tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23189610915168419042024-03-13T08:22:42.058-07:00"That's Not The Way We Usually Do It!"Stories from a woman who is spending her prime earning years working a thankless, sometimes horrible, sometimes wonderful, semi-professional job that pays less than she earned as a waitress in college.Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-86362162348154139032012-05-30T13:26:00.001-07:002012-05-30T13:29:18.278-07:00Check System<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Recently I had a job for a second grade teacher I regularly work for. She is SO professional that it is at the same time easy, and hard to work for her. Easy because everything is prepared and ready to go, but hard because she works so hard and expects the same from her sub. The kids in her class are great which is weird because the kids in the next room are horrid. I saw a list of all the kids that have been in the good class all year and she has had many that have come in, and then left. I think she diligently documents serious behavior problems and then somehow gets the worst of them removed and placed somewhere else. Mostly next door. <br />
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As far as discipline in the elementary grades is concerned, I have found that having my own system is easier and more effective than trying to learn and use the regular classroom teacher's method. Mostly because I don't know the regular plan, and also because it's different for me who is only there one day compared to the person that is there every day. This is what I do: when they come in the room in the morning I have a message on the board introducing myself, telling where their teacher is, and giving the broad strokes of what we will be doing that day. I also outline my behavior plan. It's the check system. I have a clipboard with me that has my lesson plans, any notes I need, seating chart and class list. If someone breaks the classroom rules (which are usually hanging up on a wall somewhere) they get a check next to their name on the class list. <br />
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*The first check is a warning. <br />
*Second check is a time-out in the hall. <br />
*If they get a third check they go in the hall, write a note home to mom or dad telling why they got three checks and their plan for correcting their behavior. That note goes home with them and gets signed and then brought back to school the next day to show the regular teacher.<br />
*Fourth check is a call home. Student calls mom or dad and explains that he/she got four checks, already spent time in the hall, already wrote a note home, and the next check they get will send them to the office for the rest of the day.<br />
*Fifth check they go to the office for the rest of the day.<br />
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I don't give a check for every single thing I could conceivably give a check for, but I pass them out where I think they will be the most effective. It eliminates any yelling, or full-class punishments which never work anyway. The kids are talking during quiet work time? I choose one kid and quietly say, "Brady, that's a check," and then magically the rest of the room quiets down. Sorry, Brady. But that keeps Brady from getting another check. Still not quiet? Choose another kid and give him a check. Pretty soon you can hear a pin drop. <br />
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I also tell them that when I see them do something especially good, I will give them a thank-you slip that they put into a bucket on the front table. During transitions I pass out thank-you slips to kids who get ready the fastest. If someone helps another kid with something, I give him/her a slip. At the end of the day we have a drawing and three or four kids names are drawn and they get a piece of candy. They love it. <br />
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This system has worked really well for me for years and I have never had to send a kid to the office until that second grade class I was talking about above. There was one kid in there who I'll call Rob who was having a TERRIBLE day. He got his first check for pushing a girl out of line and taking her spot in the pencil sharpening line. He got a second check for making his tablemate cry by telling him he was stupid because he couldn't figure out a math problem. He got his third check for slapping a girl in the arm. I could have given him a million other checks too for just generally being annoying. He argued with me about what the teacher wanted them to do for science, and argued with me about anything else he could possibly think of. <br />
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I sent him into the hall to write his note home and after about 15 minutes he came back in and sat at his spot. I asked for his note and he stared blankly at me. I said, "Did you write your note?" He shook his head. I said, "Go finish." He shook his head. I said, "You have three choices right now, 1) go back out and finish your note, 2)skip the note and wait in the hall for me to finish this (reading exercise) with the class and we'll just call mom right now, or 3) go to the office." He wouldn't budge. I waited about a minute, asked for his choice and he didn't move. He just stared at me. I said, "Office it is," and called the principle to come and get him. She came in and tried to talk him out of his seat, but he wouldn't budge. She then went and got an aide and they literally dragged him out like he was a protester being brought to jail by the police. I was at the same time extremely frustrated and annoyed that the kid was being so impossible, and I was also sad because my system seemed to have failed, but what else was I supposed to do? If this kid had his way, he would have been in charge and there would have been chaos. What do you think? </div>Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-76222114556744424562012-05-30T13:00:00.000-07:002012-05-30T13:00:31.292-07:00Band<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I subbed for a middle school band teacher last week. It was mostly a pretty good day. I've discovered this year that I LOVE subbing for music classes. I've always been intimidated by the conducting part of it, but I can just make a kid do it and all goes well (enough)!<br />
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The first hour was 7th grade band and they were WILD and LOUD but when they started playing they were fun to listen to. I asked a kid to direct who had an especially loud voice and when he came in to the room that morning, he played the piano brilliantly so I guessed he had some big talent and would know his way around the music, which he did, but there was another kid who I thought was his friend, who was endlessly needling him and would mess up just to make noise and give the kid a hard time. I think he was trying to be funny, but it wasn't even funny the first time he did it and after that it just got more and more and more annoying. Eventually he yelled out something about Bill Cosby to the kid-director and I didn't really get it, but I think it had something to do with the fact that the student-director was black. I told the yeller he crossed a line and to sit down and be quiet or go to the office, and he chose to sit down. Later the principle came in and asked me about it and I got the feeling he thought I should have reported it as harassment right then and there, but like I said, the kid was SUPER obnoxious and was trying to get a rise out of his friend and make his classmates laugh, and he failed miserably on both counts. I feel bad about it now because I think maybe I should have written the kid up right then. Little jerk. <br />
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Second hour was 8th grade band and although I'm not the biggest fan of 8th graders, these kids were fantastic. Again, I chose a student-director that seemed to have some musical know-how and a loud voice and let him have the reins. He was fabulous. The kids had recently gotten music for the high school song and were just starting to learn it. They were supposed to practice it and it sounded horrid. The kids were so cute because every single one of them was reading the music and blowing into their instruments with utter desperation, but it just sounded like they were tuning up. The student-director stopped them and very dryly said, "I think it's important that we play more of the notes right." I just about died laughing. <br />
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Throughout the day the kids came in for lessons and luckily I had a DVD that gave guided instruction for lessons and they all did really well. <br />
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Towards the end of the day I had General Music and was warned that there were a few extreme behavior problems. I appreciated the warning, but within a half a second of the first kid coming in, I could have figured it out myself. They were like posturing apes in a zoo. I couldn't even get them to sit down and finally I had to gong the gong and tell them that they got three strikes and then they were going to the office and "you, you, you and you all have one already." That at least got them seated. Then I told them their assignment for the day and passed out a few more strikes. They got relatively quiet and about 70% of the class was working diligently, but there were four boys who were decidedly more obnoxious than the others. Thankfully it wasn't too long before two of them had earned their third strike and I sent them to the office with discipline referrals. For a long time I was wary of doing that, but I don't know why. Now my go-to discipline method is to give them three strikes and they are out. How do you handle discipline as a sub?<br />
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Aside from General Music, it was a pretty fun day! </div>Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-27875890688645348662012-05-19T09:11:00.003-07:002012-05-19T09:11:13.358-07:00Kindergarten<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Months ago I agreed to sub for three days in kindergarten this week because<b> <a href="http://www.sowhatelseblog.com/2012/05/hey-future-me-up-yours.html">I like to screw over my future self</a></b>. It's over now and it wasn't so bad. Of course, nothing could be as bad as what I had envisioned. The kids are adorable, but part of what makes it so hard for me is that the girls are about a year and a half ahead of the boys maturity-wise. So kindergarten girls are like second grade boys. Second grade is fun. Kindergarten sucks.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Kindergarten boys are difficult for me. If something CAN be thrown, it's thrown, if someone bugs a kindergarten boy, that poor someone gets pushed down, slapped or pinched. If someone has a toy that boy wants, the toy will be ripped out of their hands. If that kindergarten boy gets confronted for throwing something that shouldn't be thrown, or hitting someone who bugged him, or taking something someone else was playing with, he cries. If that boy has something to say and I am talking, he will scream whatever it is that pops into his head whenever it happens to pop into his head. That, in a nutshell, is what makes kindergarten such a nightmare.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">And the parents. One mom dropped off her boy every day and then lingered. Endlessly lingered. The first day I was there she complained that some of the other boys were bothering him at lunch and could I make sure they don't do it anymore? Turns out her sweet little angel was the biggest trouble maker in the class. The boys were messing with his lunch because he was first messing with their lunches, as a sort of game. I kept my eye on this kid all week and he was ALWAYS doing something he wasn't supposed to do. If the kids were gathered on the rug, he was by the cubbies, digging in people's stuff. At playtime, he was in the bathroom squirting liquid soap all over the place, etc. etc. etc. What a BRAT.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The weather was gorgeous yesterday so I took them outside for a while. They were having a great time. One of the little girls came up to me laughing and told me that she and a few other kids were playing the BEST game! The boys were chasing the girls and putting them in jail.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Me: Oh, you're criminals?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Girl: YES!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Me: What crimes are you doing to get put into jail?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Girl: Because we're so PRETTY!!!!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Me: The boys are capturing you and putting you in jail for being <i>pretty</i>???</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Girl: Yes! And we catch them and put them in jail too!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Me: Because they are so pretty?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Girl: No silly! Because they are rich!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Me: Wow ............. That is<i> Fucked Up</i>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Just kidding, I didn't say that's fucked up but I was thinking it. A while later she came up to me and her hands were cuffed behind her back with a hair tie. She thought that was<i> brilliant. </i>Somewhere Betty Friedan was spinning in her grave.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There were, of course, some good things that happened during the week. Working with five-year-olds always boosts my ego. At playtime I went to the coloring station and drew pictures. I am TERRIBLE at drawing, always have been. They thought I was excellent, on par with the great masters. They lined up for me to draw a picture for them. If adults had their taste in art, I would be a rich and famous artist. Also, they think I am gorgeous. I was told how beautiful I am dozens of times. I was hugged hundreds of times. I was told I was the best sub they ever had every day.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">And they are funny. They made a "special person" poster about one of their classmates (apparently they do that for every kid) and I was to go around and get a quote about her from all the other kids. Most said, "She's pretty" or "She's nice" but there were a few that were oddly specific like, "She draws good daisies on the Smartboard." I asked one little boy, a rage-aholic, what he had to say about her, thinking he would refuse to say anything because he didn't string three words together all week unless he was having a tantrum. Without skipping a beat he said, "She loves me." I laughed and another kid said, "She really does," and I laughed some more. Crazy kids.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">One day I was getting impatient with the mama's-little-angel brat mentioned above when he was racing around tables when everyone else was sitting on the carpet waiting for a story. I said, "Please go to the carpet. I already told you that five times. I shouldn't have to tell you to do things more than once," and a bunch of kids piped up and said, "Hey! My mom says that to me all the time!" and "Yeah, my dad says that to me every day!"</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></div></div>Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-37217882100186093532012-05-11T11:13:00.000-07:002012-05-11T11:13:57.642-07:00Orchestra<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">What a fantastic day. I am subbing in one of the high school's for a music teacher. I tentatively took the job because I have shell shock from verging out of my comfort zone last week and getting totally screwed over by the Catholics, but I thought that nothing could be worse than that so I went ahead and took the music job. <br />
