My Menagerie

When people find out you're going to be a teacher, they buy you the most ridiculous (read: awesome!) things ever. Now, I already kind of have a love affair with school supplies, but this... this is like heaven.

In the last week, I've gotten some truly hilarious (and practical! Really!) items. My favorites:

Item #1: A bright blue, translucent elephant with suction cups on its feet. As if this wasn't cool enough (Come on. Who doesn't want a bright blue elephant to call their very own?), the elephant serves as both a paper shredder and a pencil sharpener! Ha! Genius.

Of course, you've got to stick the pencil in the elephant's forhead to sharpen it... which is a little weird. I feel like I'm stabbing him. It might have been a better idea to have his trunk curled up, so you could put the pencil in his mouth. Then it'd be more like eating.... or tonsil stabbing. I don't know. Anyhow, thanks to my dear friend Heather for this gift. She's fantastic.


Item #2: A fist-sized ladybug stapler, given to me by my phenomenal cooperating teacher. Where do people find these things? I'm a little afraid to bring this into my classroom, because some little punk might steal it. It's just so cool. On the other hand, the thing weights a metric ton, so if I might just keep it in my purse and use it to hit muggers. Always nice when your staplers have dual lives, don't you think?

By the time I start teaching I should have a whole menagerie of animal items that serve purposes other than looking adorable. I'm excited to build my zoo. Thank you so much for those who have contributed! :)

Puddle Jumping

I finished my finals. I'm done. Finished. Finally. It hasn't quite hit yet. Much as I bitch about this place, I'm going to miss it. There's nothing quite like running around the quad at 1:30 at night, playing frisbee and getting caught in the rain.

Which is exactly what I did. Intead of partying it up, I frolicked in the wet grass, giggling and dancing like a maniac, dodging past vindictive sprinklers and whipping a frisbee with so much style Paris Hilton would be jealous. Then, Mother Nature decided we were having too much fun, and decided to rain on our parade. Little does she know how much I like spring rain. So, I used my frisbee as a dashing little hat (told you I had mad style) and slowly meandered back home.

I think you've got to be a little bit of a kid to be a good teacher. I just hope my kids find as much joy rain dancing as they do playing those junky computer games. If not, I'll teach 'em! You WILL hop in puddles! You WILL climb trees! You WILL sing Disney songs on the top of your lungs!

Just... you know... do it at home. Your parents will love it. I promise.

Interview Anxiety

Well, that was odd.

The principal didn't ask me any questions. I was prepared to talk about anecdotal behavior notes and parental communication logs and use obnoxious words like "cooperative" and "interdisciplinary" and "differenciated," and blather on about my 5 year plan and my strenghts and weaknesses and.... *head explodes*

And... nothing! I sat there for about five minutes as he talked about the district and the surrounding area. I felt like a kid whose teacher keeps talking about nonsense before giving a big test. Just sock it to me already! But the sock never came. The only question he had for me was "Do you have any questions for me?"

After that, he basically told me that he'd talked to various teachers in the building, and the superintendant... and every person had a glowing review. He said that before he goes to the board with his recommendation, he has to make sure he interviews a couple other people, so that when they say "How do you know this person is the most qualified? How many others did you interview?" he has an answer other than "uhhh... well....."

And that was it. So, all of my anxiety was for nothing. I think. He didn't actually SAY I had the job... he just... made it sound like I did. I think. I'm confused. Let's hope all that the fact the lack of grilling was a good sign.

Mmm. Grilling. Now I'm hungry.

Keep your fingers crossed for me!

More Booty than Blackbeard (but less than Britney Spears)

My kids threw me a party! Lured me down to the office, decorated the classroom, and brought out a cake! They even turned off the lights and hid under their desks and screamed excitedly when I walked in the door. I couldn't have been happier. I felt like it was my birthday, darn it, and I was going to cry if I wanted to.

I did, however, manage to get myself under control until I got home with all my booty*.

