Showing posts with label school stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school stories. Show all posts

Monday, September 19, 2011

DeLorean time machines, giant hamster balls, and sick teachers



This group of kiddos is way more cognitively with-it than I’m used to.  On the first day of school, the FIRST DAY, mind you, one student asked me if I knew that Chester from the Kissing Hand (a great first day book) was nocturnal.  http://www.amazon.com/Kissing-Hand-Audrey-Penn/dp/0878685855 – some lessons, here - http://www.mrsnelsonsclass.com/teacherresources/storylessons/kissinghand.aspx.  She also sprung “camouflaged” on me.  And another student asked if ‘The Kissing Hand’ was nonfiction.  I was so confused I started bawling, just to hear a sound that I was accustomed to.  The students asked me if I need an epidural needle.  Three of them were expert in the technique, and a fourth once completed a doctorate on the comparison of the epidural to the Boo-Boo kiss.

Actually, that reminds me.  I have been sick, and after two weeks, the students have started to look at me in mild disgust when I practice my whale call and fog horn imitations with a tissue.  Firstly, you never know when you might become stranded in a fog-lit boat in the middle of an ocean night.  Secondly, although they clearly view themselves as my intellectual superiors, they at least offer helpful advice. “You should be in bed, Mr. Gardner.”  “You need nose medicine, Mr. Gardner.  My mom has nose medicine.”  “You didn’t give us our gumballs, yesterday, Mr. Gardner.” (I color in gumballs at the end of the day – 10 equals treasure box. One of these students is not receiving a pleasant letter in the ‘takes care of teacher’ category of the progress report.)

The same student who mentioned nocturnal threw ‘Satyr’ at me a couple of days, later.  Who the devil throws ‘satyr’ around? I think that was quite possibly the first time I’ve heard the word come up in conversation.  Another student is reading at a DRE level 18.  She now spends half her day with a first grade/second grade mix.  I tried for just first grade, but they just laughed when I mentioned her reading level.  I asked the student how she would feel about reading with second graders, but she just muttered under her breath that she had already calculated this outcome to a 97.893 degree of probability, and had already mentally scanned ahead to the second grade room, and deemed them at least remotely acceptable.  She then levitated through the hallway to the next room, while I lumbered out of breath behind her with a runny nose and a normal I.Q.

Back in the classroom, six of my students had designed a functional DeLorean time machine to allow them more recess time.  Only they improved the original design.  Now, instead of a vehicle moving at 88 miles per hour, it only requires a medium sized adult running for thirteen minutes inside of a giant, plastic, hamster ball.  They offered to let me help them out with the final modifications tomorrow.  I’m pretty excited.  I’ve never worked on a real time-machine, before.  I wonder what I’ll be able to do to help.  I haven’t much experience in engineering.  



Testing phonemes is usually loads of fun with my students.  “I’m going to say parts of a word.  Tell me the word I am saying.  “/Ch/-/ew/”
-“Shampoo!”

“/I/-/ce/”
-“Snake!”

/Ch/ – /ores/”
-“Whores!”

This group, though, provided me with this:

“/l/-/ife/”
-“Hmmmm, like me!  I’m living.”

“/H/-/ush/”
-“Like, to be quiet”

“/Sm/-/art/”
-“Like me!  I’m a smart girl.”

“/S/-/ick/”
-“Like Mr. Gardner!”

“Yeah, I’m going to go ahead and count these.  Next!”

-“Like a nexus!  A connection, or series of connections, linking two or more things.”

“Oh, god.  Next!  Next!”





Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Pink Fuzzy Handcuffs and Other February Snippets.

Today, after after-school (no, that wasn't a typo), one of the first graders tried calling her mom to find out when she was getting picked up.  She talked into the phone a little, then listened intently. She handed us back the phone and told us that her mom would call us back.
"Why is your mom going to call us back?  Hold on." ::the secretary redials the number and listens:: "Honey, that was the answering machine."


-----
After being in kindergarten for a few months, I'm already beginning to spell words phonetically. "Famile" "Hav".  Yep, looks right to me.


-----
I have to say my favorite valentine message went as follows: "You are the nicest princess around".  Hells, yeah.  I'm one bad-ass princess and don't you forget it!  It even came with a punch-out ring.