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I was tentative for a few reasons: <br />
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1) When I was in band in high school, whenever we had a sub we had a study hall, which was great when I was in high school, but probably not so great for the poor subs that had to babysit 60 kids in a study hall where nobody was studying. <br />
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2) Also, when I was in high school, in one of the aforementioned band study halls, my friends and I decided to play a hilarious joke on the sub. One of my friends was born without a right hand, (she played trumpet), and we thought it would be funny to have her stuff her stump in her mouth and tell the sub that we were having a contest to see who could stuff their fist the furthest into their mouths and she won, but now she couldn't get her fist out of her mouth! She's choking on her own fist! Oh my god! What are you going to do? The sub went into emergency mode and did everything she was supposed to do and when we saw that we laughed and laughed. Good times. <br />
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3) I can hardly read music anymore, much less a conductor copy of music I'm not familiar with, so I am hardly qualified to teach a music class; and why should they miss out on a day of practice because of my shortcomings? <br />
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I am so glad I took this job. For one thing, the kids are FANTASTIC. I really love kids sometimes. When they are focused and have a skill they want to show off, they are at their best. For another thing, the teacher must be pretty good too because things are going so smoothly. First hour was concert orchestra practice. Most of the kids are gone on a field trip, so there were only 12 kids, but they came in, got their instruments out and then a girl and a boy led the practice. They did great even though they were missing about 40 of their classmates. <br />
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The last class that was in here was symphony orchestra. They were<em><strong> so</strong></em> good. One of the senior boys took over the rehearsal, set an electric metronome, and they played through the list of the pieces the teacher wanted them to play through. They stopped at trouble spots, talked out the problems and tried again until they got it right. It was so great! I sat in the back and tried to keep from clapping like a doofus during every rest. <br />
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Now it is lunch time and a bunch of kids are eating in the room and visiting with each other, and a few others are playing piano and timpani together and it sounds wonderful. Again, I'm finding it hard to keep my cool and not running out there to clap every time they finish a song. This totally makes up for last Friday. I would have done today's job for free. </div>Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-54410007247084306682012-05-05T09:59:00.000-07:002012-05-05T09:59:10.634-07:00Hell on Earth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">I stupidly took a job at the Catholic middle school. It was stupid because A) they only pay about 2/3 what I could get anywhere else (believe it or not, my prime motivation for substitute teaching is the money.) B) They told me about two days before the job that it wouldn't be a full day, it would be a half day, and paid for a half day. C) The day before the job they told me there would only be two regular classes, the other THREE HOURS of the day would be an outdoor basketball tournament. D) my job during the basketball tournament would be bathroom monitor. By the time I got that email that told me all this, it was too late for me to cancel or else I would have.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">It was worse than I could have ever imagined. The first hour, however, wasn't bad at all. I was subbing for a math teacher and she was very organized, although over-prepared which I think teachers think is a good thing, but I don't have time in the 15 minutes from when I get to school and when the kids come to read multiple three-ring binders about all the minutia of how the class is run. I just need a list with times on it that tells me what you want me to do, seating charts, page numbers and worksheets. That's it. Oh, and maybe a post-it telling me if you have a crazy kid in your class and what to do with him when/if he loses his mind. Six inch thick binders I get; the thousand-times-more-helpful post-it, I never get. Anyway. The kids were very nice. They were helpful and polite and as good as you can ask seventh graders to be. The first hour was math class and we learned how to convert numbers of things to degrees to make a pie chart. It was pretty fun. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">Then it was time for the stupid tournament. At first I thought the Catholics were kind of cute because I read the info I was supposed to read to the kids and it said, "Boys report to Mr. O's room, and girls report to Mrs. L's room to change into your costumes," and I thought there would be some kind of play or skit or something, but it was referring to the basketball costumes. Gym clothes. (lol you silly Catholics!) The note to the teachers about the tournament logistics said,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">9:00 - 9:15 - kids change into costumes</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">9:15 - 9:30 - give kids directions for tournament</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">9:30 - 12:00 - have 12 seven-minute games</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">12:00 - 12:30 - have lunch with the kids outside</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">I've never been to this school before so I was in no way going to point out what I thought were the obvious flaws in the schedule because apparently they do this four times a year, but this is what I was thinking: No way does it take kids 15 minutes to change into gym clothes. It takes them about 3 minutes to do that. Then what do you do with the other 12 minutes? I'll tell you what they did: they all came back to my homeroom and hung out, which was fine, but I started having ominous thoughts right then about the schedule. Next we went down to the courts for the fifteen minute giving directions portion of the day. It was 40 degrees outside. That might be a warm winter day but it is a mother-effing cold spring day. I didn't look how long it took to give the directions, but it felt like 15 minutes. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">Then the first game started. I was told to stand on the outside stairs and keep the kids from going in the building. Basically it was my job to watch kids freeze to death and then deny them shelter. It told them they could go in the building, in the little space between the outside doors and the inner doors. I was then scolded by a teacher (who was inside the building) that the kids had to stay outside. You should have seen their little hands. Red, stiff, frozen solid. They were forced to change into their "basketball costumes" so they were all in shorts and t-shirts, with a sweatshirt or jacket. Not warm enough! I looked at my watch, thinking it must be </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">at least</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"> 10:00. It was 9:30. I couldn't believe it. It felt like a punch in the stomach. But being the</span><i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"> bitch-they-never-met-that-is-making-them-stay-outside-on-a-stupidly-cold-day</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"> really takes a lot out of a girl and time was going torturously slow. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">About six hours later, at 10:00, the teacher who told me I have to keep the kids outside said that the library was open for kids who wanted to warm up, but they had to be silent. Yeah, that's realistic. Was I supposed to enforce that too? No, </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">he</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"> stayed in the library with the warmth and the chairs. I had HAD it with standing outside in the freezing cold and figured I could just as easily shoo kids out of the building from the inside as I could the outside so I stepped in the inner doors and watched out the window. Then library-enforcer came out and told me I had to do my job from outside. What the <i>hell</i> is the difference? He said I should try to keep them from running in and out. Seriously? Has anyone taken into account that these are KIDS we were dealing with? Running in and out is WHAT THEY DO. I felt like they were picking on the sub because none of the other teachers seemed to be doing the shitty shitty job of denying kids warmth and shelter so I was just trying to ignore it (and stay inside) and occupy my mind with something else. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">I did a little quick math in my head: 12 seven-minute games = 12x7 = 84. Allowing two minutes for transitioning between games makes that 12x9 = 108. This tournament should take no more than an hour and 45 minutes. They had allotted two and a half hours. I asked a teacher walking by, one of the many who said, "Hee hee, It's not usually like this!! You must hate us!!" You're fucking right I did. But I didn't say that. I asked one of them: What do the kids do after the tournament is over? Surely they weren't going to make them stand outside with nothing to do for 45 minutes. She said, "They have lunch. But we decided to let them eat inside since it's so cold!" Then I said, "But what about the time between when the tournament ends, and lunch begins at 12:00?" She didn't know what I was talking about and looked at me like I was an idiot, (what did </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">I</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"> know?) and walked back outside. She was wearing a blanket. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">Sure enough the tournament ended about 40 minutes early. The kids ran upstairs back to their homerooms. I was so happy to be back in a room with heat and chairs I could have cried. Then another teacher came into my room and started barking orders at the kids in my class. Apparently we were all going to be sitting there for 40 minutes until the cafeteria was free. She wanted ideas for what the kids wanted to do. One kid said he wanted to watch a Magic Schoolbus episode and this teacher told him it would take him about ten minutes to run to the library to get one so it probably wouldn't be worth it. First of all, a seventh grade boy can retrieve a dvd from a room two floors down in about 90 seconds (what is with these teachers and their total lack of knowledge about how long things take?) and for another thing, they had a smartboard and Youtube. No need to run anywhere. I found a full-length episode of Magic Schoolbus and started it up. I thought that teacher would leave my room and go back to her own, but she didn't. She sat down. Why? Was I done? Why was there another teacher with me? Who is watching her class? Is it because I let the kids in the stairwell when they were hypothermic against "orders?" She sat down in the chair next to the computer and bumped the keyboard. The movie paused. She got all flustered and tried to fix it by turning the volume all the way down. When she saw that didn't fix the problem, she came to the conclusion that the "internet was probably broken." I pushed play and it started again to her utter amazement. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">One of the most frustrating things about the day was that people thought I was so stupid. I know I'm not exactly a genius, but when stupid people think I'm stupid,</span><i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"> that's</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"> discouraging. Needless to say I will never go back there again. Oh, and another thing: I was told I would be paid for a half day: four hours. I was there from 7:15 to 12:00 and I was supposed to stay until 12:30 to eat with the kids but I ducked out. That is 4 hours and 45 minutes. If I don't get paid for that 45 minutes I'm going to raise a stink. I normally wouldn't, I'd just make a note not to do the half-day for them again because it isn't really a half-day, but this time I'm going to make a big deal about it because the day was so incredibly shitty. I've already gotten the bit about how the Catholics don't pay as much because they just don't have the money:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;" /><br />
<div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WIqsZNTDHbU/T6VTnnhfStI/AAAAAAAAEIY/UQFg3oIZQyg/s1600/Vatican.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #32aaff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="311" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WIqsZNTDHbU/T6VTnnhfStI/AAAAAAAAEIY/UQFg3oIZQyg/s320/Vatican.jpeg" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px; text-align: center;">To which I say, "Bullshit."</div></div>Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-27186586827529775872012-04-19T11:55:00.001-07:002012-04-19T12:01:19.265-07:00Peeve<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I subbed in a second grade room for the last three days. One of my biggest peeves about the younger grades is parents. Every time I'm in a class of Kindergarteners, first graders, or second graders, I get parents that want to "check in" but have nothing to say. This is how it went yesterday: I got all the kids settled on the front carpet for a story. The carpet is big, but prime carpet real estate is as close as humanly possible to the rocking chair in the corner, where I sit. It took some doing to get them all situated and then I started the story. Soon after I started, the class phone rang. I had to stop the story, try to get through the glut of second graders crowding the chair, rush to the desk and answer the phone. It was a parent. She wanted to know how her kid was doing. But when these parents check in, they are on dreamy mommy time, and seem not to have any idea that they have just completely stopped a class that has 25 seven-year-olds in it. They talk torturously slow, like this:<br />
