Learn Me Gooder, page 15
Afterwards, I was glad they had not said someone brought drugs to school. I could see myself grilling the kids:
“Was it marijuana? Coke? Cheese? Heroine? Yellow jackets? Speedballs? Goofballs? Ludes? Shrooms? X? Spanish Fly? Spinach?”
I asked Mr. Redd about it later, and he told me that the alcohol in question was an airline travel-size bottle of Bacardi Rum. What Larry would call “Breakfast.”
Do you remember that time we flew out to the convention in Anaheim, and Larry drank so much on the flight that he was actually cut off? He had finished off two bottles of rum and was trying to order a third when the flight attendant told him no, adding, “Sir, it’s 10:30 in the morning.”
He had certainly been sober enough the night before, when he called the airline to reserve a kosher meal in my name.
Back to today, I may not have immediately guessed the contraband liquid in the afternoon, but earlier in the day, I was finally acknowledged as being smart. I mean REALLY smart. We’re talking Earth-shattering GENIUS here!
Well, at least according to my kids.
This morning, I picked my class up from art where Mr. Vann was waiting at the door. I reminded the kids that they should thank Mr. Vann for burning them all copies of the multiplication CD.
The kids thanked him and then started singing the 3’s song, with me singing right along. There’s a fun little ditty that lists all of the multiples – 3, 6, 9, 12, 15, 18, 21, 24, 27, 30.
By then, I was walking the kids down the hallway, and I added, “And don’t forget 33 and 36!”
Even though the songs stop at ten times the number, I test the kids up to twelve times the number since that’s what they’ll need to know for fourth grade.
As we walked, Tyler asked, “Mister Woodson, do you know 3 times one million?”
I said, “Yes, it’s 3 million.”
About five kids in line gave an awed, “WHOAAAAA” – the same sound uttered by a crowded stadium when Blake Griffin jumps over a car and delivers a tomahawk dunk.
Ava then asked, “Do you know SIX times one million??”
Warming to my audience, I replied with a flourish, “But of course – 6 million!”
By now there were murmurings in the line that I might be the second coming.
Felipe then pulled out his big guns. He asked, “Mister Woodson, do you know what is four… plus... three?”
I was a bit surprised by the simplicity of his question, but I replied, “Um, yeah, seven.”
“Oh yeah!!” Felipe exclaimed, with a beatific smile on his face, as if I had just told him the meaning of life, and it involved never having to read again and an endless supply of Hot Cheetos.
If I had had a magician’s smoke pellet, I could have thrown it down to the ground and disappeared to complete the grand act.
I suppose the lesson here is that I should focus on impressing the kids with my number sense, and not my knowledge of potent potables.
See ya,
Cal Q Later
Date: Friday, February 26, 2010
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: No chain, no gain
Freddy,
Clearly you’re just jealous that you don’t have anyone in your life that is easily impressed by the ability to add single-digit numbers. Though you might try your luck showing off your division skills with Nancy up front. I hear she’s got a thing for math nerds.
If you weren’t just being sarcastic, I can certainly sing you the 3’s song next time I see you. I’ll warn you, however. Once you get it stuck in your head, that song will not go away. It’s more pervasive than the Smurfs theme song!
For the past couple of weeks in science, our smurfing topic of discussion has been producers, consumers, and food chains. When I first asked the class what a food chain was, Jacob said, “It’s where families go to eat on Valentine’s Day.”
Close, but no cigar. Not to be confused with FAST food chains, the regular run-of-the-mill type of food chains are those fun little paths that lead from producer to consumer. All chains start with a plant, followed by an animal that eats that plant, then an animal that eats THAT animal. A typical example might be as follows:
corn - chicken - person
It always takes me a while to convince my class that, in the science world, people are animals. Every year, there’s at least one smarty pants who argues, “Nuh-uh! People are MAMMALS!!”
I usually combat this by stooping to their level.
Me: “Is Victor a human being?”
Kids: “YES!!”
Me: “Nuh-uh! Victor is a BOY!!”
I’m all about developing those critical thinking skills.
The producer/consumer concept just throws more gas on the fire. The fact that animals – and thus humans – cannot make their own food is another stumbling block for the kids. I always get a chorus of arguments.
“I can TOO make my own food! I can make a turkey sandwich, and sometimes my mommy lets me make spaghettios!”
I think I’ll start showing Food Network videos in class, to highlight the difference between PRODUCING your food and PREPARING your food. Plants, and only plants, have the ability to create their own food through photosynthesis. My kids can slap a meal together, through a process I like to call dodosynthesis.
Anyway, last night, I gave an extra credit homework assignment which was to make and illustrate a food chain. I got some very interesting submissions. Here are a few proposed chains that we will not be seeing in nature anytime soon:
Corn - Lion - Shark
Unless it’s a land shark, of course. Candygram!
Bananas - Monkey - Ape
That would be cannibalism, kids, and that’s just wrong.
Apples - Horse - Me
At first, I thought she was saying she was hungry enough to eat a horse, but maybe she was making a reference to Jell-O?
