Learn Me Gooder, page 10
It’s nice of the kids to share their samples with us. My back shelf will soon be full of these rocks and rock-like items. Usually around the time we study leaves at the beginning of the year, my back shelf is filled with different types of leaves that the kids bring in to share with me.
Funny how this phenomenon never happens when we study money.
Speaking of bringing me things, I got another interesting present today. Not to be outdone by Thilleenica and her nutcracker gift, Lakeisha brought me an egg. A no-frills, regular ol’ Grade A egg. I was very tempted to put the egg in Bubba’s jaws, but I thought that might be seen as a cruel dismissal of Lakeisha’s thoughtfulness. Plus, the egg was too big to fit.
Back to our study of rocks, I also talked a bit with the class about volcanoes. Magma and lava are, after all, liquid rock. So today, at around 8:05 (nearly two hours before we do science), Lakeisha motioned me over and said, “I was just going to tell you…” (This is how she begins every statement) “My friend told me that when the world ends, there’s going to be lava everywhere, and most people are going to be dead, and the lava is going to kill them.”
Of course my smart-alecy mouth couldn’t help but respond with, “Really? Lava is going to kill people who are already dead?”
She didn’t seem taken aback and instead replied, “No, there’s still going to be SOME people who are alive, and the lava is going to kill THEM.”
Well then. Good to know.
If I had only been a little quicker on my feet, I could have quizzed Lakeisha with, “And then after the killer lava cools down and solidifies, WHICH type of rock will it be?”
While Lakeisha may be channeling her inner Debbie Downer, another one of my students remains slightly more upbeat. I don’t think I’ve told you about Mia, the little girl who enrolled about a week before Halloween. She’s from Mexico, and she doesn’t speak much English. She’s sweet, but she’s also a little goofy. Whenever I give her a little one-on-one assistance, she has an odd way of affirming my help. Instead of a simple, “Thank you,” or even, “Gracias,” she gets a wide-eyed, almost surprised look on her face, and she shouts, “You a good teacher!” She usually says this loud enough to cause everyone in the room to look up, and she puts emphasis on the word “good.”
“You a GOOD teacher!”
So to everyone throughout the years who has thought I was a BAD teacher, I now present the witness for counter-evidence. BOO-YAH!
Miles also gave me props today, in the form of a drawing of Iron Man. Underneath the picture, it said, “Mr.Woodson – a great teacher!” Above the picture was Miles’ full name and today’s date. I am tempted to add a couple of letters to the drawing and christen this the “Ironic Man” poster, because this is the ONLY time Miles has ever written his name and date on a paper without extensive prompting.
Someone else had names on the brain today as well. Near the end of the day, I was near my door and heard Mrs. Frisch giving a spelling test to one of her kids out in the hallway. She said a word, then used it in a sentence. The student’s priority was supposed to be on writing the word down on paper with the correct spelling. What I heard made me sad for the lack of focus AND cracked me up for its spontaneity all at the same time.
Mrs. Frisch: “The next word is store. Store. John and Tamara went to the store.”
Student: “WHO went?”
Gotta love it. At least she didn’t say, “John and Tamara went to the store and were enveloped by lava.”
Have a great weekend, man.
Talk to you later,
Val Caynic
Date: Tuesday, December 8, 2009
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: The Swine Floozies
Hey Fred,
I beg to differ with you, my friend. I actually WAS referred to as a good worker during my stint at HPU – several times, in fact! Strangely enough, it was often by a Hispanic lady named Mia on the assembly line who would shout, “You a GOOD engineer!”
I’d tell you all about my date over the weekend, except that it never happened. Jill sent me an email late Friday saying that she had to cancel. She would have CALLED to tell me that she had to cancel, but she had completely lost her voice.
Sinusitis, my old nemesis, is now going after my potential loved ones. I’ve lost my voice a couple of times over the years, and it makes for some REALLY difficult days. I’ve tried channeling Wiley E Coyote, writing instructions on dry erase boards and holding them up, but the kids look at the board in confusion as if I’ve written hieroglyphics. I’ve tried pantomiming instructions, but it was like having the worst teammates ever in a game of charades.
Me: [acting out opening a book and turning pages]
Kids: “Ooooh, I know this one!”
“Throw crayons!”
“Jump up and down on my chair!”
“Punch my neighbor!!”
At any rate, I feel for Jill, but we’ve been texting back and forth, and she seems to be recovering well. Hopefully, we’ll be able to go out this weekend.
I guess it’s that cold and illness time of the year, a time when the sniffles get snifflier, the sneezes get sneezier, and the coughs get wetter and hackier. This is the time that justifies the “2 boxes of Kleenex” line on the school supply list.
If I didn’t remain vigilant, my kids could easily go through a box of tissues every day. Yesterday, I had to get on to Priya’s case for wasting Kleenex. I was already annoyed at her for her over-the-top antics of covering her entire face to impress upon me the fact that she really needed a tissue. But when I saw her grab one tissue, touch it to the tip of her nose, and then immediately grab another tissue, I snapped.