<br />
Me: (answering the phone) Hello, Mrs. Anderson's room.<br />
<br />
Obnoxious helicopter mom (ohm): Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii................ Thiiiiiiissss iiiiiiissssss Jooooohhhhhnnn'ssssss mooooooooommmmmmmm....... Hooooooooooow iiiiiiiiiiissssssssss hhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeee dddddddddoooooooooiiiiiiinnnnnngggg tttttttttoooooooooodddddddddaaaaaaayyyyyyyy?????????????<br />
<br />
Me: (watching the class trying to wait patiently, failing): He's fine, why?<br />
<br />
ohm: IIIIIIIIIIIIIII jjjjjjjjjjuuuuuuuuuuussssssssssstttttttttttt wwwwwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnntttttttteeeeeeeeeedddddddddd ttttttttoooooooooo cccccccchhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeccccccccccckkkkkkkkkk iiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
Me: Okay?.... Can I help you with anything else? <br />
<br />
ohm: Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooo,....... ttttttttthhhhhhaaaaaaaaaatttttttttttsssssssssss aaaaaaaaaaallllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll.....................<br />
<br />
Me: Okay, thanks for calling, bye.<br />
<br />
By this time the kids are talking loud and some are bickering about who moved three inches which way and blah blah blah. I carefully step between them to take my place at the rocking chair and resume the story. I read maybe one more page and the phone rings again. I consider letting it ring, but even as I'm thinking about it ten kids are telling me that the phone is ringing. It couldn't possibly disrupt the class any more than if I just answered it. I creep through the kids again, trying hard again not to step on hands or feet. I answer the phone. It is the <i>same woman.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Me: Hello, Mrs. Anderson's room.<br />
<br />
ohm: IIIIIIIIIIIIII ffffffffffooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggoooooooottttttt ttttttttttttooooooooooo tttttteeeeeeeeeelllllllllllll yyyyyyyooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuu...............................................................................................................<br />
.......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................... JJJJJooooooohhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnn sssssssssshhhhhhhhhoooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuullllllllllllldddddddddd ttttaaaaaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkeeeeeeeeee ttttttttttthhhhhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeee bbbbbbbbbbbuuuuuuuuuuuusssssssssssss hhhhhhhhhhoooommmmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeee tttttoooooooooodddddddddddddaaaaaaaaay. <br />
<br />
Me: Okay. <br />
<br />
ohm: Tttttttttttthhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaatttttttttttttsssssssssss aaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllllll!!!!!! Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaavvvvvvvvvvvveeeeeeeeeeeeee aaaaaaaaaaaa gggggggggggooooooooooooodddddddddddddd ddddddddddaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
Me: Okay, bye.<br />
<br />
The read-aloud story is over before it has even begun. The kids are sick of waiting for me, they are sick of their self-imposed crowding on the carpet, and we are all irritated. I looked at John's schedule and he <i>takes the bus home every day. </i>I told him his mom said for him to take the bus home and he looked confused and said, "I know!" What the <i>WHAT?</i><br />
<br />
Another parent came in when the kids were off at lunch. I was trying to cram down a sandwich duck style so I could spend the bulk of my kid-free lunch period correcting yesterday's math homework so I know what to review during the math lesson right after lunch. She poked her head in the door and said,<br />
<br />
ohm: Hi..................................is Mrs. Anderson here today? <br />
<br />
Me: (trying my hardest not to hold up my arms displaying the obvious lack of Mrs. Anderson) No, I'm her sub.<br />
<br />
ohm: Oh....................................................................................................... I'm Bert's mom...................... How is he doing today?<br />
<br />
Me: He's fine. Why?<br />
<br />
ohm: Oh............................ no reason. <br />
<br />
Me: ........................???????<br />
<br />
ohm: So................... what have you guys been doing today?<br />
<br />
Do I look like I want to chat? I get about 30 kid-free minutes in a school day and I have about 90 minutes of work that needs to be done when the kids aren't in the room, because when they are in the room I'M TEACHING THEM. It's a real job. I realize that they are just curious about their little babies, but come on, how dense are they that they can't see that there are 24 other kids and one teacher? Sometimes they come in when the kids are in the room. They interrupt a lesson and want to chit chat and don't seem to notice the Lord Of The Rings scenarios happening right in front of their eyes because instead of managing the class, I'm having a ridiculous small-talk conversation with a woman I will never see again, about how her kid couldn't find his shoes that morning, and it was so funny because blah blah blah the dog blah blah blah his brother blah blah blah. I don't tell them, "I'm busy" like I would<i> really</i> like to do because I'm a sub, I don't want to be rude and make any waves for the regular teacher so I just put up with it and try to ooze some tension and impatience, while I smile and nod. If I ever come across one of them at their job I will relish wasting their time telling them some stupid story while customers are backing up or phones are ringing, or people are waiting for them. I will love that.</div>Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-10092475654602813312012-03-20T20:23:00.001-07:002012-03-20T20:24:09.180-07:00Student TeachersI've been subbing all week for a bunch of teachers who have student teachers. Tuesday I was in a science class and the student teacher was fabulous. It seemed like he had been teaching for years. He was teaching about genomes and alleles and genetics, and kept using "Let's say your parents mate and blahblahblah" as an example for how the offspring would turn out with blue eyes or red hair or whatever. I LOVED how every single kid flinched every time the guy said the words "your parents mate." I mentioned that after the first class and he was totally aware of it and was doing it on purpose. Brilliant. Despite their squeamishness, the kids loved him. All I had to do all day was sit in the room and play Angry Birds. <br />
<br />
Monday was a tough day because I was in one of my favorite third grade rooms and their student teacher was horrendous. One example: She said she wanted to teach math because it is her specialty. (At this point she should be teaching everything all day, but her cooperating teacher won't let her.) It was a lesson on multiplying and dividing 5s. <br />
<br />
The first thing they were supposed to do was copy down these words: division, divider, divisor and quotient. This was written up on the smart board and she told them to copy it. She didn't tell them where to copy it (on a blank sheet of paper? in their math journals?) but to give her the benefit of the doubt, I'm guessing they copy vocab on a regular basis and knew where to put it. But they didn't do it. Nobody copied it because she barreled ahead with the lesson. They didn't even have time to get out paper to write the stuff down. <br />
<br />
She rushed through a few boring word problems, never once using the words division, divisor, divider or quotient; only stopping long enough to occasionally bitch at someone for not paying attention. She wouldn't listen to them if they had questions, and she said things like, "Don't come ask me how to do this later because I won't tell you." You <i>won't?! </i> Nice TEACHER. <br />
<br />
The kids were DONE with math after that lesson. The scheduled time for math was up and it was clearly time to move on. She tried to forge ahead with another lesson but the kids simply couldn't do it. The first lesson was too torturous to even think of starting a new one. The teacher sat up at the front of the class and pouted and said, "Oh great, now I'M going to get yelled at because we didn't do this lesson. Thanks a lot, guys." <br />
<br />
Who does that?!<br />
<br />
The highlight of the day was when the kids were doing a phonics worksheet on homophones. They were supposed to choose the right word to put in the blank in a sentence. One girl called me over because she was having trouble with one of the problems. The homophones were "hare/hair" and the sentence was "Gladys washes her __________ every day." The little girl said, "I don't know what to put." and I thought she wasn't sure what a hare was so I told her it was a wild bunny. She said, "I <i>know</i> what a hare is, I don't know which one to put in the space because they both make sense." I almost collapsed from the cuteness. I can't express how much I love the image of a little girl bathing a jackrabbit every single day. I said, "Well, I suppose you could wash a hare every day but I bet you'd have a lot of scratches!"<br />
<br />
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<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kR8FmDTLQvc/T2lHO8c69HI/AAAAAAAAD2o/8GUUPlGakqA/s1600/brown_hare_land_130409%252831%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kR8FmDTLQvc/T2lHO8c69HI/AAAAAAAAD2o/8GUUPlGakqA/s400/brown_hare_land_130409%252831%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">("What? I always walk like this.")</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-12562010275609443972012-03-16T19:53:00.000-07:002012-03-16T19:53:02.510-07:00Math ClassI subbed in a math class this morning. There was a student teacher in there and he was wonderful. He was patient, kind, and knew his material backward and forward. (I think I may have learned the distributive property!) Of course even the best student teachers don't feel the confidence that they need to completely master a class, and you can't blame them. It's not their class to master, the teacher is usually sitting right there watching (which is ominous and intimidating even if you have the best cooperating teacher), they are not that much older than their students, and the students can sense all this and take advantage of it. Every teacher knows that on days when you are not feeling your best, students sense it; much like sharks smelling blood in the water, and go in for the proverbial kill. <br />
<br />
When I find I'll be working with a student teacher I ask them how much they want me involved and I offer myself up for anything they need. Most of the time the student teacher is happy to have an opportunity to be the lead teacher in the class. That's how I felt when I was a student teacher. I was so relieved when my cooperating teachers were gone and there was a sub. Now I'm the sub and I tell them they are the ones who know what is going on, so I am there as their assistant, willing to help in any way I can. Need me to play bad cop to your good cop in classroom discipline? No problem. Want me to correct papers? Give them to me. Need a break and want me to teach? Sure thing. Usually they say they want to do it all. That's my favorite because then I can sit back and read a book. <br />
<br />
Like I said, the teacher I was with this morning was very good but the kids could have been nicer. They did some of my absolute worst pet peeves and because this man hasn't seen it ten thousand times already, he dealt with it with too much patience and kindness. <br />
<br />
Pet peeve number 1: A student wanders in to class just as the bell rings. He has NOTHING in his hands. He sits down at his desk. The teacher gets started with the lesson saying something along the lines of, "Today we are going to correct your study guide and then have the chapter test. You may use your notes on the test." The teacher tells everyone to get their study guide out and get ready to correct, and waits a minute or two so everyone can get ready. <br />
<br />
As the teacher is reading out the first answer, the boy who walked in with nothing meanders up to the front. He interrupts the correcting by asking the teacher, "Can I go to my locker and get my study guide?" The patient young teacher says yes. The kid leaves, the teacher continues with correcting the test. They finish correcting. The kid who left meanders back in with a blank study guide. The rest of the class is getting ready for the test. The kid with the blank study guide, who missed all the answers because he took ten minutes going to a locker a few yards down the hallway, wants the teacher to now take time out of class to give him the answers on a study guide he didn't even attempt to do. The nice teacher says they really don't have time to go over the whole thing again, sorry, they have to get started on the test. The kid acts put out and slumps back into his desk. <br />
<br />
The test is passed out and the kids are told to begin. The same kid wanders up to the teacher again and says, "I don't have a pencil." That scenario <i>drives me crazy</i>. Why would anyone come to math class without his work and a <i>pencil?</i> It would be the same as a house-builder going to work without his ladder and his toolbox. <br />
<br />
Now I stand at the door between bells and tell anyone coming in to make sure they have their materials and something to write with. I still get kids who come up to me after class starts asking to go to their lockers for materials, but I usually say no. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">***************************************</div><br />
Pet Peeve Number 2: The patient young teacher gives the kids ten minutes at the end of class to get started on their homework assignment. He wants them to use this time to look over the assignment and get started so they can see if they have questions about anything. The kids work on it (or at least pretend to work on it) for five minutes and then pack everything up and stand by the door. Why are they standing by the door? What's the rush to get into the hallway??? <br />
<br />
The patient teacher asks them to sit back down and they accommodate him by walking a lap around the room, pushing their friends around as they go and then beeline it right back up to the door as soon as the teacher is preoccupied with someone who is actually doing their assignment. <br />
<br />
They won't be satisfied to simply stand by the door either. They get tired of standing by the door after about 30 seconds so they say, "Can we go?" No. Wait for the bell. They wait another 15 seconds and say again, "Can we go? NO. They wait another 45 seconds and say, "There's people in the hall. Can we go?" No, I said wait for the bell! They watch the clock like it is a starter's pistol and then ten seconds before the bell rings they run out into the hall. <br />
