Merry Christmas!
I'm a-typing from mah new iPhone! Whoo! Technology!
I have stories to tell, and time to tell them this week; but I shall wait for a larger, more-than-2-fingers-at-a-time keyboard.
For now, the happiest of wishes to you!
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
I Hope I Get It
After my last entry and all of the venting I've done over the phone to my family (sorry about that), I've been trying to think of something good that happened at school this week I could blog about. I don't want to only blog when I'm upset - that's not very nice to you lovely readers, nor does it make an accurate journal for me.
So... something good that happened at school.
Oh!
Yesterday I was handing out progress reports to students, and one girl in my 2nd period said, "Thank you" as she got hers.
Look, I know some of you dear readers are currently students (by the way, shout out to Jimmy Black and welcome to the blog), so will you do me a favor?
Will you please
1) remember that for every assignment you have to do at school, the teacher has to grade, like, over 100 of them?
and
2) Remember that they do that because they honestly want to help you learn.
and
3) Will you please thank your teachers next time you see them for taking that time to grade? Even if you don't mean it, do it for me. Trust me, we teachers don't hear it that much, and it's an easy way to help us have a better day.
I'm going to paste an email here from Ben (math teacher Ben). Not to be selfish, but I'm posting it for me - I know there are going to be more days ahead when I'll need to reread this message, and I want to put it somewhere easy to find. It means a lot to me.
"The faculty holiday dinner at Old Spaghetti Factory was last night. Everyone wanted to know how you were doing in Colorado. You recent blog post was fresh in my mind, and I tried to summarize the many struggles you've faced this year without bumming out the whole party. There is not one person on the faculty who worked with you that doesn't have tremendous admiration and respect for what you built and accomplished at [DPJH]. More than one person said that they knew they'd miss you but that they didn't realize the magnitude of your effect on the school until you were gone. On hearing of your frustrations, the most common response was that they were "devastated" to imagine you in your current situation. Your friends at [DPJH] still care about you, and that we are all pulling for you to find a job where you can do amazing things again and be the kind of teacher we all admired while you were there. I thought you'd want to know that."
So... something good that happened at school.
Oh!
Yesterday I was handing out progress reports to students, and one girl in my 2nd period said, "Thank you" as she got hers.
Look, I know some of you dear readers are currently students (by the way, shout out to Jimmy Black and welcome to the blog), so will you do me a favor?
Will you please
1) remember that for every assignment you have to do at school, the teacher has to grade, like, over 100 of them?
and
2) Remember that they do that because they honestly want to help you learn.
and
3) Will you please thank your teachers next time you see them for taking that time to grade? Even if you don't mean it, do it for me. Trust me, we teachers don't hear it that much, and it's an easy way to help us have a better day.
I'm going to paste an email here from Ben (math teacher Ben). Not to be selfish, but I'm posting it for me - I know there are going to be more days ahead when I'll need to reread this message, and I want to put it somewhere easy to find. It means a lot to me.
"The faculty holiday dinner at Old Spaghetti Factory was last night. Everyone wanted to know how you were doing in Colorado. You recent blog post was fresh in my mind, and I tried to summarize the many struggles you've faced this year without bumming out the whole party. There is not one person on the faculty who worked with you that doesn't have tremendous admiration and respect for what you built and accomplished at [DPJH]. More than one person said that they knew they'd miss you but that they didn't realize the magnitude of your effect on the school until you were gone. On hearing of your frustrations, the most common response was that they were "devastated" to imagine you in your current situation. Your friends at [DPJH] still care about you, and that we are all pulling for you to find a job where you can do amazing things again and be the kind of teacher we all admired while you were there. I thought you'd want to know that."
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
It Sucks To Be Me
It's finals time, so I'm facing a stack of grading I need to get done so I can help my students figure out what they can do for the end of the semester grades.