-----
A couple of days ago, a kindergartener told me she had "boy pee in her backpack." 
“You have what?” 
"Boy pee." 
[Ummmm, I’m sure that can't be what she's saying...] "Show me?”  She proceeds to open her backpack.  “Ohhhhhh, you have a BARBIE in your backpack.”  Still working on that whole kindergarten language barrier.


-----
Yesterday, one of the kindergarten girls brought handcuffs to school for show and tell.   Pink, fluffy handcuffs.   Which belonged to her Grandmother.  She told me that her grandma bought them, and if she loses them, she'll turn her black and blue.  I reaaaaaaaaaaaaaally don't want to hear the details about this one.  Just don't bring them tomorrow.


-----
I discovered that a fourth or fifth grade girl at our school, when she gets home, calls the school, and keeps dialing until she gets someone/anyone in a classroom. She then proceeds to sing into the phone, at full volume, with music in the background, for a long, long, long amount of time.  And she does this every single day.  I was in one of the fourth grade classrooms when it happened, and the teacher put it on speaker phone. She certainly wasn't afraid to belt it out.  The teacher said she almost never answers anymore when she sees who's calling.  But she doesn't feel bad, as the student will just keep trying different classrooms till someone else picks up.  I guess she's home alone and becomes bored.  Knowing the girl, I never would have expected her to do this.  The teacher even tried to break in a few times, and we tried applauding, but she just kept on going.

-----

"You hear that? There are dinosaurs coming!  I can hear their footsteps.  I can also tell they're coming because Mr. Gardner's hair is moving."

Uh-huh. That's right. Mr. Gardner's hair is a sure sign of impending dinosaurs.


The window of the first class I'm in during the morning is directly across from the V.E. room I used to work in. Well, apparently, one of my old students (you may remember him as "Check your zipper!  Check your zipper!") just realized this, because he burst into the V.E. room and exclaimed: "I know what happened to Mr. Gardner!  She took him!" Well, Della had no recourse but to lead him to me, so he could accuse Kris (the teacher) of stealing me.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Spelling Tests and the Latin word for Vagina.

The students took a spelling test, today.  One of our students ("Check your zipper!") is very sweet, but he does have an anger/stubborn streak in him.  Especially if he thinks he’s in the right and is being cheated.  He had quite the row when playing a Memory card game.  He didn’t believe that the other student could go again after making a match.  Not because he was losing, but because he thought the other student was trying to cheat.  He's small but fierce. 

Ironically, this came full circle.  We’re in the middle of taking the spelling test, when the teacher notices him sneaking something from his pocket.  He had the words written down on a piece of paper and was stealing glances.  She took him out into the hallway to talk with him about it, and he grew furious.  He started loudly protesting and blaming the teacher.  The principal happened by during this and tried to see if he could help sort it out.  Apparently, verbatim, the student’s issue was that the teacher “hadn’t told them that they couldn’t keep the words in their pocket and look at them.”  Let’s face it, the kid has a point.  Our bad.


Let’s move away from my school, for a moment, and visit a friend’s school.  On the private, affluent level.  Just for kicks.  My friend teaches art there.   She related this story to me. One of the coaches is named Coach Willey (very nice guy, unfortunate name).  An older student (somewhere between fourth and seventh) had written a pleasant little ditty in the locker room: "Coach Willey has a vagina".  Very deep and well thought out.  A kindergartner later finds this, and tells another one of the coaches.  Only he doesn't  know the last word, so in relating what was on the wall, he states, "It says coach Willey has a...v…vag… I think it's Latin."

That's right, kids.  Latin.  Kindergartners are commenting on Latin.  Another student (keep in mind, we're talking second grade or less, here)...well, hold on.  Preamble:  My friend's last name is Gross. The little ones don't like to call her Mrs. Gross, because they think they're being rude or mean. They have told her this.  She has reassured them that it is okay, because that is her name, but they still hesitate every time they have to say it.  Anyway, one of the little tykes commented that, because it's German, it's probably pronounced [Grauss].  A second grader.  Or younger.  Correcting German.  I don't even know if they were right, but I wouldn't be too surprised.  What the hell do they feed these kids?

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Check Your Zipper!