<br />
If you let them do that, then they will pack up a few minutes earlier (and run out into the hall earlier) every day. My method for dealing with that now is that I address these things at the beginning of each and every class. I tell them that if they crowd around the door before the bell rings, they will be sitting at a desk and have to wait until the very last person leaves before they are excused. I still get kids who try it anyway and they get so mad when they have to sit and wait until after every slowpoke has left the class. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">**********************************</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Today while the teacher was going over their warm up problems that are on the board when they come in every day, one kid was totally ignoring what was happening in class and was talking and laughing loudly with his friend. The teacher tried to wrangle the kid back into the fold by asking him a question about the problem they were working on. The kid said, "I don't know, you're the teacher, you tell me," which got a big laugh from his buddies. Do you know how hard it was for me to bite my tongue, stay seated and not jump up, disrupt the class, (effectively undermining the teacher) and yell, "ZACK! Apologize to Mr. D. and if you don't get your assignment out and follow along RIGHT NOW you and I will go to the referral room and CALL YOUR MOTHER!" It was really <i>really</i> hard. But I held my tongue and Mr. D., although briefly flustered by the unnecessary rudeness, handled it well. <br />
<br />
What do you do when you sub in a class with student teachers?Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-38820626410665952402012-03-15T06:22:00.002-07:002012-03-15T08:26:53.160-07:00Sixth GradersI taught a wonderful group of sixth graders recently. The middle school is enormous and there are almost a thousand kids who go there, which in my opinion is way too many, but I have to give them credit for how the powers that be have handled the sixth grade. The kids are mainly in their own wing and there are three teams. Each team has four teachers and about a hundred kids. The kids on the team have one of the four teachers as their homeroom teacher. The kids in the same homeroom stay with each other for their core classes so they get to know each other pretty well. The four teachers on the team keep each other abreast of any problems or issues going on with kids on the team. There is a clipboard that goes with each of the four groups of kids to every class. On that, teachers can make notes for other team teachers concerning the kids. They also make notes for students who are absent. It's a pretty good system. <br />
<br />
Anyway, I was teaching for the math teacher on one of the three teams. I had the homeroom group for reading, language and math, and then the other three groups on the team for math class as well. Reading class starts with a read aloud book. I was about to start when someone said, "Are we supposed to sit in our assigned seats?" I said, "Are you <i>usually </i>supposed to sit in your assigned seats for read aloud?" They said yes so I said, "Then you need to sit in your assigned seats." Someone else asked, "Can we draw while you read?" I said, "Can you <i>usually</i> draw while the teacher reads?" No, not usually. So no, they couldn't draw today either. Then I was about to get started. I half-sat on a table at the front of the room and just as I opened my mouth to start, the sweet-looking boy sitting at that table said quietly, "She doesn't <i>usually</i> sit on my table when she reads." I gave him my best pseudo-scathing look and dramatically slid my rear off the table. The kids laughed. I laughed. They were fun.Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-20783048945348843822012-03-14T06:27:00.000-07:002012-03-15T06:27:22.930-07:00CatsYesterday I took a kindergarten job. I don't know why I do it. I guess it's like a challenge, and also the teacher likes me and asked me specifically to do it, so I took the job. I'm a sucker. Those kids are SO CUTE, but teaching kindergarten is like simultaneously managing a room full of cats and putting out fires - all day long. Occasionally I have to take the cats out of the room to the library, or the lunchroom and that is a total fiasco. Getting the cats to put on all their winter clothes to go home is another fiasco. Cats don't care if the bus is going to be there in 5 minutes. Cats don't care about anything but what they want to care about, and you can be sure it's nothing you want them to care about.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Jt0_h3gm_fg/T2CtLDsf6MI/AAAAAAAAD0g/lWsMoZgoYik/s1600/hungry-cats-300x225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img aea="true" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Jt0_h3gm_fg/T2CtLDsf6MI/AAAAAAAAD0g/lWsMoZgoYik/s1600/hungry-cats-300x225.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">My class</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We got through most of the day with no major problems. We had reading centers and did a pretty intense math activity. That took the whole morning with me running around helping, solving problems, picking stuff up off the floor, resolving conflicts, tying shoes, buttoning pants, listening to tattles, etc. etc. I was, for every second, either being talked to or talking. I didn't have one minute to sit, go to the bathroom, or take a drink of water. I don't know how kindergarten teachers do it day in and day out. It is <em>exhausting. </em><br />
<br />
Finally it was lunch time. I gave them 15 minutes to get ready with all their winter clothes for recess afterward. Some kids were ready in one minute, some kids still hadn't even put their snowpants on when it was time to leave. So I brought the first wave down and then came back to get the second wave. When I finally got back to the room to eat my own lunch, a parent came in with a kid that wasn't there in the morning. I told him the kids were down at the cafeteria for lunch, thinking he could bring his kid down there himself. He stared at me. The kid stared at me. I said, "Joseph, put your stuff on for recess and go to lunch." The dad said, "He has to wear all his stuff just to go to lunch?" Yes, Mr. Underminer, because if he doesn't put his boots and snowpants on now, he will totally miss recess because of how long it takes a five year old to put their boots and snowpants on, not to mention the fact that if he isn't wearing everything he needs, he will lose half of it on the short walk to the cafeteria. I didn't say all that. I just said, "Yes." Then he stood there while his kid sloooooowwwwwly put on his stuff and griped about why the kids have to go to lunch wearing all their stuff. He finally left and I had about ten minutes to myself where someone wasn't poking me or crying about something.<br />
<br />
Then I went to get them. There must have been a bee on the playground because every single kid <em>told </em>me there was a bee on the playground. Then one kid said he got stung by the bee. I asked where and he didn't have an answer. Another kid heard the first kid say he got stung so he said he also got stung. Then everyone was saying they got stung. They<i><b> lie</b></i>.<br />
<br />
The afternoon was much less intense than the morning; they had library, which left me with a merciful 25 minutes to pick up the room and get ready for them to come back, and then when they came back it was story time (my favorite), and then free play time. During free play time a group of them wanted me to read stories to them. They LIKE me! They made me sit on the carpet and then they piled around me like a bunch of puppies and listened to me read. It was pretty sweet, but while I was doing that, there was another group of kids who silently FILLED the water table to the tippy top. They did it by filling and re-filling a four-cup measuring cup. I bet there was fifty gallons of water in that table, and the kids were soaked and the floor all around was soaked. I made the water-table people help me clean up the mess they made, which had the exact results as it would if you told a bunch of cats to help you clean up a mess. It was more work getting them to grab paper towels and soak up the water on the floor than it would have been to just do it myself, but we finally did it.<br />
<br />
Then the sub notes said to gather on the carpet and talk about our day. "Hey cats, I want all of you to sit in the same general area at a specific point in time!" It eventually happened, but I had to chase and cajole and plead with five or six of them to go to the rug, go to the rug, go to the rug, go to the rug, go to the rug, can't you see everyone else on the rug? go to the rug, go to the rug, go to the rug. Let's go to the rug! Wouldn't going to the rug be fun? go to the rug, go to the rug, go to the rug, you don't need to check your backpack for your toy shark right now, go to the rug, go to the rug, go to the rug, you can get your water bottle after you go to the rug, go to the rug, go to the rug, don't worry that your shoe is untied for the 800th time right now, just go to the rug, go to the rug, yes, it's very intersting that you have scabs on your leg that vaguely form the letter Y but right now go to the rug, go to the rug, no, I didn't know your teacher usually says "carpet," does it matter? oh, it does? okay, go to the carpet.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9h-eqi5M3z0/T2CwO2N1jtI/AAAAAAAAD0o/3iNE0Ep3uOQ/s1600/741595_370.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="255" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9h-eqi5M3z0/T2CwO2N1jtI/AAAAAAAAD0o/3iNE0Ep3uOQ/s320/741595_370.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">go to the rug</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Finally, time to go home. This brilliant teacher has set things up so a bunch of fifth graders come and are assigned to certain kindergarteners, and they help them get ready, gather their things, and then walk them to their bus. I was so grateful to see those fifth graders that I could have cried.<br />
<br />
Today I'm subbing for a woman who teaches AP social studies. I have not had to tie any shoes or button any pants (so far). Nobody has tattled and I don't expect to hear any tattles. If they miss the bus, I won't even know about it, much less be responsible for it. Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-37787014598862684192012-02-10T20:33:00.001-08:002012-02-24T20:34:56.870-08:00Two Conversations<strong style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Conversation I had yesterday with a group of third graders during their snack time:</strong><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Nick: I lost a tooth last night and I got a two-dollar bill from the tooth fairy!</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: Lucky!</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Winnie: I tricked the tooth fairy once. I gave her my dog's tooth.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: (gasp) DON'T DO THAT! The toothfairy HATES being tricked!</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Winnie: She gave me a dollar.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: Well, maybe she accepts puppy teeth as well children's teeth, but you guys better be careful.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Matt: Why? What's the big deal?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: One time my daughter found a tiny white rock that was sort of tooth-shaped and she tried to trick the tooth fairy by hiding it under her pillow. You know what the toothfairy did when she found it?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Matt, Winnie, Nick: What?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: She PUNCHED Kira in the stomach!</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Winnie: No she didn't!</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: Yes, she did. Kira learned her lesson.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Nick: I put a rock under my pillow once and I didn't get punched. I don't believe you.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: Well, maybe she didn't punch you. Maybe she pooped in your corner instead.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Winnie: Oh gross!</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Nick: She didn't.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: Are you sure? She's very small.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Nick: I'm sure. I would have noticed because my dog pooped on the floor once and I found it right away.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: Look, all I'm saying is that it's not smart to mess with a magical being that collects discarded body parts. Be careful. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">The story spread like wildfire. I honestly didn't think it was that big a deal when the words were coming out of my mouth, but when I heard the story being whispered over and over, "The toothfairy punches you if you trick her!" "The toothfairy POOPS in your house if she's mad! Mrs. L. said so!", I thought maybe that wasn't the best story to tell the kids. Oh well. They'll forget about it. No biggy. Later I learned that parent/teacher conferences were that night. Crap. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><strong style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Conversation I expect to have later today:</strong><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Mrs. G.: (the third-grade teacher I was subbing for yesterday) We had parent conferences last night.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: Oh yeah, how did they go?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Mrs. G.: Nick's mom asked me about the substitute who told Nick that the toothfairy poops in their rooms.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: ............ oh, heavens to Betsy!</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Mrs. G.: I didn't really know how to respond.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me.: Oh....wow.... I wonder where Nick would ever come up with something like that?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Mrs. G.: He told her it was "Mrs. L." </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: Oh. Come to think of it, we did talk abou the toothfairy and how vengeful she can be. I might have mentioned that pooping in corners was in her wheelhouse. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Mrs. G: Next time you talk about the toothfairy's mean streak, maybe leave out the pooping. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: Noted. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br />