The thing is it's been a long, hard day. I've had to work really hard be the proverbial duck in a rainstorm - to let the rude comments; the exaggerated yawns and the girl who yelled out "This is boring!" while I was mid-sentence; the student who refused to do any work today, including the mandatory vocab test; the girls who were "just playing" in the hall and who slammed into me; the glares; the heads down; the eye-rolling; the nastiness; and the constant "you're bugging me, Miss, so screw you" verbal and non-verbal messages roll off my back. I'm trying really, really hard to keep smiling, to keep joking, to keep pretending I care about subjects and predicates and to keep believing that this is what I want to do.
Then, after school just now, I walked back to my room to tackle the grading and found that on the poster I had made for my classroom door, the one with my name and room number on it that welcomes my students to class with a cheery, colorful fabric background, right under my name someone wrote "sucks" in large, permanent letters.
And while I'm glad the person spelled it right, I lost whatever energy has been carrying me. I just want to get in my car and find some place to be where I don't feel like a rotten teacher and an unattractive person. I'm exhausted, and I don't know if I can get up from the mat and start swinging again.
But I promised I'd give them progress reports tomorrow.
The thing is it's been a long, hard day. I've had to work really hard be the proverbial duck in a rainstorm - to let the rude comments; the exaggerated yawns and the girl who yelled out "This is boring!" while I was mid-sentence; the student who refused to do any work today, including the mandatory vocab test; the girls who were "just playing" in the hall and who slammed into me; the glares; the heads down; the eye-rolling; the nastiness; and the constant "you're bugging me, Miss, so screw you" verbal and non-verbal messages roll off my back. I'm trying really, really hard to keep smiling, to keep joking, to keep pretending I care about subjects and predicates and to keep believing that this is what I want to do.
Then, after school just now, I walked back to my room to tackle the grading and found that on the poster I had made for my classroom door, the one with my name and room number on it that welcomes my students to class with a cheery, colorful fabric background, right under my name someone wrote "sucks" in large, permanent letters.
And while I'm glad the person spelled it right, I lost whatever energy has been carrying me. I just want to get in my car and find some place to be where I don't feel like a rotten teacher and an unattractive person. I'm exhausted, and I don't know if I can get up from the mat and start swinging again.
But I promised I'd give them progress reports tomorrow.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Thinking
One thing I like about middle-schoolers is the way you can tell exactly what they're thinking...
usually because they tell you. Sometimes it just creeps up, though.
For example, here's how one student answered the textbook question "In your opinion, why does the woman in the snow return every year to ride the same bus?"
3. I don't know what it is asking me hold on yes cause she had all four things and you know what they are
Sometimes, though, it's subtler. For example:
Me: standing at the board, pointing a a sentence Good! So if "grandpa" is the subject, then-
Boy Student: whispered to girl student two desks away, loudly enough to force me to cut off mid-sentence Hey! What does "obulousy" mean?
Girl Student: glares at Boy Student
Boy Student: still stage-whispering, oblivious to the fact that I and the entire class are now listening What? I really don't know!
Me: Give me the note, Eli.
Boy Student: stuffing note under desk I don't got a note, Miss.
Me: Eli.
Boy Student: hands me the note, which I read as I walk back to my desk to stash it. It says:
Girl's Handwriting: are we dateing?
Boy's Handwriting: IDK
Girl's Handwriting: how do you not no
Boy's Handwriting: IDK
Girl's Handwriting: Well Obulusly you don't want to be together so
And that's where I intercepted the note.
usually because they tell you. Sometimes it just creeps up, though.
For example, here's how one student answered the textbook question "In your opinion, why does the woman in the snow return every year to ride the same bus?"
3. I don't know what it is asking me hold on yes cause she had all four things and you know what they are
Sometimes, though, it's subtler. For example:
Me: standing at the board, pointing a a sentence Good! So if "grandpa" is the subject, then-
Boy Student: whispered to girl student two desks away, loudly enough to force me to cut off mid-sentence Hey! What does "obulousy" mean?
Girl Student: glares at Boy Student
Boy Student: still stage-whispering, oblivious to the fact that I and the entire class are now listening What? I really don't know!
Me: Give me the note, Eli.
Boy Student: stuffing note under desk I don't got a note, Miss.
Me: Eli.
Boy Student: hands me the note, which I read as I walk back to my desk to stash it. It says:
Girl's Handwriting: are we dateing?
