our school and then had to find a new bus that will take them to the junior high where they will hop off this middle bus only to find the final bus that will deliver them, hopefully, to their homes. You've got to be kidding me! A 5 year old cannot find one bus, let alone 3 buses. That situation must be remedied SOON!!!!

The first day is always crazy. I'm waiting for tomorrow and counting on it being better.

A New Beginning

So, where did Summer go? It seems we just got out but tomorrow, for some reason, we are starting again. Today I spent hours staring at a blank lesson plan book and wondering what I was going to fill it with. I can't seem to remember what to do on the first day. What do I teach? What do the little whipper snappers look like? Are my tables too high? Are the chairs too big? Should I have gone with desks instead of tables? Can they reach the top cubby? How do I make the rules of my classroom, of which there are only three, sound exciting and pleasing? Are they going to cry? Will it feel like the nursery at church when they are all crying and wanting their moms? Do 2nd graders cry? Why can't I remember the answer to all these questions.

I guess it comes down to this: I'm just as nervous for the first day of school as the students. I found a great book called First Day Jitters that talks about a person's first day at school and how she doesn't want to get out of bed, or get dress, or eat breakfast, or brush her teeth, or hurry to the car. At the end of the book the reader discovers that the story has been about the teacher. I feel that way this year. I'll share that with them. Whew! 10 minutes down. 390 minutes to fill. I'm in big trouble. Wish me luck!

School's Out for Summer

There are two feelings when school is out. Everyone feels them both - joy and sadness. As the end of the year approaches the students voice their opinions of school more loudly and more often. They hate school. They don't want to come to school. They never want to go to school again. I've heard this for several weeks. Of course, my feelings are close to the same. I hate dragging the students to do their work. I hate issuing all the tests that have to be done. And I don't necessarily want to come to school anymore either.

But, on the last day of school, everything changes. The student who told me he hated me yesterday won't stop holding my hand today. The students who hated 2nd grade last week, never want to leave and ask if they can stay in 2nd grade for one more year. And all those kids who didn't want to wake up for school today ask if they can come tomorrow - even though there isn't any school.

As a teacher I worry about all those students through the summer. Will there be someone to give them a hug everyday and tell them how great they are? Is there someone to push them when the going gets tough? Is there someone to pick them up when they fall? Will someone be there to fix them lunch? But, I have to let them go. That's my job. I love them all - even the one that caused migraines. Boy the end is tough.

Picket Line

Thursday I had to take a pen away from a student. He had been playing with it all day and when I finally took it away from him he was furious. First he cried for a few minutes, then he pouted, and finally he glared. If this had been my first year teaching I probably would have returned the pen to him. Not now, man. I'm a hard-hearted veteran. When he wouldn't work I told him that he not only wouldn't get his pen back but he would also get a 0% on his tests. Instead of getting to work he wrote on the back of the paper, in cute bold letters, "Geve me back my pen and then I'll work." He held the sign up in the air so that it faced me wherever I went in the room. I walked casually back to him, pointed to the word "geve" and said, "Please correct that word." He did and proceeded to picket. I proceeded to give him a 0% and still have his pen in my "June" box - it holds all confiscated toys until the last day of school.

Lesson: Don't mess with the teacher - she's got the upper hand.

Put It to Me Gently

I've always assumed that the students in my class think that I'm old. This year's students were born in 2000 and 2001. That's a different decade than my own children were born. Weird! Today, though, a student broke it to me so gently. I was kneeling next her while she was reading. As she turned her page she turned her head to look at me and then said, "Mrs. Grant, someone stuck a gray hair in your head." How rude! Whoever did that shoud feel terrible. TEE HEE

Boogers, Anyone?

