Mishmash

Today was field day, a day of ridiculous activities out on the-- you guessed it-- field.

My kids only really kicked butt in one event, but I was sooo proud of how they acted. They cheered people on, weren't negative, didn't cheat and weren't obnoxious. That, AND they listened to my little pre-field day rant. Here's proof:

"You know, you guys are all LOSERS," Her Highness of Haughtiness says to my class. 

"Really? You know, we're not out here to win or lose. We are out here to have fun. Besides, we already know we're winners and we don't NEED any silly little competition to tell us that," replies Jessica, Queen Diva of 615.

HECK YES. You go girl. [wiping tear]

So proud. 

Also. I made up a new word: smellifluous. Instead of a sound that is caramel for your ears, it is a smell so delicious you swoon in delight. [Pronounce as if spelled with a s' like in s'mores. A quick s.] 

The English language just doesn't have enough words for good smells. 

The Dunk Tank

The awesome, diva, goddess secretaries: 

"Miss J, will you go in the dunk tank?"

[two seconds of consideration] "

"Yeah. Sure."

"REALLY!? None of the other girls will go in but us! Really?! You will?!"

 [puzzled] 

"Uhhh. Yeah. Why not?"

"Miss J, you are so cool. You are one of us."

[Feelings of self doubt melt away. Strut impedes any semblance dignity but makes me feel like a bad ass.]

My kids' reaction:

"We're going to get you, Miss J."

"Right. Okay. Well, remember this. I volunteered. So, let's look at the scenarios here. 

One: you throw the ball, I fall, I cool off, I win. 

Two: you throw the ball, you miss, I make fun of you, I crack myself up, I win. 

Three: you hit the button, I fall in and cool off, I make fun of you for being a loser with no skills.... say it with me now..."

"You win."

"That's right. I win. Any questions?"

China: Oracle Bone Action!

After testing our levee engineering skillz (that's right. With a z), we moved on to studying the history of the Chinese language, written characters the Shang Dynasty and BEST OF ALL-- ORACLE BONES.

As usual, kids had to either pass a quiz or turn in a heaping load of homework and if they did....a cool project designed to blow their minds ensued.

How to make Oracle Bones to display in your very own homes? See below!

Materials:
Balloons
Glue
Newspaper
White Paint
Several pages with Chinese Characters
Paintbrushes
Black/Colored Paint
Glasses/cups full of water


Next:
1.Blow up a balloon and put your name on it. Balloon should be slightly larger than your head.
2. Tear 1-2" wide strips of newspaper.
3. Once you have a pile of strips, dump water on them so they're wet but not dripping.
4. Squeeze a thin line of glue on each strip.
5. Start layering the wet, gluey newspaper on top of HALF of your balloon. (And NOT the part with your name. Also, if you do one layer of horizontal, then one layer of vertical newspaper it tends to keep its form better. You also want to make sure your newspaper is as flat and smooth as possible!)
6. Wait a night to dry!
7. Paint your Oracle Bones (aka turtle plastrons) white while STILL ON THE BALLOON.
8. Ask your oracle bone questions. Become inspired and paint your answers (from the Chinese character pages) on the oracle bone.
9. Pop balloon with glorious euphoria.
10. Separate and display Oracle bone for all to see... or wear it as a helmet. Your choice.

Results in picture form will soon be posted. :)

American as Apple Pie

On April 12, less than a month from now, I have opted to take the state's history exam. Why? Because in order to teach 8th grade history next year(one of my options), I have to prove to the state that I'm not a moron. That should be no sweat, right?

Well, here's the fun part.
The state test covers the following:
1. Ancient civilizations (including Egyptian, Greek, Chinese, Middle Eastern....)
2. American history from colonial expansion until roughly present times.
3. Ecomonics
4. Geography

Basically, I need to know everything until to the foundation of America, and then all of America's history. Pfft. Piece of cake!

To help me study, I bought a stack of fantastic books that promised to help me unearth the lies of history books, teach me the scandalous events never mentioned, and show me the light quickly and easily. One particular textbook guarenteed to teach me America's history in 24 hours. Did it help? Yes, yes it did. But it also made me absolutely furious.

A couple points of interest. The author had a tendency, in his easily digestible chapters, to leave out what I consider important information. He could have mentioned the Oregon Trail. He could have mentioned the Louis and Clark Expedition. He didn't. You know what else he failed to mention? The Holocaust.