Boy's Handwriting: IDK
Girl's Handwriting: how do you not no
Boy's Handwriting: IDK
Girl's Handwriting: Well Obulusly you don't want to be together so
And that's where I intercepted the note.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Empty Pockets Filled With Love
It was cold enough today that I pulled my long, wool coat out of the closet. As I walked to my garage this morning, I stuck my hands in my pockets.
I found a handful of cough drops in my left pocket. And in the right I found a folded piece of paper with a rough sketch of the "Mattress" set on one side, and a shopping list for things like "PVC pipe, 4 gallons brown paint, 140 yards gold ribbon, lute supplies, safety pins, 1 fake apple, etc." on the other.
I miss not getting ready for a show.
I found a handful of cough drops in my left pocket. And in the right I found a folded piece of paper with a rough sketch of the "Mattress" set on one side, and a shopping list for things like "PVC pipe, 4 gallons brown paint, 140 yards gold ribbon, lute supplies, safety pins, 1 fake apple, etc." on the other.
I miss not getting ready for a show.
Life Support
I am standing outside my classroom door Monday, greeting my students as they enter the room. One eighth-grade kid comes running up to me and says
Student: Miss! Isn't today AIDS Day or something?
Me: Yes. It's World AIDS Day.
Student: Holds out his hand Then where's my condom, Miss? Don't we all get free condoms today?
Student: Miss! Isn't today AIDS Day or something?
Me: Yes. It's World AIDS Day.
Student: Holds out his hand Then where's my condom, Miss? Don't we all get free condoms today?
Rat-tat-tat-tat
For Monday's classes, we read Mona Gardner's very short story, "The Dinner Party." Taking place in colonial India, it begins with an officer's wife suggesting that women have moved beyond the "jumping-on-a-chair-at-the-sight-of-a-mouse era". One of the colonels, of course, protests, saying that men have "that ounce more of nerve control." A debate ensues, a cobra is detected in the room, and the story ends with a nice twist.
It's a good filler activity, a story we can do in less than a whole period. Plus, sexism issues are always good for discussion, especially in middle school.
I consider myself a pretty creative teacher, which is probably why students are still discussing whether what happened Tuesday was my plan or not.
I began the class with a starter question about which gender handles crises better. The students wrote their answers, then we went around and checked in with their answers. There was some posturing and minor arguments as some students, mostly boys, claimed that the other gender was the weaker.
We were about 2/3 of the way through the students when Mikayla quietly and calmly said, "Hey, there's a mouse!"
I looked where she was pointing and saw a brown and grey-ish rat run from under the computer table in my room to under my desk at the front.
"Huh," I said, "So there is!"
Shrill screams rang out as six of the students climbed on top of their desks, shrieking.
All six were boys.
I called the front office, who called the janitor, who said he couldn't do anything about it, and about 6 minutes after we spied George-Bob (so named by my 5th period and me), I finally managed to calm the class down enough to continue the lesson.
After we pointed out the way one particular gender handled the crisis, that is.
It's a good filler activity, a story we can do in less than a whole period. Plus, sexism issues are always good for discussion, especially in middle school.
I consider myself a pretty creative teacher, which is probably why students are still discussing whether what happened Tuesday was my plan or not.
I began the class with a starter question about which gender handles crises better. The students wrote their answers, then we went around and checked in with their answers. There was some posturing and minor arguments as some students, mostly boys, claimed that the other gender was the weaker.
We were about 2/3 of the way through the students when Mikayla quietly and calmly said, "Hey, there's a mouse!"
I looked where she was pointing and saw a brown and grey-ish rat run from under the computer table in my room to under my desk at the front.
"Huh," I said, "So there is!"
Shrill screams rang out as six of the students climbed on top of their desks, shrieking.
All six were boys.
I called the front office, who called the janitor, who said he couldn't do anything about it, and about 6 minutes after we spied George-Bob (so named by my 5th period and me), I finally managed to calm the class down enough to continue the lesson.
After we pointed out the way one particular gender handled the crisis, that is.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Fixed
I changed the link in the post below so you can all enjoy Jon Stewart's singing.