<div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jv77wTU0kBA/TzU98yBS8fI/AAAAAAAADdE/1l6xr0yWr2k/s1600/toothfairy01final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #0492ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jv77wTU0kBA/TzU98yBS8fI/AAAAAAAADdE/1l6xr0yWr2k/s1600/toothfairy01final.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; border-width: initial; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; position: relative;" /></a></div>Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-59932308472834355382011-12-22T07:24:00.002-08:002012-03-15T07:25:16.719-07:00I should run the worldWhen Sam was in eighth grade, I got an email from a teacher saying that she had been having some problems with him blurting out what he thought were funny jibes in the middle of class. He was trying his hand at being a class clown. I told him that if I ever heard anything like that from a teacher again, I would go with him to every class, every day and monitor his behavior until I was sure he had adjusted his attitude about school, teachers and what he was there to do. I told him it would probably take a couple weeks. He was <em>terrified</em> I would do it, and I would have. (I was actually kind of looking forward to it. I love school.) I didn't have to yell, or punish. I just had to let him know in a way that he understood that I valued his education and it was my job as his parent to make sure he took full advantage of his opportunities. We've never had another problem. He takes school seriously now and is a successful student. I'm not delusional enough to think I enlightened him to the importance of soaking up as much education as he could, I know it was because he was worried about his social status with his friends. That's why he was acting out in the first place, to be "cool." He apparently doesn't think that having his mom come to school with him and nag him all day every day is very cool so he adjusted his behavior. As a result of his mortal fear of humiliation, he has come to realize that he learns more with his mouth shut than with it open. Mission accomplished!<br />
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Of course, I am totally influenced to be a hard ass on this subject because I'm a substitute. I see especially obnoxious behavior from students every day, and I have a special apprecation for parents who nip obnoxiousness in the bud. But parents can't do anything about it if they don't know what's going on. I regularly call parents when I have an especially difficult behavior problem with a student. When kids have a sub they sometimes have the attitude that they will never have to see this lady again in their lives so anything goes. They are usually pretty surprised when I produce a class list with parent names and phone numbers and ask the sixth grader to take five minutes out of their lunch break to call mom and explain why they thought it was so funny to yell out, "Never mind what my name is, you're not the boss of me!" while I was taking attendance. Usually when I call parents I get a very positive response and when I go back to that classroom, I have very few problems. But sometimes I reach a parents that is at their wit's end. They don't know what to do. They say, "You should see how she acts at home!" What is a teacher supposed to do with that?<br />
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This is what I think they should do. I think that if your child's behavior is something a teacher finds she is spending too much time dealing with, they should be removed from the class. Why should a teacher have to deal with your obnoxious kid? A teacher's job is to teach a large number of students at one time. It's efficient and cost effective and if there weren't any behavior problems, it would work wonderfully. Unfortunately I find I am spending more and more time dealing with the rotten behavior of a small percent, while the majority of students sit there and wait. Why should teachers have to spend so much time on kids who don't want to be at school anyway? Sure, they NEED to be at school, they NEED an education, but they don't know that. They're too young. They don't have the perspective to see what a wonderful opportunity they have. All they know is that they are being "forced" to do something they think they are supposed to hate, against their will, and they will fight it any way they can. It's the only way to express any power over their situation. Schools are perpetuating that view by tolerating more and more outrageous behavior.<br />
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My solution? KICK 'EM OUT! Sure it's the law that students stay in school until they are sixteen but do you now how many problems a fifteen-year-old that doesn't have any rules at home and thinks he's being oppressed can cause? Do you know how much damage just one kid can do? It's a lot. Why do we put up with it? If they did that at a job they'd be fired. If they acted that way while patronizing a business they would escorted out. When I ask the kids who cause me problems what would happen if they talked that way to their mom, many of them get a glazed look on their face and say something along the lines of, "I don't talk that way to my mom. She'd kill me." When I ask the kids causing problems why they bothered to come to school that day they look at me like I'm stupid. "We HAVE to come to school!" When I tell the high school kid walking around disrupting the class after I have repeatedly asked him to sit down and do his work, that if he doesn't participate and do what he is supposed to do, I will mark him absent (my most effective behavior modification tool for the older grades) they <em>freak</em> out. They tell me that I can't do that because if they are physically present, they are working toward a passing grade and then they spend their time berating me for making such an empty threat. They are counting the days until graduation and assume that if they show up and do a bare minimum amount of academic work, no matter how many problems they cause, no matter how much stress they put on other students and their teachers, not to mention the physical damage many of them do to the school; they will graduate and get their diploma. Why do they think that? Because they see people do it every year. They brag about how little effort they put into their classes. I had one freshman proudly show me his report card last report-card day. I was baffled when I saw that he was getting a .85 grade point average. Why would he show that to me? Why wasn't he embarrassed? Why did he think it was so funny?<br />
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Of course, if we expelled kids for behavior problems, we'd have a lot of obnoxious minors running around during school/work hours causing problems AND they wouldn't even have a chance to get some education by osmosis. Okay, how about this? If your child gets removed from class for a behavior issue, he will not be allowed back in until he has a meeting with his parents, teachers and school administrator, and arrangements are made for that student to have a behavior aide with him at all times until it is agreed upon between the student, parents and teachers that a behavior aide is no longer needed. The parents would be responsible for paying the aide's salary. If they can't afford it, they or the kid could work off the cost by volunteering at the school. Sure, being a freshman at a new school and having a babysitter with you at all times would be embarrassing, but so what? The aides would be invaluable to the staff and other students, and I would guess that general behavior problems would virtually stop after two or three kids were seen sulking through the halls with their aides.Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-56154634163546802772011-11-16T07:35:00.000-08:002012-03-15T07:36:28.132-07:00I'm losing itI have a two day job teaching the worst second graders on the planet. I know what you're thinking, "How can seven-year-olds be horrible? They are just adorable children!" To that I say, "Where do you think grown up assholes come from? They come from adorable asshole children."<br />
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As I was trying to coax one little boy out of his locker this afternoon, I was fondly remembering how nice it was to work at the jail with rapists and murderers. Sure they had their annoying moments, but at least I got a good recipe for toilet wine out of that deal. I also learned what an eight-ball is (it has nothing to do with billiards)and where I can score one. Useful information! Tit for tat! What are these second graders giving me? A big fat load of bullshit, that's what.Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-73374288127725757752011-09-27T07:37:00.003-07:002012-03-15T07:38:52.192-07:002nd GradeI've been subbing this week for a second grade teacher. I love second grade. I love kids. I love teaching. I love school. The kids are so fantastically weird, and if I let them, they would talk to me all day and tell me crazy stories. ALL DAY. I am already too indulgent with them because I crave their crazy stories, so I'm afraid that there is a good chunk of our day spent with me sitting at the teacher's desk and the kids lined up under the pretense of getting individual help with their math or reading, but we actually all know that they are only lined up to tell me something strange that they dreamed about, or that they saw on TV or that their parent's did.<br />
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Yesterday I got a scene by scene retelling of a movie about a girl who got her arm bit off by a shark while surfing. Surely the synopsis was a million times better than the actual movie because the girl that told it to me was so intensely involved in the telling, dramatic gestures and all. This morning a boy told me all about the show Terra Nova. Dinosaurs! Blood sucking worms! The jungle! Violence! Terror! (I can't believe what parents let their kids watch.)<br />
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This afternoon one boy was tired and had a bit of a meltdown that landed him in the hall. I got so much secretive, unsolicited advice about how to handle it. One girl told me she didn't want to see me get my feelings hurt so I should call the principal and let her handle things. Another kid told me to make him sit in a time-out during afternoon recess by the bee hive.<br />
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The only thing I don't like about teaching is the hard schedule. And the only reason I mind that is because (and forgive my bluntness) when a girl has to poop a girl has to poop. And a girl can't say to 25 seven-year-olds, "Talk amongst yourselves for ten minutes or so while I drop the kids off at the pool," because it only takes about 90 seconds for them to devolve into a <i>Lord of the Flies </i>type scenario (re: time-outs by the bee hive). So teaching makes me constipated.<br />
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I saw something incredibly strange today. There is a student teacher working with another teacher and she is young and thin and beautiful, but today she was wearing the strangest thing. She had on a normal, properly sized, oxford, button down shirt. No pleats, no puffiness, nothing special. What was weird was that she was wearing a thin leather braided belt around her rib cage. Right under her boobs. It looked so uncomfortable, and so weird! Is this a new thing? I've never seen anything like it so I was staring at her under-boobs all day wondering <i>what-the-hell</i> and I'm sure she just thinks I was staring at her boobs, which I kind of was. So who's the strange one?Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-5971939867162655342011-05-03T20:57:00.002-07:002012-02-24T20:59:47.842-08:00My blog is my sty<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I'm having a great morning. I got a job teaching for half a day for a health teacher who I get called for every spring when she is teaching something totally awkward and embarrassing. I don't think she is embarrassed by it at all, in fact, I think she's totally immune, but I have to wonder at her needing a sub in the spring and never any other time. Hmmm... Anyway, today the kids have guest speakers talking about date rape. They are doing a unit called "One by One: Teens explore Date Rape" Just the title alone is enough to cause a 15 year old to claw hopelessly at the ground hoping to dig him/herself a giant hole to climb in. I LOVE that ninth graders, who can be pretty obnoxious at times, are reduced to looking busy and interested in the most insignificant scribble on their desks when someone asks, "What are three ways a girl might say "no" in a date rape situation." Is there</span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> any</em><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> good answer a 15 year old boy can give to that awkward, potentially incriminating question? -- "Well, when </span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><strong>I</strong></em><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> dabbled in date-raping, I found girls usually just said, 'WHAT do you think you're doing?'" -- No, there really isn't a good way a kid can answer that question, so they stay silent and still, knowing that the guest speaker can only see movement, and if you stay still, avert your eyes, and blend in, </span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">they won't even know you are there</em><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I needed a good job today. Yesterday I taught kindergarten again. I only sub for one kindergarten teacher and only because I like her, but I might have to break the news to her that I HATE kindergarten and can't do it any more. She's kind of a big shot and is gone to meetings a lot, and that means a lot of work for me, but I don't know if it's worth it. Yesterday three kids peed their pants. My mom, who was a kindergarten teacher for many many years said that she thinks it is because they are afraid of me, but I know that isn't it. Two of them are best friends and both peed their pants during a bathroom break after lunch. They peed their pants together</span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> in the bathroom</em><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">. Like it's what all the cool kids do. Another one came out of the bathroom that is located </span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">in the classroom</em><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">with pee all over her pants. Excuse me, aren't you six years old? WTF is with all the peeing? </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">One girl came in to class first thing in the morning and told me that she needed a student to assist her for the day because </span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">she went blind</em><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">. Here's our conversation:</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Girl: Can Ava sit by me and help me today? I need help because I went blind.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: You're blind?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Girl: Yes.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: When did you go blind?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Girl: Yesterday after I went bowling.