An entire chapter is devoted to WWII, and yet, mysteriously, the author leaves the Holocaust out. In ONE SENTENCE describing the Nuremburg Trials after the war, the author describes people being found guilty of war crimes such as "the genocide of jews, slavs..." etc. And this is the only mention. The author defines WWII as being a war of good versus evil. I can't help but ponder... which side does he see as good?

More evidence that said author is a biased, incompetent sludge-face:
After the bombing of Pearl Harbor (which was also historically inaccurate) he describes Executive Order: 9066. Japanese internment. Okay, I'm thinking, good. The author isn't going to skip over that.

But then I read this sentence: "Life in these centers was as American as apple pie, they even had Boy Scout troops."


WHAT?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I nearly threw the book across the room. Next thing you know, you'll be telling me that slavery was a cushy profession as well.

So, now I'm worried that everything I read up to that point could have been riddled with bs as well. Maybe what I now know about the Monroe Doctrine and the Missouri Compromise and the freaking Battle at the Alamo.. maybe its all wrong too.

It's a damn good thing I bought so many other books. And its a damn good thing there's Wikipedia. (OH CRAP! Maybe he wrote things for wikipedia too... Crap, crap!)

So, in the end, after I pass my test with flying colors (keeping my fingers crossed), I think I'll write Mr. Davenport a letter. Let him know that his take on history makes me glad to be a teacher. I can imagine using his book in my classes. To teach my kids not about, oh the Holocaust, or anything about history really.... but not to trust everything they read.

Next Year: Part II

More thoughts....

Options:
--My best friend here has openings in her school. I can be a dynamo and interview like the goddess I am.
--There is a district much closer to me which has many already excelling schools. Already excelling = less pressure? I can submit online applications there.
-- Figure out my options at the current school.
-- Eat lots of ice cream.

What would make me happy:
--Having my last year's kids again. Some of the kids are shit heads, but they are shit heads I like. They are, in essence, my kind of shit heads.
--The time to get really good at one subject instead of trying to be astoundingly brilliant at multiple ones.
--Teaching history.
--The time to put together my own curriculum binders for other subjects than the one I currently teach. The time to focus on things I want to get better at for ME, not because something is due the next day.
--Having the time to take more professional development or classes so I can learn how to be more effective and become highly qualified in more areas.
--The opportunity to help and collaborate with other teachers.
--Learning to be an AA.
-- Eating lots of ice cream.

Next Year?

So, on Friday, I have a meeting and I'm rather excited.

I'm trying to figure out what I want to do for next year. Do I stay? Do I leave? What subject? What grade level? What would make me the happiest? I know something's gotta change.

Pros
-- My principal and vice principal are very supportive of me.
--The assistant principal frequently pops into the room to check up on frequent fliers. He is very proactive when it comes to discipline and tries to prevent situations. He also has impeccable timing and often steps into my door as I'm thinking about calling him.
--The AAs are awesome-- both help everyone with curriculum, unwrapping standards, and put together vast binders of ready to use, standard oriented activities, notes and homework. I love speaking with and collaborating with both of them. They get me. Which is great.
-- I have a reputation. Kids that I don't even know.... know me. I feel like a celebrity because I am known by the community. Parents know me, sisters and brothers know me, cousins know me. My expectations are already set. Being part of a community makes me feel like I have a family.
-- I have grown attached to a good chunk of the kids, especially the ones from last year. Even the ones who drove me nuts. I desperately want to make sure they stay on a Good Path. And not, you know, the jail/pregnancy one.

Cons
-- Our district is in a great amount of debt.
-- We may experience salary freeze.
-- We may experiencing a "tightening" of staff. IE: less teachers, larger class sizes. And less pay.
-- The commute is too damn long, and gas prices are projected to hit $4.00 by summer after which they will probably keep rising.
-- AZ as a state has no idea what to do with ELL learners. They've stupidly made bi-lingual education illegal, and now they have mandated that ELD kids be grouped according to their level of English. Which is absurd. (Don't get me started). The big question is this: since WHEN is separate equal? I thought we did away with that via brown vs. education....Which leads to....
-- I am terrified of getting the ELD cluster again. The kids are so damn apathetic and I can't handle it two years in a row. I love teaching low kids, but DAMN it, give me low kids that have at least an OUNCE of giving-a-damn.
-- I am beginning to burn out. I need to focus on one thing that I love. But in this district, I don't know if that's a possibility with the wacky scheduling.
-- In this district, we are not guarenteed a prep.
-- We are not paid extra money for when kids are split OR if we have to sub... which leads to....
-- Our school never has substitutes. Which meant for the longest time that special areas teachers had to be subs. Which stinks for everyone and creates a LOT of resentment leading to....
-- Teacher retention and morale is low. --> Huge melancholic raincloud.
-- Teachers don't collaborate, share, or help each other.