I told her that she owed me a quarter. “Kleenex cost money, you know, so you need to bring a quarter tomorrow for that extra Kleenex you wasted.”
By the time Priya came into my class this morning and kept holding out a quarter to me, I had completely forgotten about my little tirade. When she finally told me it was for the Kleenex, I said thank you and took it. Later in the day, I told her that she could have the quarter back if she promised to use only one Kleenex at a time, to which she readily agreed.
I then told her she’d owe me a dollar every time she asked for a Kleenex with both hands covering her face.
I’m thinking I should start charging Tyler a quarter every time I have to listen to one of his health issues. This boy is always complaining about some mysterious malady. As a result, I’m often biting back some snide response to his claims. Or NOT biting them back, in some cases.
A month ago, he told me, “I have a little bump on my head.”
Two weeks ago, it was, “My knee kind of hurts.”
Last week, I heard, “My eyes are watering.”
Often, I just reply with a quick, “Oooh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
Other times, I try to express solidarity with the lad by telling him about my own pains.
“I know what you mean, Tyler, my glutes are really tight today!”
Or, “Yeah, my head is pounding like a mo-fo!”
Today, Tyler turned around to tell me, “I have cramps.”
I said, “Maybe you’re pregnant!”
No, of course I didn’t say that. But man, was I tempted!
Tyler’s problems pale by comparison to Suzie’s. Yes, the same Suzie who falls asleep every single day in class. I don’t know if she doesn’t sleep at all at home, or if she’s doing it for attention, or if nobody’s in the hatch of her brain to push the button every 108 minutes to keep her awake.
Yesterday, she left early for a doctor’s appointment, and she returned today with a new way to express her problems.
At around 9:00 this morning, she motioned me over so she could tell me, “I’m having girl problems down there.” As she said this, she pointed not-so-subtly at her crotch.
Yuck. I’m having regurgitation problems down there, and I’m pointing at my gut.
I don’t want to be too cavalier here, because sometimes kids have true health problems. Take Lance and his hemophilia, for instance. But I feel like Tyler, Suzie, and the others will need to suffer a massive heart attack, a stroke, and a really nasty hangnail (what we in the medical industry term “The Trifecta”) before I really start worrying about them.
Well, my angina and sciatica are starting to act up, and I think I feel a touch of e. coli coming on. I had better wrap this up!
Talk to you later,
Hy Pocondriak
Date: Friday, December 11, 2009
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: Joaqim Possible and the Scorched Earth
Hey pal,
From what you’re telling me, it sounds like Steph in HR has gotten even worse since I left Heat Pumps Unlimited. It’s one thing to have kids like Tyler and Suzie constantly complaining about how they feel, but it’s much worse coming from an adult. Steph is STILL talking about catching Swine Flu? Wasn’t that like two years ago?
A word of advice – don’t mention lice to her, or she’ll suddenly have it and need to go home immediately.
I am so glad that today is Friday. Besides having a date tonight with a fully recovered Jill (YES!), my carpal tunnel syndrome has really been aggravating me. You may remember, that was one of my wonderful parting gifts for years of service at HPU (along with a lovely assortment of salted meats and a year’s supply of Rice-a-Roni, the San Francisco Treat). It had gone away for a while, but it’s been making a resurgence lately. Today, my hands felt weaker than Carson Daly’s charisma.
For the past two days, I’ve been wearing one of those wrist braces – you know, the kind that makes it look like I’m going on the professional bowling tour. Of course the kids keep asking me, “Mister Woodson, what happened to your hand?”
I tell them, “I’ve just always wanted to be a super hero!”
Now I shall be known as Mister Iron Fist. Well, I guess I’m really more like Mister Rigid Plastic and Polymer Blend (with Delicate Weave!) Fist. To everyone except Shelly, that is, who still insists on calling me “Miss.”
While ruling the class with my cyborg fist, I’ve been attempting to teach elapsed temperature problems. That’s right, ELAPSED temperature problems. When I was in school, I’m pretty sure we never did anything like this, certainly not in the third grade. In fact, I don’t even think I heard the word “elapsed” until after I had my master’s degree in engineering! But anyway, it’s on the curriculum, so it must be taught. The problems are all of this sort:
“This morning, the temperature outside was 74ºF. By the afternoon, it had risen to 88ºF. What was the change in temperature?”
After seeing this on the test my very first year and realizing what difficulty my kids were having with it, I started practicing the skill with subsequent classes much earlier in the year. Most of the kids this year have gotten pretty good at it, but a few of them always want to add the numbers, regardless of how high they are or what they mean.
Yes, Unthinking One, the temperature went up 162 degrees today! Let’s not stop to consider whether or not that makes any sense, let’s just add numbers, because adding is fun! WHEEEEE!! Who wants sugar??
Whenever I see a kid who has chosen such an answer, I always ask him, “Do you realize how hot that is? If the temperature ever went up that much, we would all die! There would be fires! Earthquakes!! Dogs and cats living together!!! MASS HYSTERIA!!!!”
Sadly, they never seem to take the hint (or recognize the movie quote).
Ironically, Lakeisha – harbinger of the fiery apocalypse – always gets these elapsed temperature problems correct.