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: Do you mean you can't see anything, or you can't see well?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Girl: Yesterday I couldn't see anything. Today I can't see well.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: Did you go to the doctor?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Girl: No.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: Did you tell your parents?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Girl: Yes. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: Do you have a headache?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Girl: No, I'm just blind.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: -----</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Girl: So can Ava help me today?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: ........... Yeah, sure. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I agreed to teach that class again tomorrow. New class rule -- NO DRINKING LIQUIDS ALL DAY LONG.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I have to say that after my last post, exposing to the world my true nerdiness (and my sister's true nerdiness) that I am loving the comments! My aunt emailed me and called me a big nerd, and then went on to give me </span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">her</em><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> opinion on which Hogwarts houses she thinks the Founding Fathers would be placed in. (NERD.) Diary of a Mad Bathroom made me crack up this morning when I read her comment that kindly suggests I find like-minded nerds to talk to, like if I don't find an outlet for my nerdiness I might do something dramatic and irrational. Of course, this is all happening on my blog, which in itself is an indication of my immense nerdiness. I embrace my nerdiness and roll around in it like a pig in a sty. My blog is my sty. </span>Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-81979964274433178132011-02-09T09:25:00.001-08:002012-03-15T09:26:15.261-07:00It's all bitching todayI have subbed the last two days. Yesterday I was in a third grade room that I've never been in before. I was only there for the afternoon and because I got there early enough to look over all the notes, I got to talk with the teacher before she left for her meeting. She was a nice enough lady, maybe 15 years older than me. The class was finishing up a story about a kid in Harlem. She had great control of the class, and the kids were nice and respectful so I don't have issues with that. (In fact to be fair, I shouldn't really judge anyone from watching them for 10 minutes, BUT...) This is what she said that astounded me: They were talking about this story which takes place in Harlem and some kid in the class asked where Harlem is and she explained that it is in New York and it's a poor neighborhood, probably someplace you wouldn't want to go because it's dangerous. She said it had a lot of poverty. Some other kid asked what poverty was. She said, "...like dirt and litter all over the place." What??? That's what poverty is? Come ON, LADY! The story they were reading was called "Me and my friend Max" or something like that. She asked the class, "What is wrong with this title? And they said that it should be, "My friend Max and I" to be proper English. She said that it's okay though because it's a title and people there don't speak very well. <em>WHAT??? </em>I just stood there dumbfounded that this woman would paint such a horrible and racist picture for a (an) historic place like Harlem. If she doesn't know what it's like shouldn't she say, "I don't know much about Harlem. Let's look it up." I was tempted to blurt out "WHAT ABOUT THE GLOBETROTTERS, LADY!"<br />
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Today I'm subbing in a class that I've been in a lot, and there is a student teacher and she is in charge today. Every morning they go over 5 vocab words. She mispronounced two of them. Oh jeez, come on, these are FIFTH GRADE VOCAB WORDS! The ones she mispronounced were compartmentalize and irrepressible. <br />
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Why don't I have a job? Am I WORSE than this? I don't think so. I mean I know I make mistakes, but not glaring ones like painting whole neighborhoods of cities with a racist brush and mispronouncing common <em>assigned vocabulary</em> words. Maybe I need to <em>apply</em> for jobs to get one. Hmmm.Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-86184903030974649702011-02-02T20:54:00.000-08:002012-02-24T20:57:22.279-08:00Why I Love Third Graders<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I have been teaching in a third grade class all week. I love them. They are so fun and cute. Sure, they have their annoying moments, like the three (or five) kids I call "the questioners" (in my head) because they walk up to ask me a question about absolutely everything. Like this: </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Questioner: Mrs. Lindahl, what do we do with our papers when we are done?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: What have you been doing with your papers when you finish them from the beginning of the year?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Questioner: Put them in the done basket?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: Yes.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Or:</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Questioner: Mrs. Lindahl, what time are we having lunch today?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: What time do you have lunch every day?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Questioner: 11:45?</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Me: Yes. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Today we brought the kids on a field trip, which is usually a sub's NIGHTMARE because what if you don't know the kids in the class? What if you don't know the logistics of the field trip? What if the field trip is to a swamp with kindergarteners, and you only wore some cute little maryjane shoes, not knowing that you were going to be fishing kindergarteners out of a freezing swamp most of the morning? See what I mean? (seriously, it really happened, but they didn't call it a swamp, they called it a "nature center." It was a swamp.)</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Our field trip today was to the symphony and it was so fantastic! There were about 2000 kids there and the program was geared to the elementary school student. The kids had a great time and so did I. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Anyway, one of the reasons I love third graders so much is because they are so weird. I told them yesterday that it is customary to wear nice clothes to the symphony. A girl came this morning, worried, and said to me, "Mrs. Lindahl, is it okay if I keep my sweatshirt on at the symphony today because I forgot to take off my pajama shirt when I was getting dressed." She was wearing a pajama shirt, dress pants, and a sweatshirt. How adorable is that?!</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">All week a bunch of them have been singing the words "salty nuts" in a very dissonant, sing-song voice. It seemed a little strange, and slightly inappropriate, but I didn't say anything because I liked it, and obviously it is something they learned in school. I learned about it today. At the symphony the trumpet player talked about Dizzy Gillespie and how he wrote a song called "Salt Peanuts" and they played it for us. Ohhhhhh! </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Salt Peanuts!</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> I'm sure glad I didn't say anything about the inappropriateness of singing "salty nuts" and then having to explain to nine-year-olds why I find the words salty nuts inappropriate. (</span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Salty%20Nuts" style="color: #0492ff; text-decoration: none;">Here's why.</a>)</i><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I got a picture from a student today (I get pictures every day), and this one just sums up the wonderful weirdness of the typical third grader. Here it is:</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-0vDg1evO_wA/TW7LnkjDTpI/AAAAAAAACy4/PjQttkygCAI/s1600/4.img130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #0492ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="494" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-0vDg1evO_wA/TW7LnkjDTpI/AAAAAAAACy4/PjQttkygCAI/s640/4.img130.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; border-width: initial; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; position: relative;" width="640" /></a></div><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">It's a picture of a girl and her giant dog, Bob. Bob is apparently 100 feet tall and judging by his eyebrow and his speech bubble, he's not a very friendly 100 foot dog. A squirrel (squerl, OMG!) is talking with the girl and complimenting her 100 foot, growling, angry dog. Okay, for one thing, why would anyone want a 100 foot dog. Can you imagine the poops? Yuck. And another thing, why is that masochistic squirrel anywhere near a hundred foot, angry dog, and where did it learn to speak English? It doesn't look like Bob is tied to anything, so I imagine that in the split second after the snapshot of this picture, the squerl was torn to gory shreds.</span>Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-19758114427032530642011-01-23T08:32:00.001-08:002012-03-15T08:33:41.940-07:00NoisyI worked last week in a second grade room and they were so noisy and out of control I lost my voice by the end of the day. That hasn't happened in a while! The only way they would listen to a word I said was if I made them sit in their desks and put their heads down. Otherwise it was like I was talking and nobody could hear me. I had a microphone and had it turned up as high as it would go without giving feedback. You know what, School District? Thirty three 7 year olds is too many kids for one small, echo chamber of a classroom. I don't know how the regular teacher can stand it. I'm still recovering. This week I have to do a day and a half of kindergarten, half a day of 1st grade and a day of third grade. I'm not looking forward to it. This is the same kindergarten class that I taught last time when the kid stuck his hand in his mouth and puked down his arm. YUCK.Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-55697655808173561262010-12-16T09:17:00.002-08:002012-03-15T09:19:16.116-07:00Child AbuseThat title is misleading. Nobody was abusing children today. Children were abusing me. I got called in last minute to teach kindergarten. I rushed through showering and making my lunch and got there to relieve the teacher who was feeling terribly sick.<br />
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There were six kids absent today because there is some kind of horrible bug going around. Ten minutes into class, I was reading a story and somebody stopped me to tell me, "Brady is puking!" I looked at Brady and he had his fingers in his mouth and was puking down his arm, all over his lap, all over the rug. Endlessly puking. Gallons of puke. It was so so so gross. When he finally stopped, I gave him some paper towels and sent him to the nurse with a helper. Then I called the janitor to come and clean it up. He came in to survey the damage and one kid said, "Hi, Bob," then every kid said, "Hi, Bob!" and wouldn't stop saying it until he said hi to each one individually, but I think he freaked out a little because he gave up on that after about five kids and bee-lined it for the door which only made the crazy little bastards say, "HI, BOB!" with more and more desperation. It was like a whole classroom full of Chuckie dolls. Ask Bob, I bet he'd agree with me.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aiHDgCOlHjI/TQqqz6_3WpI/AAAAAAAACtE/2b4zMt3RkNI/s1600/childs-play-3-12-talking-chucky-doll-270-p.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aiHDgCOlHjI/TQqqz6_3WpI/AAAAAAAACtE/2b4zMt3RkNI/s320/childs-play-3-12-talking-chucky-doll-270-p.jpg" width="194" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Hi, Bob, Hi Bob, HI BOB!</i></b></span></div><br />
Bob cleaned up the disgusting mess, Brady went home and we got on with the business of kindergarten. Things went smoothly until it was recess time and I was zipping jackets and when I was bending down to zip a girl's coat, she sneezed a very wet, productive sneeze all over my face. ALL OVER MY FACE! I wanted to shriek and dance around and say, "GROSS GROSS GROSS GROSS GROSS!!!" but I didn't. I said, in a sweet sing-song kindergarten teacher voice, "remember to cover your mouth when you sneeze!"<br />
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After lunch they came back in and had rest time, which would more appropriately be name<i>d watch-your-classmates-and-tattle-on-them-for-not-resting-every-second</i> time. Not very restful.<br />