When I started teaching, a few years ago, I felt that our lunch should be called "brunch" because we ate so early - 11:05. Each year the second grade has been pushed later and later until we now go to lunch at 11:35. That is fairly reasonable, considering that on Fridays the kids go home at 1:15 and can eat there. But, for my kids, lunch might as well be tomorrow. They have a real hard time waiting that long. During first recess they are always telling me how hungry they are. I always tell them something like, "We just had breakfast," or "Lunch will be here in one hour," or "Work hard and you'll forget about your hunger pangs." Just a side note here, for too many of the kids, lunch is the first meal they get, if not their only meal, of the day. So, when Andy (name has been changed to protect the innocent) said that he was hungry I gave him one of my usual responses. I had no idea how hungry he was. I soon found out.

Andy is in my small guided reading group. As we began reading he began picking, and I'm not talking about picking his favorite book. I tried to ignore it for a while but I couldn't. Since he was sitting next to me I gently reached over and pulled his arm down. Within seconds the finger found its way back up to that nose. This time I quietly leaned over and whispered, "Stop picking your nose, please." He quickly pulled out. But, again, he went back to the action. This time, less quietly and less kindly, because I find it disgusting and I'm sick of all the germs, I said, "Keep your finger out of your nose. It is gross!" He put his book down, looked me in the eye and said as matter-of-factly (is that a word?) as he could, "Mrs. Grant, I'm hungry." Eat away, I guess. I may have to find a filling, yet cheap, snack tomorrow.

Does it need a tourniquet?

Our school has had a rash of terrible injuries as of late. Well, at least terrible in the eyes of grade school kids they seem terrible. These injuries include bruised egos when trying to show off to friends; small bumps while walking in the hall; life-threatening hang nails; and paper cuts. I guess winter has been around too long and the kids can't think of anything else to do but worry about these injuries. It's a good thing that our secretary has an abundant supply of bandages and patience. She is amazing. I, however, do not have either. My motto is, "If it ain't spurting blood, don't ask for a bandage." Ok, that is a little harsh and I'm kinder than that.

Today, however, the first-aid kit was stolen from the office. So, when Jaden exclaimed in a panicked voice, "My thumb is bleedin', " I took a quick look and declared it ok. I didn't have a bandage to fix it with anyway. Seriously it was a meer flesh wound that wasn't even bleeding. Yes, a small bit of skin had been removed somehow but it wasn't bleeding. I then said, "When you begin to feel faint from loss of blood, let me know." I continued. Jaden got up, got a tissue, sat down, held his thumb, and worried. Finally, in exasperation he cried (without being called on), "There's no blood left in my thumb." What? There hasn't even been a drop yet. So I asked this poor concerned boy, "How do you know?" His reply, "There's no more blue lines in it!" I took him aside and we had a little talk about blood vessels, small cuts, etc. He felt better after that and it was quickly forgotten. HEALED!!!!

A Spelling Miracle

Misspelled words drive me crazy. Now, I can understand simple typing errors but that is about the limit of my tolerance. I teach spelling. I try to teach rules that will help kids to think through the sounds in a word and made logical guesses. That is what the English language requires - logical guesses. The rules continually change. I take that into account as I help these sweet kids. I begin to get frustrated when the same words keep appearing in spelling lists and the students continually spell them incorrectly.

A case in point is the word "they." Students learn it in 1st grade and review it at least every other week in 2nd grade. We even have a little song about it - "There is no A in they. There is no A in they. Just write the then add y. It's as easy as huckleberry pie. There is no A in they." But still, it doesn't come out right.

A couple years ago I had a student that stuggled with many words including "they." But, he loved the Pittsburg Steelers. And his favorite player? Of course, Ben Roethlisberger. His journal was filled with bits of Steeler news. His spelling was pretty bad, all except Roethlisberger. It was always correct.

I guess you spell what is important to you. And if you find any spelling errors-mere typing mistakes.