I've taken a long-term position as a Teacher's Assistant in an elementary Varying Exceptionality class. The main teacher was out, so there was a substitute in the room, as well as myself.
Before lining up for lunch, the substitute asked the kids whether they knew the days of the week (in order). Sadly, many did not (apparently we need to review). She also asked if any knew the names of the days in Spanish.
One of our kids is a very small second grader. Picture a cute little child who's missing his two front teeth and has a slight speech impediment.
He doesn’t know any Spanish, but he was so eager to answer a question that he was standing up, raising his hand, and yelling "Ooh! Ooh!"  Keep in mind that he doesn't know any Spanish.  While this is happening, I notice that his zipper is down.  So, I whisper over to him, "Check your zipper!" Hearing me, he thinks I’m feeding him an answer and redoubles his effort to be noticed.
Trying to keep from laughing, I quietly call him over to me.  He rushes over, eyes still on the substitute and nearly shaking with excitement.  I whisper, again, "No, check YOUR zipper!" He nods enthusiastically and bolts back to his desk.  He proceeds to jump up and down with his hand raised, and yells, excitedly and repeatedly, "Check your zipper! Check your zipper!"
            And that’s when I passed out from laughing.

---


Our students really do need and thrive on stability.  They have trouble adjusting to a substitute if the main teacher is out.  Having me there tends to keep some level of normality (zipper checking aside).  Yesterday, we were both gone.  One of my students did not handle it well.  Apparently, he freaked out and grew enraged.  He starting throwing papers around the room and then threw a desk over.  The sub had to call the principal in, and he came and took him to the office.  Once there, the student then proceeded to try and shove the principal’s desk.  The principal had to physically restrain him (one of two of the adults on campus who's legally allowed and trained to do so).  As he's holding him down, my student is letting loose with a volley of angry curses.  It's a never-ending stream of grammatical discovery.  Entire sentences are diagramed and brand new pairings of noun-verb-adjective-adverbs are revealed.  He's a third grader, but he swears at least a tenth-grade level.  At one point during this eloquent elocution, he's so out of breath that he belches.  At which point he pauses, says, “excuse me,” and then goes back to cursing.  Remember: Politeness, first, people.