You're welcome.
:)
You're welcome.
:)
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Can I Interest You in Hannukah?
This Christmas Special was hit and miss, but this song was my favorite.
Watch the whole song, if you can.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Hymn to a Sunday Evening
For no reason other than merriment, I give you
TV From My Childhood
For starters, of course, it has to be
Rainbow Brite
(Oh my goodness, the tinny music. My ears! My speakers!)
Chip 'N' Dale: Rescue Rangers
(I maintain still that is one of the best theme songs of the decade.)
Out of This World
Full House
(Yes. Sad to say, but yes, this one, too.)
Silver Spoons
Perfect Strangers
(I thought Balki was hilarious - look, he's stuck in a revolving door! Ha!)
(Hey, I was, like, 10. Don't judge me.)
Gummi Bears
(Gummiberry juice! Who knew Disney would endorse steroid abuse during the "Just Say No!" era?)
Square One TV
(This one gets two clips)
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
(I couldn't embed this video, but it's worth the link if only for the map with the flashing lights - oh, the memories!)
(Yes, I fully acknowledge my geekiness with my love of educational TV programming. This show rocked, though. I mean, the singers are called ROCKapella! How could they not be awesome?)
Punky Brewster
(Check out the cool girls' outfits - aren't they styling? I tried to find the two clips that are burned into my memories - Punky dropping an oyster down her shirt at a fancy dinner party and Cherie getting trapped in an abandoned refrigerator. Thanks to this show, I still have an underlying belief that suffocation in abandoned refrigerators is one of the top causes of death for children under the age of 16.)
Saved By the Bell
(This Very Special episode has Very Dramatic Acting.)
And just to remind you that there was some good TV shows in the 80's:
That's it for now - it's bedtime for me. I'll probably do a part deux. For now, though, how many of you could still sing along with all of those songs? Rachel?
TV From My Childhood
For starters, of course, it has to be
Rainbow Brite
(Oh my goodness, the tinny music. My ears! My speakers!)
Chip 'N' Dale: Rescue Rangers
(I maintain still that is one of the best theme songs of the decade.)
Out of This World
Full House
(Yes. Sad to say, but yes, this one, too.)
Silver Spoons
Perfect Strangers
(I thought Balki was hilarious - look, he's stuck in a revolving door! Ha!)
(Hey, I was, like, 10. Don't judge me.)
Gummi Bears
(Gummiberry juice! Who knew Disney would endorse steroid abuse during the "Just Say No!" era?)
Square One TV
(This one gets two clips)
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
(I couldn't embed this video, but it's worth the link if only for the map with the flashing lights - oh, the memories!)
(Yes, I fully acknowledge my geekiness with my love of educational TV programming. This show rocked, though. I mean, the singers are called ROCKapella! How could they not be awesome?)
Punky Brewster
(Check out the cool girls' outfits - aren't they styling? I tried to find the two clips that are burned into my memories - Punky dropping an oyster down her shirt at a fancy dinner party and Cherie getting trapped in an abandoned refrigerator. Thanks to this show, I still have an underlying belief that suffocation in abandoned refrigerators is one of the top causes of death for children under the age of 16.)
Saved By the Bell
(This Very Special episode has Very Dramatic Acting.)
And just to remind you that there was some good TV shows in the 80's:
That's it for now - it's bedtime for me. I'll probably do a part deux. For now, though, how many of you could still sing along with all of those songs? Rachel?
Friday, November 14, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Latin Chant
We are learning Latin root words in my classes today - port, capt, miss, flect, and so on.
Me: "Aqua" means water. What does "aqua" mean?
Students: Water!
Me: Good! So, we make waves with our arms while we say "aqua".
I demonstrate, students imitate, giggling.
Me: Excellent! What are some words that have "aqua" in them?
Kid #1: Aquamarine!
Me: Nice. Which means?
Kid #2: The color of water.
Me: Great. Other words?
Kid #3: Aqua Man!
Me: Yes! And what does he do?
Kid #3: Shoots water at people.
Me: Wonderful! And what do you call a room that holds water in it?