Candid Conversations

Besides my almost daily interactions with the "German" mother, I have conversations with my students. Recently I was talking to a student about Junie B. Jones books (which I love). We were looking at the titles of a few and came upon the book called Junie B. Jones and some Sneaky Peaky Spying. This student turned to me and said, "My dad is teaching me how to be a spy." My interest was peaked and I said, "What kinds of things does he teach you?" He told me about listening to people's conversations and peeking through windows. Then he said, "In order to be a good spy, sometimes you have to be really quiet when you peek in other people's houses." Very interesting. Do you ever wonder if you should report these things and to whom would you report it to? Then he popped up with, "You have to do that when you want to know if they are talking about you." OK. Good to know.

A couple days ago, a flock of students were gathered around my desk before school started. One said, "Last night a got a huge zit on my back. It really hurt. My mom had to pop it. It popped all over." Oh, thank you very much. That began a largely grotesque conversation about acne, its causes, and people with it. But, I did learn something new. Do you know what acne is called when its on your back? It's not called acne. It's called "backne." Good to know.

Is that German?

I just want to remember this story in case I decide to write a book.

I have a student that really struggles with reading. Her mom called in early during the year and asked what the problem might be. The conversation continued like this.

Mom: Do you think that she might struggle with reading because we only speak German at home?
Me: Ugh. Yeah. Maybe. Does she read in English?
Mom: Well, she tries. But she sees the word in English but translates it in her head and says it in German. Should we stop speaking German?
Me: No. I wouldn't recommend that. Children who speak two or more languages really have an advantage over other students. It can be a real asset. I wouldn't quit. However, she should read in English. That will help her in school.
Mom: Well, we are just going to stop. We won't do it anymore. I was a foreign exchange student in Germany and so I speak it fluently and so that is what we all speak at home. But, I think we will just stop.
Me: That is a decision you need to make. She just needs to read in English.

So, the next day, thinking that it is way cool that she speaks German, I have this conversation.

Me: I hear that you speak German.
Student: Umm. Yeah. I guess so.
Me: That's cool. Can you count to ten for me?
Student: Yeah. But I can only go to six. (Intersting since they "only speak German at home".)
Me: That's ok. Go ahead.
Student: Uno. Dos. Tres. Quatro. Cinco. Ses.
Me: That's Spanish.
Student: Oh!
Me: Can you say mom? Dad? Brother? Sister?
Student: No. No. No. I forgot.

So, I drop the whole conversation and chalk it up to a mother that might be a little unusual. And I'm a lot suspicious. A few minutes after school I get a call from the mom.

Mom: "Student" is telling me stories. She says that you asked her to speak German today.
Me: Yes. I thought it would be interesting to hear a different language. I often ask the Spanish speaking students to tell me words in their language. It is always fun to hear. The students like it too.
Mom: Well, I thought we agreed that "student" wouldn't speak German anymore.
Me: I said that was a decision you had to make. I didn't think that was a good idea.
Mom: What did you ask her to say?
Me: I asked her to count to 10.
Mom: What did she say?
Me: She said that she could only go to six.
Mom: What did she say?
Me: She said, "Uno. Dos. Tres. Quatro. Cinco. Ses."
Mom: (Long pause) That's Spanish.
Me: I know that's Spanish!
Mom: Isn't it amazing what they forget once they walk out the door.
Me: WHATEVER!!!!

Ok. Many other conversations involving German, asthma, and other things have gone on. Most of it I am highly suspect of. I wish I weren't. But, this was the beginning of a very unusual parenting situation. It may all be true. I highly doubt it.

Back at It

Ok. Today didn't start out so good. No heaters in the school - below zero outside. Burrrrrr inside. But, true to form, most of the kids didn't notice. Until, they tried to write. Then they realized their fingers were so cold that they couldn't hold a pencil. I declare that we will not write until the heaters are working. Got that Mr. Fix-it dudes. That'll show them.

I have one student that always asks, "Can I take a drink?" And, I, being the smart-alek that I usually am, say, "Take it where?" She never gets it. She just looks at me like I've gone crazy. Language barriers can provide some humor. Usually not, but sometimes.

Under Construction

I can't write anything because we are still out for vacation. Something good should happen next week. Come again.