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I got through the afternoon without being too horribly grossed or freaked out until it was time to get ready to go home and I was helping them pack their crap into their backpacks. Oh My Dear Sweet Lord some of those backpacks are gross! I can't even tell you how much unidentifiable crusty crap I had to avoid while zipping and unzipping backpacks. What <i>is</i> that stuff? Food? Snot? Whatever it was, it was gross. Hey parents, backpacks can be <i>washed.</i>Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-25716662560373760312010-12-02T20:53:00.001-08:002012-02-24T20:54:33.692-08:00I need a new job<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I think I need to find a job. I'm really starting to hate subbing. For one thing, I think that all the laid-off teachers have started subbing and are getting all the decent jobs because when I do get called to sub, the job description is something like this:</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Job # 12345 7:30-3:45</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">-Start at Central High for Mr. So-and-so. Teach 1st hour special ed. in resource room. (question: where the fuck is the resource room?) Teach 2nd hour Consumer Science (fancy name for home ec.) in room 153. (walking down hallway, see rooms 152, 154. There is no 153. After walking about a mile looking for it because it MUST BE by 152, learn that for some inexplicable reason it is on the second floor. ??? Oops! Clerical error! We meant </span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><strong>2</strong></em><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">53! lol!) Walk in late, flustered and sweaty. Read lesson plans and learn that you have to supervise thirty-five 16-year-olds making flan. (what the fuck is</span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> flan</em><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">?)</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">-Go to STC (Where the hell is that? Oh, it's across the 15 acre ice-rink parking lot? I wonder how many times I will fall.) Teach 3rd hour remedial math for Mrs. Whats-her-face in a freezing cold totally isolated classroom with 15 boys who look like they want to kill you and make your skin into a suit. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">-Drive to East High School. Teach 5th and 6th hour for Mr. Blahblahblah in room 353. Yes, the school in fact </span><em style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">does </em><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">happen to be 95 degrees! How did you guess? BTW Mr. Blahblahblah is a slob and won't have any lesson plans for you. Good luck!</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">-Drive back to Central. Babysit an 8th hour study hall that has a student teacher. Sure, it's a total waste of time but what do you care? You're getting paid an almost poverty-level wage no matter what you teach so quit your bitching!</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Or even worse:</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Job # 23456 7:30 - 3:30</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Any Elementary School: All day</span><a href="http://linda075blog.blogspot.com/2010/11/kindergarten-insane-asylum.html" style="background-color: white; color: #0492ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-decoration: none;"> kindergarten</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">(Actually, I taught in kindergarten yesterday and it wasn't so bad. The kids were very cute. I was wearing a red jacket and one little girl came up to me and said, "I like your jacket," and on the word "jacket" she poked me hard, dead-center in both boobs with her tiny monkey fingers.) </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I think I want to find a job that pays a lot of money, has low expectations, is part-time, where I won't have to drive around all day or get sexually assaulted by small children. Is that too much to ask?</span>Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-13954709697934829102010-11-10T20:28:00.000-08:002012-02-24T20:29:25.202-08:00Kindergarten = Insane Asylum<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I am subbing at one of my favorite schools today, in the morning for a fifth grade teacher and in the afternoon for a kindergarten teacher. Fifth grade was a breeze. Fun, easy, rewarding. I felt like I was really something special after that. Teacher of the year! </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Then I came into this kindergarten class and they are slowly but surely eating me alive. This may be the last thing I ever write because they are at lunch right now and I only have another 15 minutes until they get back. I forgot how fucking crazy kindergarteners are. As soon as their teacher left, we were doing an activity on the smartboard, putting pictures that started with S next to the big S and putting pictures that started with M next to the big M (easy). They started arguing with each other about who was going to get to pick which picture, and who was in line first, and who got to be in line first last time blah blah blah.... pandemonium. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">We finished that awful activity and then we went to the gym to play Duck Duck Goose. Total chaos. The "it" person would go around the circle and touch each person's head and say "duck" but you could always tell when they were about to goose someone because it went like this: duck...., duck.., duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, Duck, Duck, DUCK,</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">DUCK</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">, </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: large;">DUCK</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">, </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">DUCK!</span></b></i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">, with each new kid getting slapped just a little harder in the head until someone got goosed, I mean</span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>GOOSE</b></span></i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">d</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>!!!</i></b></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> and then those two were running around the whole gym like a couple of maniacs, and the Goose person would go after the It person with such a vengeance that when the It person finally got tagged by the Goose person the It person usually fell on the floor from the sheer force of five-year-old excitement/gooseslap-rage. Holy shit! Calm down, people! And THEN the people who were tagged were supposed to sit inside the yellow circle, but they wouldn't stay there. If I turned my back they would slide their little bodies out of the circle and try to trip the Goose person and the It person when they were running around like maniacs. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Then we had to go to the bathroom and there was almost a class brawl while they argued about if they are supposed to line up next to the wall, or on the black line. First of all, I didn't see any black lines anywhere, so I don't know what the hell they were talking about, and second of all, just line the fuck up and shut your toothless little traps! </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">And then we came back to the classroom and they were supposed to have center time. It was total chaos trying to tell them what to do at each of the four centers. When I'd go to help one center, the three I wasn't at would start yelling poop and pee words and laughing hysterically (it was kind of funny) and wouldn't do their center activity. One kid had to sit in time-out because he instigated the whole poop conversation amongst his peers and whipped them into a poop/fart/pee frenzy. (</span><a href="http://kadyhexum.blogspot.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #0492ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-decoration: none;">Kady</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">, you would have been in hysterics.) I have to go pick them up now. Farewell...</span><br />
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<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: center;">****************************************</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;">I'm home now. I survived the afternoon. I have a headache of massive proportions. After lunch went better than before lunch. The most alarming thing about those little people is that they really like me. <i>Why???</i> I try to be a hardass and make them a little afraid of me, but they won't be intimidated. When I was standing in front of them when they were lining up to go to the bathroom, the kids in the front were petting my stomach fat with their tiny monkey hands, and telling me how beautiful I am and how beautiful my clothes are yadda yadda yadda, and when I walked them down the hall the line leader held my hand. Then the fat kid couldn't get his pants unbuttoned so I had to do it, then he couldn't get them buttoned so I had to do it, and whenever I would turn my eyes away, another one was running away, or getting in trouble. </div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;">One girl lost her tooth during story time and wanted me to hold up her disgusting bloody little tooth-stump and show the class. Gross. </div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;">The worst part was at the end of the day when we were getting ready to leave. The teacher didn't give me any directions about what time to get them started, or her procedures for having them get their stuff on or anything, so I was basically winging it and gave them 15 minutes to get their stuff on. About a third of the class was ready in two minutes and then standing in line causing problems, another third took about ten or fifteen minutes (and were causing problems while they were dressing), and then the last third were making me sweat because they hadn't even located their jackets by the time the bell rang and it was time to get on the bus. </div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;">One kid said he was mad at his classmates for some reason so he just wasn't getting ready to go home. Um, what? I said,<span style="font-size: medium;">"<b>YOU'RE GOING TO MISS THE BUS</b>!" </span> He didn't care. </div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;">But then mixed in with the utter chaos were moments where they were so cute I could barely stand it. During their story (Over the River and Through the Woods) there was a picture of a woman rolling out dough with a rolling pin. I asked them what they thought she was making and one kid said, "Cookies!" another one said, "Pumpkin pie!" and a third said, "Green beans!" another said, "Chicken!" which led to this argument:</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;">Kid 1: You don't <i>make</i> chicken, you<i> kill</i> it!</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;">Kid 2: Well, if you don't have a chicken to kill, then you just make it. </div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;">Kid 1: ...Oh, okay. </div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;">They were talking about their class "tuwkey" named Albuquerque and they told me that he gets a new feather every day they are really good. He had some really nice, shiny, foil feathers. They really wanted a yellow one today, hint hint... </div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: left;">Ha ha... revenge is sweet. TFB, Albuquerque. </div>Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-11248879155490619682010-08-24T07:33:00.003-07:002012-03-15T07:34:15.688-07:00Substitute Teacher OrientationI had mandatory substitute orientation today. There are about 350 - 400 subs in this district and we all meet in an auditorium and have a series of 45 minute presentations by different departments. Most of the information is completely irrelevant to substitute teaching, or to teaching in general.<br />
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The first 45 minute period was dedicated to learning about blood borne pathogens. The gist of it was this: no matter how badly you want to stick your hands all over the snotty blood from the kid with the bloody nose and rub it all over your cuts; try to resist. It's not sanitary.<br />
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The second 45 minute period was dedicated to special education. The presenter, Imminent Heart Attack, had a buzz cut and was built like a rock on toothpicks and he was wearing a polo shirt with a tie and he was sweating profusely. I didn't really listen to him because I never take special ed. jobs. Most of them would be fine to do because they are usually in resource rooms reading tests or whatever, but there is about a one in a thousand chance that I might have to change the diaper of a 150 pound severely retarded high school student. To that I say, "no fucking way." It's too risky so I don't take any special ed jobs. Imminent Heart Attack kept talking about the "meat and potatoes" of special ed. Judging by the fact that he was out of breath his entire presentation, I think he should maybe focus more on the "leafy greens" of special ed., or the "crudité" of special ed., or the "brisk walks" of special ed. <br />
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The next presenter was Internet Hater. Her official title with the district is Prevention Specialist and she is mainly supposed to deal with bullying. The gist of her presentation was this: "Kids these days........ (sad shaking of head. Sigh.)" Her main idea was how toxic technology is to kids and people in general. (Ironically, she had a very high tech power point presentation to go along with it.) She gave us anecdotal evidence like this: "Three kids were set <i>on fire</i> last year," which got many ohs and ahs from the subs, but she failed to explain how it was related to technology (unless she thinks lighters are high tech), or where it happened, or why. My feeling is this; there are about 6 or 7 billion people on the earth and if only three kids got set on fire all of last year, that's pretty good. After her presentation she got <i>TWO</i> big applauses from the audience, which apparently means that it's not hard to whip a bunch of virtually unemployable teachers into a frenzy by vilifying the internet in general.<br />
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The next presenter was the district technology guy (Tech-guy). (Ha ha, Tech-guy, you had to follow Internet Hater!) Every year they have a technology presentation, to which they only allot 15 minutes because all he has to tell us is how to get on district email, but it is always filled with about 40 minutes of inane technology questions which are all slightly varied versions of this: "I don't have a computer because I'm a total Luddite and I'm done learning anything new, and I refuse to jump into the 21st century because I'm not going to spend money on something I'm<i> pretty sure</i> is just a passing fad, and I was wondering how you are going to accommodate me and my ignorance and bull-headedness?"<br />
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This year the 40 minutes of Tech-guy's presentation was mostly a primer on how to use Facebook, stupid questions, and Tech-guy rolling his eyes and looking at people like "Are you fucking serious?" It was my favorite part, just like every year.<br />
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The entire orientation is supposed to last four hours but it always goes long, mostly because of the stupid questions during the technology presentation, but this year there was a woman in the audience who, I counted, asked ELEVEN questions. I call her Lispy the Questioner because she had a lisp and asked a lot of long, wordy questions like this: "It'th been my exthperienth in the patht that thubthtitute teacherth don't get keyth to the roomth. What are we thuppothed to do in a lock down thituation?" But waaaaaay longer. I started counting when she had already asked three questions during the blood borne pathogen presentation.<br />
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I listed Wet Head as a major player because I usually call her "Wet Head the Questioner" but Lispy took over that role this year. Wet Head is a woman I run into quite a bit and I call her Wet Head (to myself) because she has thick longish hair that I swear she must not towel dry <i>at all</i> when she gets out of the shower because when she gets to school her hair is still dripping wet and plastered to her head, and her shirt is drenched. She always has her arms crossed like she has a chill which I'm sure she does because of her wet shirt. She' so <b><i>weird</i></b>.<br />