Kid #4: Waterhouse!
Much laughing.
Today's been a good day so far.
Me: "Aqua" means water. What does "aqua" mean?
Students: Water!
Me: Good! So, we make waves with our arms while we say "aqua".
I demonstrate, students imitate, giggling.
Me: Excellent! What are some words that have "aqua" in them?
Kid #1: Aquamarine!
Me: Nice. Which means?
Kid #2: The color of water.
Me: Great. Other words?
Kid #3: Aqua Man!
Me: Yes! And what does he do?
Kid #3: Shoots water at people.
Me: Wonderful! And what do you call a room that holds water in it?
Kid #4: Waterhouse!
Much laughing.
Today's been a good day so far.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Dirty Rotten Number
Words I can't say in my 8th grade classes, no matter the context, without eliciting snickers:
cherry
bosom
stacked
bed
hole
rub
hump
poke
climax
erect
elect
eject
ejection
wood
stiff
thrust
e.e. cummings
nuts
balls
I also can't spell any word that begins with the letters "a-p-p", either.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
The Apple Doesn't Fall
AARRGGHH!
All of my tension and frustration over the totally uncoraporative kids has set up camp in my neck and shoulder blades, so I'm typing this with horrible posture. I'm got a much-better articulated post in mind that I'll write later along these lines, but I just need to vent about the fact that
I AM SICK OF FEELING LIKE A BAD TEACHER BECAUSE OF SOCIETAL PROBLEMS AND STUDENT BEHAVIOR THAT ARE TOTALLY AND COMPLETELY OUT OF MY CONTROL!!!
For example.
I had our school translator call a parent this week to report the following consistent behaviors about her student:
So the translator makes the phone call and relays my message. Here's how her mother responded:
"This is not my daughter's fault. It is the teacher's responsibility as well."
The HELL? What, exactly, about this girl's behavior is my responsibility? And what the hell kind of favors do you think you are doing her by blaming ME for her crappy, immature, inept behavior?
And (while I'm at it), dear government, how in the world do justify holding ME accountable for this girl's choices? I'm not her psychologist, doctor, pharmacist, behavior specialist, police officer, counselor, parole officer, her father, or her mother. I'm her Language Arts teacher, damn it. And all I'm asking is for her to let me do my job.
All of my tension and frustration over the totally uncoraporative kids has set up camp in my neck and shoulder blades, so I'm typing this with horrible posture. I'm got a much-better articulated post in mind that I'll write later along these lines, but I just need to vent about the fact that
I AM SICK OF FEELING LIKE A BAD TEACHER BECAUSE OF SOCIETAL PROBLEMS AND STUDENT BEHAVIOR THAT ARE TOTALLY AND COMPLETELY OUT OF MY CONTROL!!!
For example.
I had our school translator call a parent this week to report the following consistent behaviors about her student:
- Refuses to sit in her assigned seat
- Refuses to do any work (seriously - it's been 3 months and I've seen maybe 2 assignments from the girl)
- Brings toys to class
- Spends the class period talking to those toys to entertain her friends and distract the other students
- Giggles, sings, hums, makes puppy whining noises, and talks to herself and her friends during the class
- Talks back to and/or yells at the teacher when asked to stop the above behaviors
So the translator makes the phone call and relays my message. Here's how her mother responded:
"This is not my daughter's fault. It is the teacher's responsibility as well."
The HELL? What, exactly, about this girl's behavior is my responsibility? And what the hell kind of favors do you think you are doing her by blaming ME for her crappy, immature, inept behavior?
And (while I'm at it), dear government, how in the world do justify holding ME accountable for this girl's choices? I'm not her psychologist, doctor, pharmacist, behavior specialist, police officer, counselor, parole officer, her father, or her mother. I'm her Language Arts teacher, damn it. And all I'm asking is for her to let me do my job.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Everybody's Got the Right
For the first time in my voting life, MY VOTE COUNTED!!!
I like living in Colorado. :)
I like living in Colorado. :)
Monday, November 03, 2008
Under the Sea
For my parents:
(via BB-Blog)
(Yes. I am absolutely procrastinating the work I brought home. Enjoy the fruits of my non-labors.)