I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that they have such difficulty with this, because their internal body thermostats are quite clearly on the fritz. Every August, when it’s over 100 degrees outside, there are kids running around the playground wearing big bulky sweatshirts. And every winter when it’s freezing, there are kids who come to school in shorts.
I am encouraged, though, that all of the kids DO understand another concept we’ve been discussing – probability. At the end of the day, as I was getting ready to draw some tickets for the prize basket, I thought I’d test the kids’ understanding. At the third grade level, probability is not daunting at all. It boils down to one of four options. Something is either most likely, least likely, equally likely, or impossible. If there are 3 red blocks, 3 green blocks, 1 blue block, and 6 yellow blocks in a box, then yellow is most likely to be picked, blue is least likely, red and green are equally likely, and mauve with polka-dots is impossible.
You know I give out blue tickets to the kids for good behavior and participation. They then put their names on the tickets, and I draw three tickets on Friday for prizes. As I stirred the tickets around in the bowl today and all eyes were upon me, I asked, “Who would be IMPOSSIBLE for me to pick right now?”
I was expecting answers like, “Mrs. Bird!” or, “President Obama!” or even, “Fred Bommerson!”
Instead, nearly every single kid shouted, “JOAQIM!!”
I was momentarily taken aback, but as I glanced at Joaqim, slouched in his chair, he shrugged sheepishly and said, “Yeah, I don’t have any tickets in there.”
You know what this means? They get it!! They all totally understand probability – or at least what the term “impossible” means! Even perennial underperformer Joaqim, who is hard pressed to understand how a crayon works!
Success!
Now if I can just get those few kids to realize that it is IMPOSSIBLE for the temperature to rise over 150 degrees in one day. Except of course for that day when lava covers the earth and kills all of the dead people.
Talk to you later,
Sir Tenn
Date: Tuesday, December 15, 2009
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: Clear and present manger
Hey bud,
I had another great date with Jill. There is definitely something special there, and it’s not just our shared disdain for standardized tests and empty mechanical pencils. I told her about Joaqim and his improbable breakthrough, and she thought it was funny, though she didn’t start naming kids that are most likely, least likely, and impossible to pass, as you did. And tell Winter to stop saying my class has jumped the shark. This isn’t a TV show, you know!
Here at school, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Excuse me, I should say it’s beginning to look a lot like Holiday Season. I’ve never particularly been one for euphemisms (despite the cruel joke my parents played on me by giving me the middle name “Euphemism”), and that one especially chaps my hide. Why isn’t February the “Holiday Season?” I mean, you’ve got Valentine’s Day, Presidents’ Day, Groundhog Day, MY birthday... talk about a holiday bonanza!
But no, we can’t officially talk about Christmas in school anymore – Heaven forbid! (Wait, can I say the word “Heaven?”) During the morning announcements today, Mrs. Forest capped things off with, “Remember, kids, there are only four school days left until Chris – Winter Break!”
I could practically hear her larynx split down the middle as it attempted to do a 180 and avoid saying the C-word.
Call me a rebel, but I haven’t corrected any of my kids who have mentioned “Christmas Break” in class. I haven’t refrained from using those words myself. And I sure as heck haven’t removed Bubba, the Christmas-Specific Nutcracker.
This crazy weather we’re having seems to have given some kids a reason to start Christmas vacation early! Last night, when I got home, it was almost 80° outside. Today after school, I threw a couple of snowballs at the buses as they left.
Yes, the temperature dropped that far in less than 24 hours. Please entirely disregard my previous email about elapsed temperature impossibilities. While it didn’t start snowing until around 11 o’clock, it was 34° on my drive in to the school. And for that half an hour that I had to stand out in front of the school on crosswalk duty, it didn’t get any warmer. I had on my ski cap, gloves, and scarf, and I was still miserable. My crosswalk partner, Mr. Vann, was bundled up like a Tusken Raider – with better conversational skills, of course. We didn’t greet nearly as many kids as usual, because a lot of parents must have watched the weather reports, seen what was coming, and kept their children at home.
After the morning announcements had ended and after I had regained feeling in my extremities, Mrs. Forest came on the speaker again and asked for a head count so that the cafeteria would know how many lunches to have ready. I sent a few kids out to collect up numbers from the other third grade teachers, and the results came back looking like Mike Vanderjagt’s field-goal record as a Dallas Cowboy. 10/17, 14/17, 16/21, etc.
I had just 3 kids missing out of 18, but Mrs. Bird only had 11 out of her 17 present. So in the afternoon, after we had switched classes – and after two parents had come to pick up their children – I had a ridiculously small class. It was actually quite pleasant.
Lex and Tyler had caused a lot of trouble yesterday for the substitute teacher while I was at a training. So today, I had both of them sitting at their seats repeatedly copying the phrase, “I will not misbehave and act like a fool.”
I can only hope that one day that message will stick!
At 2:00, Cerulean and Felipe went to their resource class, and Ella was picked up by her mother. I started to feel like I was stuck in an Agatha Christie novel – And Then There Were Six.