Strawberry - Ferret - Fox - Brontosaurus
Silly kid! Now this is truly ridiculous. Brontosaurus is a PLANT eater!
Then there were several who just didn’t get the concept at all.
Dog - Food - Pedigree - Flea spray
Um, FOOD chain, my dear girl, not product line.
Fan - Air - Energy
Wow, a metaphysical food chain!
Dog food - Dog - Car
I asked about this, and the writer told me it was because cars hit dogs sometimes.
And my first annual winner of the “No Clue Chain” Award…
Banana - Corn - Soup - Tomato - Apple - Popcorn chicken
This was accompanied by a picture with the caption, “This is Eddie eating corn and tomato and banana.” Check plus for making a chain of food; check minus for comprehending the actual concept.
Quite obviously, this lesson falls under the heading – RETEACH!
Still, it did give me my favorite food chain of all time:
Strawberry - Squirrel - Snake - Chinese person
Nice integration of Science and Social Studies from Smoker Anna, a born overachiever.
After lunch (during which time the kids fulfilled their role as top of the food chain), I received a formal observation. Once or twice a year, Mrs. Forest or Ms. Zapata comes and sits in on the class for 30-45 minutes. This is part of our yearly evaluation, but it always makes me nervous. Not that I have anything to hide – I’m always very careful to meticulously hide the weapons of math destruction – but I hate speaking in front of adults. Throw me in front of a thousand kids and I’m fine, but add a grown-up or two to the mix, and I suffer a massive anxiety attack. You may remember the deep shade of fire engine I always turned when asked to give my status update at production meetings.
The observation went pretty well I thought. I did my best to keep Shelly from writing notes, Victor from visiting Planet Zorlon, and Joaqim from being overly Joaqimly. Two things did stand out, though.
First, Mia raised her hand to show me her answer to the problem of the day. I glanced at it, saw that it was correct, gave her a thumbs up, and said, “Very nice!”
She immediately replied with her patented and unique form of thank you – “YOU A GOOD TEACHER!!”
Maybe it was just my imagination that she said it twice as loud as normal, but I don’t think so.
A little while later, Tyler made everyone aware that he had conquered the problem he was working on. He did this by slamming his hand down on his desk and shouting, “KHAN-TAY!”
I can only hope Mrs. Forest will appreciate my students’ passion and excitement for learning. And that she won’t ever ask me to explain their thinking process. Linear food chains, I can handle. These kids’ chains of thought – no clue.
Talk to you later,
Herb E Vorr
Date: Wednesday, March 3, 2010
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: Use the quarts, Luke
Hey dude,
I’m very saddened that you would make such a cruel food chain poster and put it in Latya’s cubicle. I mean, really?
Excessive amounts of candy and potato chips - Latya
That’s just wrong, dude.
It’s wrong because all food chains are supposed to start with a plant. I thought I said that before.
Something else that might be wrong – I haven’t talked to Jill in about a week and a half now. I’ve gotten a few short texts saying she’s been busy, but that’s about it. I’m trying not to read anything into this, but I’m starting to wonder if I should be worried.
I don’t want to dwell on that, though, so I’ll dive right into this week’s brand new objective for third grade – capacity. The kids are of course unfamiliar with the topic, and it’s a topic that I am pretty unfamiliar with myself. As a former engineer, I know a lot about measurement in terms of length and temperature, but I don’t have much experience with pints and milliliters. There were a few questions I needed to answer before trying to teach the concept.
Why does the abbreviation for ounces have a “z” in it?
How many pints are there in a buttload?
Is it ever truly acceptable to use the word “dram” in civilized conversation?
Monday morning came with the anticipated confusion. For kids who have trouble remembering the difference between a square and a rectangle, capacity seemed doomed from the quart. I introduced the customary units first, but most of the units were words the kids had never even heard before. I may as well have said 2 snerks equals 1 plekt, and 8 crells in a doogy.
After the strange words had been introduced, though, I focused on real-world examples. I showed the kids a milk jug to represent a gallon and a Gatorade bottle to represent a quart. A peek into my home fridge led to the discovery that a bottle of Kraft ranch salad dressing holds exactly 1 pint, so I brought that in for show and tell as well. I found something that has a capacity of exactly 1 liter, but I opted to leave the bottle of Absolut at home.
Inspired by my own kitchen raid, I gave the kids an extra credit homework assignment last night. I asked them to go home and look through their refrigerators, freezers, and pantries. They may not have had a firm grasp on the concept of capacity, but I figured they could at least recognize the units on containers. They made lists of all of the containers they found, along with the capacity of each.
Reading through the lists today was one of the most entertaining things I’ve done in my classroom all year long. Maybe it’s juvenile of me, but I laughed for almost ten minutes when I saw Tiny Anna’s list, which included a “2-Liter bottle of Cock” (and Cock Zero!).
There were a few examples of missing decimal points – 612 gallons of barbecue sauce, 277 gallons of mustard, 118 liters of Mr. Clean. Either that, or someone owns stock in the wholesale store.