When I walked in, the table was covered in gift bags. I couldn't believe it. I now have enough post-it notes to wallpaper my room. Crayons, dry erase markers, pencils, pens, highlighters, white out, a staple remover and stapler... you name it. Even a little green-haired troll doll wearing naught but a scarf. Exactly what I wanted! How did they know?

The rest of the time was spent talking, taking oodles of pictures and playing Heads Up 7 Up. God, I'm going to miss these kids. I know there are cool kids everywhere, but I still think mine are the best.

How many 12 year old boys talk about BEING swimsuit models, and then craft paper speedos that they tape to the front of their pants? How many tape pieces of paper to their chins saying "Bye Miss J! We'll miss you!"?. Just my weirdos. That's it.

I'll tell you one thing... it's good that we talked about flood safety, because if I don't get the job here, I'm going to pull an Alice in Wonderland on them. There will be a river of tears that could drown a manatee. Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

My interview is on Monday. I'll keep you posted.

Much Love!
Miss J

P.s. For added hilarity, note the middle caption of the lower picture. Supa Teacher, check. Breaker of Hearts, check. My work here is done.


* Not referring to my...assets. Also, not in any way relating to "booty call." Although, hilariously, a couple of the boys did leave me their phone numbers. And e-mail addresses. Ha!

It's my last day.


I'm not ready.

(Field) Trippin'

When you're a kid, there's nothing better than a field trip. If you've got to get up early and learn, you might as well go somewhere fun to do it! It's a day full of junk food and unnecessary flirting. Kids who are never at school show up for field trips. Kids who are never on time are there before anyone else. Kids who don't turn in signed papers under threat of death bring back their permission slips in record time. Field trips really bring out the best in some people. For the rest, it brings out the idiot.

Field trips are big fun. Unless you're not a kid. I'm not a kid. A fact I had forgotten. 60 6th graders parading around a tomb, and tromping through the museums is no delight when you're the one responsible for all of them. It's a little like trying to get a bunch of ants to walk in a straight line. Oh god, no, go this way. I have some sugar if you'll follow me nicely!! Damn it! Why aren't they following?



Highlights:
1. At one museum, there was a display of how rivers form. All of my kids ran to it going "Miss J! Look! It's a meander! It's a meandering river, look!" They then begged me to take their pictures by it. The other teacher's kids just looked at them like they were nuts. Jealousy, that's all it was...

2. One of my students created a squashed penny (of a wooly mammoth) for me. Aww yeah. Nothin' like spending 51 cents to legally destroy currency!

3. One delightful young lad pushed the emergency button on the escalator, causing it to stop abruptly, and another was messing with the emergency door on the bus while still in motion.... but other than that, no other Episodes of Idiocy.

4. In another museum, there was a historical dress up area. Did I let my kids cross-dress? Why yes, yes I did. Did I dress up and let them take my picture as well? You betcha. Did we get kicked out? Nope! Miracles DO happen.

All in all, a good day.

Day of Notes

Ahh yes. I forgot. Today was definitely the Day of Notes. The following 3 were ones given to me by my author of the Fredrick stories.

Note #1:

Miss J, I am sorry for telling you my name is Trae Hendricks. It is really Mu'an Tigger Woody.


Note #2:

Miss J, I am sorry for lying. It broke my heart. My real name is Trae Hendricks and I'm sorry for crumbling up the paper. It made me cry.


Note #3:

Miss J. I figured out my identity. I'm Trae Hendricks and I like tacos and Roli Polis, I squash them. Don't go crazy because I heard crazy people get mustaches and unibrows.

p.s. I am not afraid of tacos. I'm afraid of Roli Polis and something else.

p.p.s From Trae.


The illustration is one he made of me during the free period the last 10 minute of the day. Dashing, is it not? I'm not sure what that dead-spider looking thing is on my face, but hey. I'll go with it. After that, he was in a very creative mood, so he hiked his shorts up Urkel-style, as far as they could go. We had just been talking about floods in science, so I asked him if he was preparing for one.