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So now school has officially started for me and the rest of the weirdos who sub in Duluth. Have a great year, Weirdos!Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-87025393809993918602010-05-11T09:27:00.003-07:002012-03-15T09:28:50.317-07:00I'm gonna be a Pilot!Minnesota legislators are soon going to<a href="http://www.educationminnesota.org/en/news/edmnupdates/2010/043010-altlicensure.aspx"> vote on a bill</a> that would allow people with a four year degree, but no teacher training, become teachers! You could spend four years in college, get a degree in underwater basket weaving and then get out and teach school! All you will have to do is take a 200 hour crash course in teaching. (I was a real sucker for taking<i> over four years </i>to learn to be a teacher. It apparently only takes five weeks.)<br />
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The second having to have a license or any kind of specific training to practice a profession is moot, I think I will try out all kinds of things, why not! I have a four-year degree! I can do anything!<br />
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The first thing I'm going to do is become a nurse. RNs have four-year degrees, I have a four-year degree, therefore, according to the Minnesota legislature, I could probably do a decent job of being a nurse. I want some scrubs. I'm kind of squeamish though so as soon as bodily fluids come into play, I'm outta there. Kind of like when I joined track in high school to get the cool sweatsuit, but then learned I was expected to run. Every day. Yeah, right.<br />
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Then I think I'll be an electrician. I use electricity literally <i>all the time</i>. I'm an electricity expert; flip switch up: on. Flip switch down: off. I'm trained (enough)! I have a bachelor's degree in education. I'm educated. If I'm educated, I can do anything, right? All that's been in my way are these pesky licenses!<br />
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Need anything rewired?<br />
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Oh, you know what I'd really like to do? Fly commercial airliners! I'm sure that YEAR LONG course I suffered through,<i> Methods and Materials of Teaching Secondary English</i> will really help out with takeoff and landing. Once I get my job being a pilot, flying will be much more pleasant. Trips go by so much faster when I'm the driver. I have lots of experience driving a car, and a little bit driving a boat, and I actually took over the yolk (that's what they call it) in a small plane and controlled it myself once for about five minutes (<i>actual</i> flying experience). I'm totally qualified.<br />
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Then I think I'll become an architect for a while. I live in a building, I go in buildings all the time, I've built Sims houses. I could do it. I'm qualified because I have a bachelor's degree, and more importantly, I BELIEVE I could be an architect although I have a degree in English Education; just like some Minnesota legislators believe that anyone with a four-year degree can walk into a classroom and teach 30 kids. Easy.<br />
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If this bill passes and you can do ANYTHING with your four-year degree, what do you want to do?Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-2335299315074486922010-04-28T07:46:00.003-07:002012-03-15T07:46:50.603-07:00Hellfire as an Educational ToolI've been subbing in high schools yesterday and today. For all you bloggers out there who have had comments from me two seconds after you posted, don't be creeped out, I'm bored and I'm just staring at Google reader waiting for something new to happen.<br />
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High school subbing is like war, or policework. It's incredibly boring with brief moments of terror, then it's boring again. Most of the teachers tell me to take attendance, then give them a worksheet and let them work. Zzzzzzz..... Excuse me, I AM a teacher you know, fully licensed and everything, I COULD teach them something. Wait, what? Math class? Oh forget what I said, give me the worksheet.<br />
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Yesterday I taught at the good high school with the nice kids in the "bad" part of town and it was great, and today I'm at the shitty high school on the hill. It's amazing how schools with basically the same kids can be so different. Third period seemed to last 47 hours because the kids were so OBNOXIOUS. Not only that, but there was a newly-graduated-from-college-with-a-degree-in-teaching, middle-aged woman who was subbing for the aide. She had all kinds of ideas for me for getting them to behave like human beings. "Maybe if you tried [this]... maybe if you tried [that]. How about this: they know what they are supposed to do, I spelled it out in excruciating detail and if they choose to act like animals I will just write their names down and let their teacher deal with it tomorrow.<br />
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When I was a full-time teacher I threatened the kids with torture and grim death if they were mean to the sub. If I got a bad report, for the forseeable future the offending students were MISERABLE because their teacher (me) was an unbearable HARPY-DEMON FROM HELL.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aiHDgCOlHjI/S9h9bweBf4I/AAAAAAAAB4Q/nL9uPXs42yg/s1600/image_class_demon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aiHDgCOlHjI/S9h9bweBf4I/AAAAAAAAB4Q/nL9uPXs42yg/s1600/image_class_demon.jpg" tt="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">You called Mrs. Larsen a <i>What?</i></span></b></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I would make them write letters of apology to the sub, then they would write humiliatingly detailed letters to their parents telling of their behavior for the sub (lots of good writing and rewriting practice), there would be a review of their contract for going to the school (alternative high school), there would be CONSTANT, IRRITATING reminders of how they acted last time there was a sub. Sometimes after this happened I would come to school and tell them that I was terribly sick, but I didn't want to subject another sub to them (you know, because of what happened<b><i> last </i></b>time...) so I was just going tough it out (cough cough). Too bad, because I really should be home in bed (cough cough). I hope I don't get pneumonia, (cough cough). And then I'd turn into the devil and give them a day so painful that they would have gladly pooled their money and paid any moron off the street to be their sub and treat them like royalty.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aiHDgCOlHjI/S9iCwWIoPCI/AAAAAAAAB4U/AHTtl6b2P2w/s1600/evil-demon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aiHDgCOlHjI/S9iCwWIoPCI/AAAAAAAAB4U/AHTtl6b2P2w/s320/evil-demon.jpg" tt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Don't you wish you had a sub instead?</span></b></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>It didn't take them long to learn that if a sub gave me a good report they were lavished with rewards and if not; utter, unending hellfire. Usually just once. Then I'd get glowing, wonderful notes about how great my classes were with every sentence ending with an exclamation point. What wonderful students! How helpful! How kind! What a pleasant surprise! Call me anytime!<br />
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I have two more classes today and I'm counting the minutes until the last bell rings. Tomorrow 3rd Graders! Yay!Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2318961091516841904.post-6740016172248265942010-04-16T20:29:00.001-07:002012-02-24T20:31:27.654-08:00Eighth Graders<h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 30px; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0.75em; position: relative;">Eighth Graders</h3><div class="post-header" style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.6; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-5303323707699608451" style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 850px;">This is the second day of subbing for eighth graders. These are some of the best eighth grade classes I've had while subbing, but still, they are soooooo mean and obnoxious. I am convinced that the 14 year old human male is the meanest living being on the planet, right above the Honey Badger who loves to eat beehives, scorpions and porcupines (troublemakers).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aiHDgCOlHjI/S8hzQf--JhI/AAAAAAAAB2Q/qt0iOe77C8A/s1600/3663184-m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #0492ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aiHDgCOlHjI/S8hzQf--JhI/AAAAAAAAB2Q/qt0iOe77C8A/s320/3663184-m.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; border-width: initial; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; position: relative;" wt="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Nature's eighth grader</span></b></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium;">This is what I mean: Yesterday during MCA testing, which is a big deal and has to be administered the same way throughout the state, the boys did everything they could to make it difficult. Every day of testing the administrator is supposed to read a set of instructions to the class. No exceptions! It's like miranda rights or something. I had to do it, but regardless of telling them that I know they'd probably heard it before, and please just listen patiently because I <i>had</i> to read it; after every instruction there was a<i>different</i> boy who said, "We've heard this before," and then there were a series of laughs from the other boys. </div><div style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium;">They can have candy and gum during the test. The school actually gave them each a piece of taffy and every time my eyes were off the class, I could see from my peripheral vision, taffy wrappers flying across the room. Many of the kids had their own gum. I can see now why teachers don't let kids have gum. I bet I heard 25,000 impossibly loud snaps of gum yesterday. </div><div style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium;"><br />
</div>During the MCA test, when a student finished a section, they were supposed to raise their hand and I was supposed to come over and put an orange sticker sealing the section off. There were a few boys who would raise their hands and then when I came over with the sticker, they would say, "I'm just stretching." Then they'd do it again and again and again. Why? Just to be annoying, that's why.<br />
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The kids had two hours to do two sections of the test. All the eighth graders in the building were testing at the same time and if they had to leave their room to use the bathroom, I was supposed to call an escort to bring them. I told them before the testing started to go to the bathroom if they had to go. None did. During testing 8 boys (no girls) needed me to call an escort to go to the bathroom. EIGHT. And they wouldn't make it convenient for the escort at all. She would come to get one, then when she brought him back she would ask if there was anyone else. There never was until about five minutes later when she had gone all the way back to the office. Then another boy would have to go. <br />
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After everyone was done with the test, there were about 45 minutes left of testing time and I had to keep them in the room and keep them quiet. I gave them a ball and told them to play silent-ball, which is a popular middle-school game. They couldn't handle it. They would toss the ball a few times and then one of the boys would rifle it at the class nerd as hard as he could. The second time a nerd got nailed with the ball I took it away and made them sit down with their heads on their desks. <br />
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I see now why wars throughout history were fought with teenage boys. They would drive the adults crazy to the point where the adults would find a reason to start a war and send the boys off to fight it. Did you know that Alexander the Great's father sent him away to school to learn from Aristotle at the Temple of the Nymphs when he was <i>13</i>? And knowing what an enormous burden Aristotle was taking on, King Philip, Alexander's father, agreed to rebuild Aristotle's hometown of Stageira, (which Philip had razed) and to repopulate it by buying and freeing the ex-citizens who were slaves, or pardoning those who were in exile. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aiHDgCOlHjI/S8huXgQD7HI/AAAAAAAAB2A/QizNS_p5GBU/s1600/250px-Alexander_and_Aristotle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #0492ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="176" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aiHDgCOlHjI/S8huXgQD7HI/AAAAAAAAB2A/QizNS_p5GBU/s320/250px-Alexander_and_Aristotle.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; border-width: initial; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; position: relative;" width="320" wt="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Aristotle asking Alexander if he's really done with the section of the GCA test, and not just "stretching" again.</span></b></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium;">That's almost a fair trade for tutoring an aggressive 13 year old boy and his friends, but Philip got the better deal. My guess is that when Alexander was about 15 Aristotle was fed up, regardless of the deal with King Philip, and said something like, "Hey Alexander, the Thracians said you are gay," which, knowing how homophobic every teen boy is, made Alexander fly into a rage and he left to beat the Thracians down.</div><div style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium;"> </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aiHDgCOlHjI/S8hucp8xwUI/AAAAAAAAB2I/imR-XRj9E3k/s1600/Alexander_the_Great.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #0492ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aiHDgCOlHjI/S8hucp8xwUI/AAAAAAAAB2I/imR-XRj9E3k/s400/Alexander_the_Great.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; border-width: initial; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; position: relative;" width="400" wt="true" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium; text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Alexander the Great, history's meanest eighth grader</span></b></i></div><div style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium; text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></i></b></div><div style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium; text-align: left;">I think the <i>"Support Our Troops"</i> idea is relatively new. I would say it started about the same time soldiers had to be at least 18 to fight. At 18 they are just starting to come out of that unbearably irritating part of life, and we'd be sorry to see them hurt or killed. Before that happened I think the overwhelming feeling about the support of troops was, "Meh...whatev."</div></div>Sarah http://www.blogger.com/profile/14091395645226862871noreply@blogger.com0