(via BB-Blog)
(Yes. I am absolutely procrastinating the work I brought home. Enjoy the fruits of my non-labors.)
It's Just The Gas
My afternoon, once school let out, began with 8 phone calls home. Two were for neutral issues - standard updates on students. The others were to inform parents of students' misbehaviors. So that should give you some idea of how my 5th period went today.
I had planned on a long afternoon at school, since I needed to write up my lesson plans for the week, rewrite my curriculum maps (I have a meeting with one of the curriculum coaches tomorrow), and do other such things that are meant to, you know, make me a better teacher.
You know what would make me a better teacher? Getting home in time to exercise, cook dinner, and get to bed at a decent hour!
Ahem.
Anyway, I was working away when the assistant principal dropped by to return one of my dictionaries to me. He warned me, as he brushed off the cover, not to "smell it too closely".
I arched a curious eyebrow at him.
"You know, unless you want to drive home a little..." he trailed off, miming a stoned driver.
"Ah!" I said. "So that's why there were cops in the hallway after school."
"Yes," he said, "the kid apparently 'forgot' he had that baggie in his backpack."
The AP set the dictionary up on a desk near me, and after we chatted for a bit, he took off to GO HOME. Freaking annoying.
Anyway, after the AP left, I resumed working on my lesson plans.
About 10 minutes later, I noticed a strange smell. Boy, I thought, the AP must not have been exaggerating about the drugs spilling onto that book!
(NOTE: I do not have a very strong sense of smell, nor am I good at identifying drug smells.)
A bunch of kids spilled into the hallway from basketball practice, making a terrific amount of noise. One of the rattled the gate that separated them from the classrooms and their lockers and yelled "Miss!... Miss!"
"What?!" I yelled back, while typing.
"Come unlock the gate and let me run to my locker!"
"No!" I yelled, continuing to work.
About 5 minutes later, the secretary got on the PA and announced, "Anyone left in the building needs to leave immediately."
Thank goodness, I thought. The kids will leave and I won't have to go out there and deal with them!
About 10 minutes after that, I grabbed a workbook and headed to the office to make copies. I let myself through the gate, crossed the hall towards the gym that connects my side of the building to the office, and smiled politely at the two firemen standing at the door outside, with axes over their shoulders and some kind of monitors aimed at the ceiling.
"Uh.. Ma'm?" I heard as I opened the door to the gym.
"Yes?" I said, stepping back out into the hallway.
"You need to leave the building. Now."
"Okay..." I said, looking out the window past them at the students and teachers and janitors and secretaries gathered on the dirt across the parking lot from the building. "Can I at least grab my purse?"
"No," he said. "Now."
"Okay." I headed out of the building, walked past all of the firetrucks and police cars surrounding the building with lights flashing, through the conversations about the gas leak, and joined some of my fellow teachers on the "lawn".
"You were in there this whole time?" Jessica asked, incredulous. "Didn't you smell the gas?"
....
When they let us back in the building, 20 minutes later, I grabbed my purse, threw my books into my bag, and headed home to do the work.
Maybe, one of these days, I should figure out what marijuana actually smells like.
I had planned on a long afternoon at school, since I needed to write up my lesson plans for the week, rewrite my curriculum maps (I have a meeting with one of the curriculum coaches tomorrow), and do other such things that are meant to, you know, make me a better teacher.
You know what would make me a better teacher? Getting home in time to exercise, cook dinner, and get to bed at a decent hour!
Ahem.
Anyway, I was working away when the assistant principal dropped by to return one of my dictionaries to me. He warned me, as he brushed off the cover, not to "smell it too closely".
I arched a curious eyebrow at him.
"You know, unless you want to drive home a little..." he trailed off, miming a stoned driver.
"Ah!" I said. "So that's why there were cops in the hallway after school."
"Yes," he said, "the kid apparently 'forgot' he had that baggie in his backpack."
The AP set the dictionary up on a desk near me, and after we chatted for a bit, he took off to GO HOME. Freaking annoying.
Anyway, after the AP left, I resumed working on my lesson plans.