"No Miss J. I'm making a fashion statement."
"Well, if that's true, you clearly need a hat."
"I do?"
"Yeah. You know how to make one out of newspaper?"
"I do!"
"Well, get to it then."
And of course, he did. Ready for the catwalk, he was. If only I had my camera.

Yesterday Burnin' Turkey, Today Rump Roast

And today's breaking news.....

I'm a fat ass!

That's right folks! You heard it here first. This 5'4" 120 pounder who enjoys long swims in shark infested waters is a grade A, FDA approved, fat ass! If you'd like to sink your teeth into a juicy piece of rump roast, you know who to call!

I had no idea. I'm so glad that I have these children to bring the truth to me. What would I do without them? Probably live a life of total denial. That might be nice. I'd like the ignorance combo #4 and a side of bliss please. Only $4.99? Great.

So, here's how it went down. I caught two of my (amazingly good) students passing a notebook back and forth. I am hip to the whole passing notes under the guise of lending a notebook thing (as I used to do it myself), so I figured I was in for some excellent entertainment. Turns out I was. Among other things, one of the girls (and again, let me say that they are some of my favorite students) called me "Fat Ass Jones."

My eyebrows nearly lifted right off my forehead. I managed to lift one eyebrow a little more, looked at the girls, tore out the note, plunked the notebook back on the desk and said calmly "Ohhhh yeah. You're so busted."

The two girls were eventually sent down to the principal's office, and now are unable to go to the field trip with us tomorrow. The one who specifically called me a tubby lard bottom is also suspended for a day. Wowza. They came back up to the room hysterical, bawling their eyes out, red-faced and amazingly apologetic. I accepted their apologies gracefully, told them I wasn't angry, just saddened and disappointed. Which, of course, made them cry a little harder.

Another one of my lovelies got into a brawl at gym, and now can't go with us tomorrow either. On the other hand, one of my students who is consistently a pain in my (you know what) was GOOD! Figure that one out. Something's in the air, and I'm not sure I like it. I do however, like what's on the menu.


Note: Don't worry. The above picture ISN'T of a student pinching my bippe.

Burning the Butterball

Did you know that I am totally obnoxious? It's true. This amazing observation was made by an 8th grade boy who's clearly an expert on the subject. Aside from being obnoxious, my other defining quality was that I "had big lips." Well, at least he got 1 outta 2 right.

Several of my lovely 6th grade girls ratted him out, but said they set him straight, telling him that I was awesome and that he should shut his mouth.

Of course, I was glad to have a phalanx of 6th grade girls on my side, but my own inner 6th grader wanted revenge. Kid talkin' smack about me, eh? To call me bitchy would have been disrespectful, but at least it would have been somewhat accurate. Obnoxious doesn't fit the bill at all. I had to set the record straight. It was time to go Judge Judy on his posterior.

The bell rang, and I walked my 6th graders out of the building. As we made our way down the stairs, one of my girls said "Miss J! There he is! The kid who said it!"

Ahh yes. Jake. Little semi-popular butterball who can't keep his mouth closed. Surrounded by a bunch of friends, trying to show off. Big stupid grin plastered to his face, like that kid in Matilda who eats the entire chocolate cake.

"Hey, Jake!" I called, raising my voice above the ruckus. His eyes met mine. He knew he was in for it. I could almost smell the fear. I continued, nonchalantly.

"Heard you said I was obnoxious but had big lips, so it was okay. That true?"

His face reddened, his friends cracked up.

"It's okay. I do have big lips. I've also got a big mouth. And good hearing. Might want to watch yourself from now on."

He just stared at me. Alien syllables dribbled from his lips.
"Awwww she BURNED you!" his friends howled.

I just smiled, turned, walked away. "Have a good night!"

Heh heh heh. Doesn't get any better than that.

Beware, Dorothy.