So.... what am I going to do?

Shine

Can someone please explain to me why it is that women are such bitches?

Why is it that when you get a certain amount of estrogen in a room, all just goes straight to hell?

Now, I'm not saying all of them are. I work with a large amount of women who are phenomenal human beings, real high-quality ladies. They vent and laugh and share. When you're done speaking with them, you feel better about yourself. They are life preservers. They are rays of sunshine. They can become the reason for going to work, for getting up in the morning.

But the rest? Sweet lord tap dancin' in a tin can. What is this?

People always assume that men are competitive, but I think that truly, women are worse. Why? Because when women are competitive, it isn't always overt. There is often no obvious bravado, no chest-thumping. It's a secret war, a quiet war. A manipulative, whispery war of shadows and vicious gossip. Say one thing, do another. And smile. And lie. Oh, hi! Good morning. Fake cheer and big smiles and then? Well, just wait. Turn your back, and see what expression she makes.
Why are there not more women politicians? I know some who'd be fantastic.

Why is it this way?
Why don't I see the menfolk acting like this?
I can see several reasons.

1. They don't care. They have either enough self-confidence that they don't need to put anyone down, or if they don't have a lot of confidence, they are too mellow to really care.
2. They don't want to waste the energy.
3. If they do want to compete, they make it into a fun game, something that unites them more instead of tearing each other down.

Why do women tear each other down? Why must we always be better than someone else? Why can't we just be honest with each other? Why are we always so defensive? Why is it that we always feel like we have something to prove? Why can't we just be happy with ourselves, our progress?

Why can't I just ask a simple question and get a simple answer? Why can't I ask a question without someone assuming it's a loaded one? Why can't we just talk? Why can't we just be real with each other?

Why is this so damn difficult?

When I think about myself, two truths emerge.
1. I love to learn.
2. I love to be helpful.

I went into teaching because of these two things. (Not because I "simply adore the children", although, of course you have to enjoy the little demons to teach.)
But, these core ideas aren't the same for everyone, and I realize that. Some people see education as a buisness, teaching as a competition.

And you know, I'm not perfect. I have a lot of work to do. I am not as efficient as I could be. I don't differenciate as much as I should. I'm still learning to be more patient. I'm learning ways of being more helpful. Of communicating better with my students and my peers. But, I'm aware of my faults. And I'm trying to be better each day, a day a time.

I just wonder-- why can't more of us just... try to reach and pull each other up? Why don't more of us feel good about being helpful instead of hurtful? Why do we assume that if we help someone else shine, that that makes us shine less?

Its like that old proverb about love. You know the one-- the more love you give, the more love you get? When you help someone, when you make someone feel better, or collaborate, or share, or just be a decent human being.... you both shine more brightly.

Why must we always try to take on all the credit to ourselves? Why must we all try to outshine each other?

Damn!

I have the flu.
AGAIN.

Which means I'm missing school.
AGAIN.

This sucks.

Colonel Colossal Returns

A couple years ago, one student remarked in her notebook that her svelte and stunning brunette student teacher had one positively startling quality: her fat ass.

The student teacher? Me. The girl? Mortified that I called her out. The resolution? Public tears of humiliation from the student, secret tears of laughter from the teacher.

Today, that teacher returns. Only now, she's navigated the trenches, she's bounded over the trip wire, she's vaulted over the minefield. She's ready for anything. Put on your hard hat, baby. Here we go.

The time? 3:15 pm. The place? Pod 4. The occasion? Thursday Girl's Club. There we were, building confidence, talkin' smack (or... you know... s'math...) , when suddenly, a round of fiendish giggling erupts from the troops. Battle clad as always, I raise my eyebrows and shoot a withering, dart like look. Daring them to giggle once again.