About 10 minutes later, I noticed a strange smell. Boy, I thought, the AP must not have been exaggerating about the drugs spilling onto that book!
(NOTE: I do not have a very strong sense of smell, nor am I good at identifying drug smells.)
A bunch of kids spilled into the hallway from basketball practice, making a terrific amount of noise. One of the rattled the gate that separated them from the classrooms and their lockers and yelled "Miss!... Miss!"
"What?!" I yelled back, while typing.
"Come unlock the gate and let me run to my locker!"
"No!" I yelled, continuing to work.
About 5 minutes later, the secretary got on the PA and announced, "Anyone left in the building needs to leave immediately."
Thank goodness, I thought. The kids will leave and I won't have to go out there and deal with them!
About 10 minutes after that, I grabbed a workbook and headed to the office to make copies. I let myself through the gate, crossed the hall towards the gym that connects my side of the building to the office, and smiled politely at the two firemen standing at the door outside, with axes over their shoulders and some kind of monitors aimed at the ceiling.
"Uh.. Ma'm?" I heard as I opened the door to the gym.
"Yes?" I said, stepping back out into the hallway.
"You need to leave the building. Now."
"Okay..." I said, looking out the window past them at the students and teachers and janitors and secretaries gathered on the dirt across the parking lot from the building. "Can I at least grab my purse?"
"No," he said. "Now."
"Okay." I headed out of the building, walked past all of the firetrucks and police cars surrounding the building with lights flashing, through the conversations about the gas leak, and joined some of my fellow teachers on the "lawn".
"You were in there this whole time?" Jessica asked, incredulous. "Didn't you smell the gas?"
....
When they let us back in the building, 20 minutes later, I grabbed my purse, threw my books into my bag, and headed home to do the work.
Maybe, one of these days, I should figure out what marijuana actually smells like.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Poem
Some of you are aware of the new exercise I'm been doing this year in my English classes. It's called "The Reading Minute" (although, honestly, I hardly ever manage to keep it to just a minute), and I got the idea from this book.
Basically, 3 times a week I share something interesting I've read. Just an excerpt, usually. The kids copy down the name of the piece and the author, then use that information to write a short, 1-3 sentence summary of what I read to them. Simple, but they're getting tons of practice that way at summarizing AND they're being exposed to the many, many, many wonderful things that are out there to read. Because I'm trying desperately to get them to not hate reading.
I've shared a variety of things - a few parts of Twilight; excerpts from The Princess Bride, Love That Dog, Bronx Masquerade, and other YA books; poetry like "Child" by Sylvia Plath or "Bolivia" by Gwen Head; nonfiction like Anthony Bordain's account of eating a cobra heart; some internet articles and blog posts about inventions or interesting places to travel, and so on.
Today I shared this video for the Reading Minute (if you can't get it to work here, you can also watch it here):
It was one of the kids' favorites so far, and it's probably one of mine, too. Taylor Mali's dear to my heart, but this guy, Rives, might be a serious rival for my poet affections. Especially when I watched another of his poems here(that one's NSFW, though).
Basically, 3 times a week I share something interesting I've read. Just an excerpt, usually. The kids copy down the name of the piece and the author, then use that information to write a short, 1-3 sentence summary of what I read to them. Simple, but they're getting tons of practice that way at summarizing AND they're being exposed to the many, many, many wonderful things that are out there to read. Because I'm trying desperately to get them to not hate reading.
I've shared a variety of things - a few parts of Twilight; excerpts from The Princess Bride, Love That Dog, Bronx Masquerade, and other YA books; poetry like "Child" by Sylvia Plath or "Bolivia" by Gwen Head; nonfiction like Anthony Bordain's account of eating a cobra heart; some internet articles and blog posts about inventions or interesting places to travel, and so on.
Today I shared this video for the Reading Minute (if you can't get it to work here, you can also watch it here):
It was one of the kids' favorites so far, and it's probably one of mine, too. Taylor Mali's dear to my heart, but this guy, Rives, might be a serious rival for my poet affections. Especially when I watched another of his poems here(that one's NSFW, though).
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