Okay. The content I can do. I can make just about anything fun. But the content doesn't matter if you can't get their attention and keep it. The management is everything. I've read "Harry Wong" like its the bible, and I have all these theories in my head... but I don't know what WORKS! Even with months of trying things out. I still feel like I don't know anything.

The problem is that what might work for a bunch of 6th graders... won't work for 7th or 8th graders. I'm used to being a silly bastard. I can't do that with 7th/8th graders. How do I get my kids to participate and share and get excited and laugh... and then stop on command and work silently? How do I get that kind of respect? What do I say? What do I do? I need a procedure! A set of procedures!

I just... don't like being a bitch. I can do stern. I can project my voice into the next hemisphere if I have to, but I don't want to have to. I would rather be quietly authoritative. I want the only loudness from my room to be explosions of occasional laughter. I have to learn to be a master manipulator. Shit.

I would rather be respected than liked, but you don't get respect by riding a broom. I'm just not a cold educator. *sob* Please, somebody, help me! Help! I'm melllllllllllltingggggggggggg.....

And now for something Completely Different....

A Poem. For you. Because I felt like it. First stanza needs to be redone, but *shrug* What do you want for 5 minutes?
:)
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The air is drenched with

The scent of lilacs

The sounds of birds

Chirping and new lovers calling,

“Spring has begun!”

While the breeze teases its hair,

The grass, tossing, brushing, tickling

Playfully, searching for new shoots and

New beginnings, sending the

Seeds of dandelions soaring.

The dandelions—

Tiny clouds that you can touch.

A wisp of yellow,

Or tender puff, that some call weeds

But I call love.

Tulips swell and open,

Greet a radiant sun.

Black centers like black holes

Spit forth yellow stars

Instead of swallowing them up.

And above, a canopy

Of green, new leaves

Caressing in the spring time

Breeze, murmuring, whispering

“Spring has begun.”

Hit and Run

I am learning how to be a bitch.

I'm sure this comes as a surprise to those of you who determined quickly (and years ago) that I already was one.

And you wouldn't be wrong. I fit the description easily, especially if you're some nimrod who's trying to ask me out. The Icy Stare of Death beams glacier-blue from my eyes, and you're frozen to the bone. But, I'm a different person around kids. I like them. (Probaby because I don't know when they're trying to ask me out.) They're adventurous. Creative. Funny. With my 6th graders, its a very cooperative learning environment. I feel like I really know what kind of people they are.


But 7/8th grade is different. I'm running with the "big kids" this week, and hoooo-wahhh! Those teachers run that hallway like it's bootcamp. Students don't blink unless they're given a pass to do so. They sit up straight, they get right to work. It's kind of.... awesome. They're like trained mice only they're (surprisingly) less smelly.

It's also kind of sad. Because they don't volunteer either. 7/8th grade feels like high school, where the subject matters more than the students. I felt like I was flinging knowledge at them, and then tossing them out of the room. Here you go! Knowledge! Now, off to math! *flings kid out the door*

The teacher I'm working with said that in order to keep order and silence in the classroom, you've got to be a bitch until February... and then you can start to chill out. If you don't, when the little suckers (my words, not hers) get back from winter break.... they're like a bunch of chimpanzees in a poop-throwing contest (also my words).

I'm just thinking.... there's no WAY I can be bitchy for that long. How am I supposed to connect with the students and build a rapport and get their interest if I don't figure out who they are?
I agree that you have to go in strong-- without classroom discipline/management, a teacher is lost. You can't teach anything if you don't have their eyes and their respect. But to show no warmth for that long? I'm just not that kind of person. There's got to be a middle ground. And some sesame-seed glue out there. But back to the subject-- Being Bitchy 101.

Today, under the tutelage of my new cooperating teacher, I got into the habit of being a stern, squinty-eyed, pursed-lipped school marm. I think I smiled once, but that was it. We did the whole read-the-book- outloud-and-answer-questions routine, which to me is terribly boring, but makes for a much less expressive teaching style. It's easier to be a bitch when you're not talking.