A wave of whispers, hands cupped to neighboring ears, the sound of rose petals falling on cellophane, of crinkling wax paper, of water softly falling. But even with bionic hearing... I can not make out the words. The fearless sergeant folds.


"Okay, okay. I give. What's so darn funny?" I bark.

More whispers and giggles.

Then, hesitantly, "Do I want to know?"

Replies Princess Valeria. "OHH, yes. Yes, you do."

The teacher breaks. "Okay then. Spill it, sistah."

"Well," Giggles starts, then cracking herself up, buries her wide white smile behind her hands.

"You tell it!"

Princess Valeria continues. "Well, you know what Ruben said? Ruben said... that you have...."

Well, well?

"A... BIG BUTT!"

Laughter fills the room like mustard gas. I nearly wet my pants I laugh so hard. All 120 pounds shakes likes a seismograph in action.

Fast forward 2300 Hours>>>
Time? 2:15. Place? The kidney table. The subject? Social studies. The battle pants: On.

"So, guys. I heard something really hilarious last night. You wanna hear?"

"Yeah!" the chorus replies.

"Apparently, according to Ruben, I have a huge butt."

A deadly nanosecond of silence. The deadly stench of fear (or is that BO?)
You can almost hear it. The thought on everyone's mind: Oh shit. Is she pissed?

And then I grin. Instantly the class morphs into a troop of howler monkeys.
Puppy scurries to Ruben, yipping madly, eyeing up his pant leg and licking his chops.

And Ruben? Ruben is scarlet. He punctuates the laughter with defiant screaming: What?! WHAT?! WHO TOLD YOU THAT?!

The class turns their teary eyes back to me.

"Sorry Ruben. That's classified information. If I told you...well you know. And I have just the tool to do it."

I point at my derriere.
The class explodes a second time.

Colonel Colossal? Victorious again.

Melodic Silence

Most of the time, 615 sounds more akin to a zoo than a library.

For example: I have one seriously ADHD kid I refer to as "Puppy." Puppy scampers around my room on all fours, comes when I call, and more often than not... woofs. (He is, I should note, housebroken.) Puppy also sits nicely and receives pats on the head and cookies when he can be still and listen for longer than 5 minutes.

I am not kidding.

The room is also starting to smell like a zoo. The "budding adolescents" smell significantly less flowery than the term might suggest. Instead, the Phoenix sun melts their hides, turning the air into something reminiscent of the barn at high noon.

There are constant hoots, hollers, monkey sounds, smooching noises. You want to teach onomatopoeia? Stop on by.

Today? I wanted some quiet. I was tired. For once, I just wanted to pretend like I was in some middle class suburb somewhere, with perfect students in perfect rows with perfect grammar and perfect, robotic smiles.

But I'm not mad. I know my limits. I know there still has to be something zany going on to keep their attention. So this is what I said:

"Okay. Here's the deal. Today, I want quiet. Total, still, absolute, gorgeous quiet. With one exception. The only, and I do mean only, thing that should permeate this room... should be..."

"Your voice?"

"No."

"Us breathing?"

"No. There will be no breathing."

(At this, a uniform gasp as several students begin the process of becoming blue)

"No, the only sound I want to hear... is Edgar singing."

For Edgar, you see, likes to pretend he is an opera singer. (Viking helmet, flaxen braids, buxom as all get out... the whole package.)

At this, Edgar's eyes lit up, and from the place where vicious comments flow like molten lava, came a surprising sound; a high pitched, smooth tone, even and clear.

"Laaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

No vibrato, no old-lady warble. And no adolescent voice-changing cracks. (Do I dare insert a Vienna Boys Choir joke in here?)

And so, for 50 minutes, I had my wish. The students worked hard, and randomly, every few minutes, came a note of glorious clarity.

"Laaaa!"

The class would laugh ever so quietly for a few seconds... and then, my perfect silence remained.

At the end of the hour, all of the work was turned in, and Edgar commented,

"You know? I think I should do this for the talent show."
"You know? I think maybe you're right."

615's very own Pavarotti.

P.s.

Okay, for the record... I have no idea who reads this thing. Or if anyone other than my mother does. So, if you could, could you leave me a wee note? I like to know who makes up my constituency. ;)

Big Flooding Fun

Question: What is best the best thing about studying ancient civilizations?
Answer: Recreating.... AND DESTROYING THEM!