Soda and milk were on most lists, but items like Ms. Butterworth (1 pt, 8 oz), champagne (1.05 pt), and Hooter’s hot sauce (5 fl oz) were unique. Perhaps with all of the varying liquids, it was inevitable that Maalox (355 mL) would make an appearance as well.
Most kids didn’t limit themselves to food and drink alone. Lists included body oil (473 mL), Dawn dish soap (1.18 qt), and Tilex (1 pt).
After letting the kids have a few moments to share items from their lists with each other, I led them into the main part of today’s lesson. I had something new that I wanted to try out.
A little while ago, I read a book called The Prisoner of Trebekistan. In it, former Jeopardy champion Bob Harris talks a lot about memory devices that he used while studying for the game show. His studying led him to the conclusion that things and events that make an outrageous or hilarious impression last the longest in memory. And it seems to have worked well for him.
That got me to thinking what sorts of humorous things I could do to try to leave a lasting mark in my students’ memories. In other words, how many times can I make a complete fool of myself in the name of mathematic academics?
Let’s start the ticker at one.
Today, I decided to be a Jedi. I took a quick poll and verified that all of my kids were familiar with Star Wars. Sadly, they were only acquainted with the Jar Jar Binks trilogy, but for the purposes of my lesson, I was able to work around that. Doing my best Obi-Wan Kenobi impersonation, I informed the kids that our new motto was going to be, “May the quarts be with you.”
After we passed that mantra around a few times, I told them we could also say, “May the FOURTHS be with you.”
Then we went over how this motto could help someone remember that there are four cups in a quart, and four quarts in a gallon, not to mention the fact that there are four letters in the words Jedi, Star, and Wars.
The kids in my morning class seemed to enjoy this immensely. Miles even pulled the hood of his jacket over his head, taking on the persona of a Jedi Knight, before doing a small bow and saying, “May the fourths be with you.”
Most of the kids in my afternoon class, though, looked at me as though I was speaking Chinese or talking about subtraction.
Oh well, all it takes is that one connection. Besides, as they say, “Who’s the more foolish – the fool, or the fool who follows him?”
Maybe tomorrow I’ll introduce them to a Math Jedi’s greatest weapon… the Pint-Saber.
Your friend,
Fearless Liter
Date: Friday, March 5, 2010
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: Vision: Impossible
Hey dude,
I’m telling you, I don’t even know how many pints are in a regular buttload. So how am I supposed to know how many pints are in a METRIC buttload?
After a full week, I’d say my kids have as firm a grasp on capacity as they are likely to get. At the very least, I feel confident that none of them will ever walk into a liquor store later in life and ask for five pounds of beer.
Somebody apparently wasn’t happy with the capacity of a bottle of Elmer’s glue. I learned this the hard way out at the bus line this afternoon. My bus started to pull away from the curb, and there was a tremendous BANG. I quickly realized two things: first, somebody had positioned a bottle of glue under the back tire of the bus, and second, my pants were covered in glue.
I was not a happy camper. Quite frankly, I’m STILL pretty ticked off about it, so rather than subject you to my anger, I’ll switch gears and talk about something more ridiculous (though par for the course).
Yesterday, Shelly presented me with a very odd statement. I’ve come to expect odd statements from her, but this was odd even by her standards. We had just returned to my classroom after the restroom break that follows recess. Which means that it was around 12:45, and Shelly had already been in my room for an hour before lunch and recess.
It wasn’t until that moment, however, that she chose to inform me, “Last night, I was watching TV, and it blinded me. I can’t see my paper.” Her paper, of course, being the math journal on her desk, a foot and a half from her face.
As you might imagine, I was a bit skeptical. I mean, when MY television blinds ME late at night, I don’t get my vision back temporarily in the morning and then lose it again after lunch. Heck, even Han Solo didn’t come out of his Carbonite suspension just fine only to go blind a day later.
Shelly persisted, however, and wouldn’t do any of her work, so I finally took her across the hall to Mrs. Bird’s room. I asked her if Shelly had done any of her reading and social studies work that morning, or if she had been too blind. Mrs. Bird is either used to our kids doing crazy things OR me asking crazy questions, so she wasn’t fazed at all by our visit. She responded like a consummate professional that Shelly had appeared to have perfect vision and had done all of her work.
In the hallway, before we reentered my classroom, I tried a new tact. I told Shelly that Mrs. Fitzgerald had commented on how nice it was that Shelly had picked some flowers for her during recess. I added that it would be very difficult for someone to pick flowers and make a nice little bouquet if that someone was vision-impaired.
Shelly stared at me blankly (yes, this IS the same girl who calls me Miss Woodson) and finally said, “But… But some of the flowers were upside down!”
Is that one of the sure signs of blindness or something? “Flowers were upside down – driver’s license denied!”
I didn’t get much work out of Shelly for the rest of the day, but I had a talk with her parents last night, and thankfully, I didn’t hear any more claims of blindness today.
From HER, that is...
Today, most of our kids went outside for recess, but I kept a small group of misbehaviors in my room. When my class came back inside, another little girl – Hillary – approached me and said, “Mister Woodson, I got pushed down outside on the playground and now I can’t see. The nurse said I need to have someone in the classroom lead me around.”