At the end of the day, I ran back to my old classroom and taught science for my cooperating teacher. And woah... what a difference. The kids were.... like chimpanzees in a poop-throwing contest. Loud, giggling, taking way too long to get out what they needed, wasting my time.... I thought to myself "Is this what they're always like, but I had a tolerancy built up... or are they being especially terrible?"

There's no way of knowing. I guess I want the best of both worlds-- to have quiet, hard-working kids who laugh and share.... but only when I say so. Anybody know how to do that?

Overall, I'm sure this week will be helpful. I get to learn what a school day is like, and what the kids are like. I'll learn how to pace myself, and how much content I can fit into a 45 minute period. I'll learn to be a bitch if I have to.

But a week is an awfully short time. Especially since I can't teach my lesson plans, or in my style. I just can't help but feeling like I'm one of them-- I'm being hit with some knowledge, and flung out the door.

Cumulonimbus Blues

I was ready to rock. I had a fun activity, a perfectly formatted lesson plan (complete with state standards) an assessment, and a classroom full of kids who were excited as heck about clouds. Okay, well scratch that last part. I was excited about clouds. I knew my nimbostratus from my altocumulus. Oh yes I did. And soon they would too.

And even though the lesson went well, I ended feeling disheartened. The kids didn't leave me feeling blue. It was a lack of a certain individual that created the little furrow between my eyebrows-- the principal.

He was supposed to come in to watch me teach today. We had it all planned out. But he didn't show up. Left me hanging. Not even a note or a word over the intercom. Nothin'. So, I'm disheartened.

If you were a principal, and you had the chance to see one of your applicants in action.... wouldn't you take it? See how well she responds to the kids, how she teaches the content, how she reacts to the extra pressure of you being there?

So, I've got a touch of the blues. The cumulonimbus just peed all over my day.

But, there's always something to look forward to. Tomorrow, I'm going to read them a kid's version of The Odyssey. Cyclops, Scylla, Sirens and all. It should be wickedly awesome. I'll keep ya posted.

More Crankiness

Maaaaaan.... it's just NOT my week. This morning, I had an irate parent come in. She was pretty sure that I'm the reason for All Evil. Good grief. Come on. Are you kidding me? The only time I ruin dreams is when I don't flirt back with the little monsters. But, to single one out and be Intentionally Shitty? No way! I would never do that!

This is the parent of a boy who generally has a great attitude. Friday, however, he had a tantrum. He was throwing pencils at people, calling other students names, and was screaming at me for "getting him into trouble".... uhhh.... I think it's your MOUTH that's doing that, darlin'. Not mine. I bet you can guess which student he's been hanging around lately... Oh yes. The one that said she had her brother stalk me.

The good news? The girl was totally over it by the time class was in session today. Participated all day long, kept making goofy faces at me. Go figure. So, one problem down, 10 million to go.

*sigh*

More later. I'm one sleepy student teacher. Hope your day was better than mine!

Lightening Bolts and Broken Wings

Today, it finally happened.

One of my students hates me.

The drama started yesterday afternoon. Being the slave driver that I am, I asked her to "please sit down," which, granted, is a pretty awful thing to ask of a student. It's right up there with "You! Serf! Dig me a new latrine!" and, say, expecting homework in on time.
Well, Miss Thang didn't want to go back to her seat. What she wanted to do was continue to flirt with Darren (you know, the 'twin' of Trae?). I asked her again, calmy but sternly, and then turned and walked away.

From the corner of the room, I hear her say the following words:

"Well, it doesn't matter what she says. I had my brother follow her home, so I know where she lives."

....excuse me?

Now, this student is a new student. She had a history of violence and less-than-appealing grades from her other school. But, since she's been here, she's been doing well. She participates and everything. But... I didn't know much about her family. For all I knew, she COULD have had some strapping John Henry as a brother. And I don't live in the nicest of neighborhoods. The squirrels in my attic aren't going to offer much protection, so if her words were true.... I could be in trouble .