Today I gave the (qualified) little rascals:
2 aluminum pans
two types of dirt
4 index cards
a handful of straws
10 inches of tape
two handfuls of pebbles


They recreated a stretch of China's Yellow River bed, then built levees on either side. After that, when they were certain of their brilliance, I sprinkled tiny bits of blue construction paper on the "land."

And then? I dumped a glass full of water into their water canal. WHOOSH! OH GOD! MISS J NOOOOOO!

HAHAHAH! DESTRUCTION!

The test? If the paper shifted or got wet, their levee failed, their crops flooded, their homes were lost, and everybody died horrible deaths.
If not? They saved the world.

The best part was hearing their discussion afterwords.
"The topsoil worked well, but the land that was sand was a problem-- all of the water was held back at first, but then it sank under the levee and was sucked up by the sand."
"How could we fix that?"
"We have to contain the water better.... or make sure we don't build our houses on sand."


Then,
"Miss J, you were right. Today was way fun."
"What'd I tell you? If you work hard, that's what happens."
"I guess we have to trust you, huh?"
"It's not a bad plan."

Updog

Inspired by the American version of The Office, I had to try a joke out on my kids.....

(Sitting down at a table full of smartasses)
"Wow, Devin. You...kind of smell like updog."
"WHAT?!"
"You know, updog."
"What the heck is that?"
(well, shit. This joke isn't going to work... but I'm going to screw with his head for as long as I can....)
"What the heck is what?"
"What you just said?"
"What did I just say?"
"MISS J! For real. What is it?"
"What is what?"

Soon, other students start chiming in, and it becomes a game like 20 questions.
"Is it like puke?"
"Does it come out the anus?"
"Is it bad?"
"Is it wet dog?"
"Is it worse than Edgar's singing?"
"OH! OH! I got it. Its a BOWEL OBSTRUCTION!"


And finally....
Adrian: Updog? What's updog?
Me: Not much, what's up with you?

I throw my head back and laugh hysterically.
Adrian just looks at me.
"Seriously, Miss J. What is it?"

Oh god. This may take a while....

Return of the Brunette Dynamo

"Miss J, I have detention tonight again. Its that same damn teacher. He's DOGGIN' me. He won't let me do anythin'. I can't even go throw something in the trash."

"That sucks, Monica. Not sure what I can tell you. Are you still being an ass to him?"

"NO! Well... maybe. Is 8th grade going to suck like this?"

"I don't know, m'dear, but I can tell you this-- I've been thinking about seeing if I can teach 8th grade next year."

"WHAT?! What subject.... SCIENCE?! OH MY GOD MISS J YOU SO ROCK MY WORLD!!!"

She runs out, huge grin on her face.

I will never tire of this girl.

Fingerpaints & Rorschach

"This feels like KINDERGARTEN!" shouts a smiling 6th grader, yellow paint all over her hands.
"Look! I got my nails done," kids one of the boys, scarlet dripping from his fingertips.
Another girl has a red streak across her forehead. But there is no paint on the floor. Everybody is participating and I think...I hope... most are learning.

"What do you think this looks like?" asks one student, holding the paper sideways.
"What do you see?"
"I see dancing bunnies!"
"Dancing bunnies? That looks like your MOM," a smartass student replies, mock-scoffing.
"You look like my mom," I retort.
"BUUUUUUURN!"


We were fingerpainting in math class. What better way to continue teaching reflections than by fingerpainting? We made our own Rorschach inkblots (using both x and y axes mind you) then built reflections with manipulatives and used green plastic psuedo-mirrors to test them.

After school, my Elite Wednesday Crew solved problems like this:

One side of a square is 7x-2. If the perimeter is 160 cm, what is x?

Use the distributive process to solve the perimeter of a regular pentagon if one side is 3s + 6 and s equals 4.

AND THEY DID IT. (Can you?) All while on a Sour Skittles high.

Later, I'll tell you how I taught my second class how to differenciate rotations, translations and reflections using the Three Little Pigs and Little Red Riding Hood. :)

I'm such a genius, it kills me.

More later. I've had a good day, and will now commence this momentous occasion by partaking in one of my all time favorite activities-- sleeping. Adios!