Immediately, I didn't do anything, which could have been a mistake. But, there were twenty-some other 6th graders swarming me, asking questions and attempting to flirt (see examples below). It wasn't until I was driving home, that her comment really hit me. So, naturally, I started checking my rearview mirror every 2 seconds. Which does a lot of good, but only if you're trying to get into an accident.

I contacted my cooperating teacher and university supervisor (both truly excellent ladies), and met with the principal early this morning. He told me that I should write her up, and that he'd deal with it. I sighed heavily, not wanting to write her up... but, she can't go making threats like this, and I shouldn't have to feel intimidated by a 12 year old.

The principal, being a gem, didn't call her down to the office until the end of the day (so I wouldn't have to put up with a p-oed girl all day long). But... there was still class time left when she got back. And when she got back... it was like a volcanic eruption. She tore her demerit slip to bits, and when I asked her for her homework score, refused to give it to me. Instead, she sat there, fuming and mumbling under her breath.

Ohhhh dear.

My cooperating teacher came back into the room, and pulled her out. According to my little miss, everybody hates me, nobody likes me and, well, I guess I should go eat worms. Also, she wasn't going to listen to anything she had to say, because I was clearly out to get her (right, because I don't have better things to do with my time than plotting to ruin the lives of adolescents), and that she wasn't going to do talk to me, or participate or anything. I was, basically, a bitch and a half and that was it. She wasn't sayin' nothing to me.

So, my cooperating teacher said "You know what? Keeping your mouth shut is probably the best thing you can do. That's what got you into this. But you have to do what she says. If she says line up, you line up. If she asks for your homework, you give it to her. You can keep your mouth shut, and she won't call on you, but you don't have a choice in doing what she says."

So.... that's that. She came back into the room, sending glares at me like bolts of lightening. Damn. And I thought I had a Look. She's got it DOWN. It shot right through me and nearly singed my eyebrows.

*sigh*

Joking aside, her hatred really bothers me. I really don't care if all of my students don't simply adore me. But to be disliked with that sort of passion? It makes me sad. But I suppose it is easier to pass the blame than to take responsibility. I didn't do anything to her, but for now, I am the scapegoat for her anger. I've just got to be calm and keep on truckin'. What else can I do?

P.s. Turns out she doesn't have an older brother! Whew!

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Examples of Flirtation??

"Miss J? My wing is broken."
"Your wing is broken?"
"Yeah, see? (flaps arm) Broken. I was flying and Jeremy ran into me. He busted it. Now I can't fly no more."
"Any more."
"That's what I said."
"Maybe you should see the animal doctor."
"I did. The doctor was out. Nurse told me to take an aspirin and come back later."
"Guess you should do that then."
(boy walks away)

"Miss J!" (harsh whisper from girl) "Miss J, he was totally flirting with you!"
(Me, wide eyed, incredulous) "Nuh uh! He's just being silly. You're all silly. That was NOT flirting."
"Uhhhh yeah, yeah it was Miss J. He totally was."
"Oh. Well." Who knew?


Boy #2 "Hey, Miss J! Guess what?"
"What?"
"I'm a ballerina."
"You don't say."
"See, watch." (boy does worst pirouette I've ever seen)
"Wow. That was just awful."
"Yeah, that's the good thing about being my kind of ballerina. You don't have to be graceful."
"Excellent. That's my kind of ballerina too."
"Right on, Miss J. Yeah." (gives me thumbs up)

Boy #3, wearing ridiculous hair clip on top of his head
"Is that my hair clip?"
"Oh? This? Is this yours Miss J?"
"Yeah, I'm going to have to confiscate that."
"But.... you don't want it. See? Its got my hair gel all over it. Can I keep it?"
"Uhhhhh lemme think....... No!"
"Awwwww." (hands it over)
(okay, so that one probably was flirting)

Here's the problem. I don't know when they're flirting, and because of that... I don't know how NOT to egg them on!