Sunday, July 3, 2011

Poop and Cupcakes, Part 2

             Now.  We’ve arrived back from the station.  I’ve had a bit of a talk with them about line business and what-have you, and then we’re off to lunch (which is late and at the end of our day except for specials.  Which means you would think my day was pretty much concluded.  It wasn’t).  I drop the kids off at lunch, tell the aides that it’s okay if they use the cafeteria restroom, as I didn’t really give them the opportunity to go beforehand, and exit for my own lunch.
            When I come back to pick them up, I find out that one of my students, Teddy, had been in a fight in the bathroom.  Apparently the aide was letting too many boys go to the bathroom at one time.  I heard which students were involved, and called the one not from my class over to me first as  my student is a good kid, but doesn’t shy from telling stories in a way that casts him in a more positive light.
            So I hear the others student (Q’s) story, first, and then call mine over to get the other half.  And this is what I piece together.  As said, too many boys were in the bathroom at the same time, and when Teddy was in the stall, a student from a different classroom (J), opened the door on him, and Teddy felt like J was watching him pee.  So, when Teddy walked out of the stall, he was very upset and angry.  And Q, seeing this, thought Teddy was going to fight with J, so he tried to stop him.  By holding his hand out.  Into Teddy’s neck.  Thus followed a slight scuffle.
            After hearing the story, it made sense in my mind how it came about, and I could understand their sides.  So I didn’t really punish them as talk with them about it for a bit, and then moved on.
            I take my kids back to class, where we have time for a quick read-aloud and lesson at the rocking chair before specials.  Thus do we do so.  A few minutes into this, the students in my front row start making faces and groaning and holding their noses.  This has happened before when a student has gas, so I repeat that that’s rude and you need to ignore.  Not thinking any more of it, I line them up for specials – coach.  They’re in line, I walk to the front, and immediately smell poop.
            I quietly ask the first five students if any of them had accident.  “No. No. No. No. No.”  Oooookay.  Maybe it’s in the hall.  We start to walk down the hall.  Still smell poop.  I tell them to stop.  I ask them individually again. “No. No. No. No. No.”  I tell them to wait here.  I walk to the end of the hall. Test the air.  No poop.  Call my students forward.  The line stops where I am.  Poop.
            I ask again, still quietly, but more forcefully.  One student admits to having had an accident.  The student whose birthday it was (remember?  The cupcakes?  Time-out chair at the fire station? Yeah, him.  Eddie.)
            I take the class to coach, but keep him with me.  I also kept back another student.  One who had been pushing and whining and hanging on me almost the entire time since making it to the fire station.  I take both to the clinic.  The later to nap, the former to change his clothes. 
But first, he tells me his story.  Apparently, at lunch, Eddie asked to go the bathroom.  The aide said yes, and he walked in, just as the “fight” happened, and he got nervous and left without going to the bathroom.  Correction. He did go to the bathroom. Just in his pants.  And he didn’t tell anyone.  For thirty minutes.
So I drop the kids off at the clinic (the nurse loves me. She really does), and run back to my room.  The nurse didn’t have any pants.  I look around the closet and find an extra pair of pants, and bring it back to her, then rush back to my room again.  At this point, I have maybe twenty minutes to fill out agendas (including a large note about Teddy. – my losing his sunglasses which I don’t mind reimbursing,  and his sort-of fight, and about Eddie. – time-out at the fire-station and why he went poopy in his pants).  I also have to put together their gifts from the fire-station – workbooks and hats.  I’m working frantically when Eddie. comes back into the room.  Still wearing his original shorts.
Me – “Eddie, you’re still wearing your shorts.”
Eddie – “Yeah.”
Me – “Why aren’t you wearing the pants I gave you?”
Eddie- “No.  I’m wearing my shorts.”
Me – “I know you’re wearing your shorts. Why are you wearing them?  You’re supposed to be wearing the pants.”
Eddie (exasperated) – “No!  I’m wearing my shorts.”
This goes on for a good five minutes before I figure out that he apparently put up a fuss about his shorts, and the nurse gave up, smelled them, said they were fine, and let him wear them (though he did change his underwear).
At this point it’s time for me to grab my kids, and I haven’t finished getting everything together.  The end of the day, by the way, is crazy. We have five minutes to get them back, get them packed, and get them out the door to their designated areas.  And one of my students (Joseph), comes to me from V.E., and rides the first bus outside, which means we have to book it, and are always rushed.
So I grab him, go back for the kids, come back, frantically have them grab their backpacks, get their papers, and sit by me so I can finish handing out agendas and fire station goodies. 
Eddie – “Do I have tutoring?”
Me – “No. It’s Friday. You never have tutoring on Friday.  And don’t forget your clothes (the nurse had placed his dirty underwear in a plastic bag and given it to him)
The bell rings, we’re still getting ready.  I line them up for buses, Joseph first.
Me - “Eddie!  Do you have your bag?”
Eddie – “Yes.”
(Side note: I completely forgot to mention. Eddie had brought cupcakes, you’ll remember. At some point, after the fire station, we had them.)
At the last second I see Eddie’s extra container of cupcakes – which I had placed at his desk so he wouldn’t forget them – They were still sitting at his desk, so I grab them. 
Me, to my bus line – “Okay, let’s…”
Student – “Mr. Gardner!  I found this by the backpacks!”
I look down.  It’s Eddie’s bag of dirty underwear.  Awesome.
“I’ll take it.  Okay.  Let’s go!”
And I walk out the door, the bus riders lined up behind me.  I go through the workroom, cut across another teacher’s classroom, open the door to the bus hallway.  Look behind me.  Annnnnnnnd, no students.  No one had followed me.  I turn around, still holding cupcakes and poopy underwear, head back through the classroom, through the workroom, and back into my classroom.  My line is just standing there, with Joseph at the lead.
“Joseph!  We have to go!  Come on!”  Turn back around, still holding cupcakes and poop, back through the workroom, back through the classroom, back into the hallway.  No students.  I spin around, run back to class.  Joseph’s looking at me blankly while the students are yelling at him to go.  “Come on! You’re going to miss the bus!”  This time he and rest of the class follow me, and I’m practically rushing them through the hallway to busses, with the cupcakes and poopy underwear  bag still in hand.  I sit them down, get Joseph onto his bus, and turn around to give Eddie his missing items.  Annnnnnnd, no Eddie.
“Where’s Eddie!?!?!”
No answer.  I rush back down the hallway, still carrying poop and cupcakes, and almost run into Teddy.  I ask him where Eddie is.  “He said he had tutoring! I tried to tell him he didn’t!”
“I already told him he didn’t have tutoring!  Go join the class.”
And I rush into my room.  No Eddie.  Check the bathroom.  Nope.  Run out the other door and to the cafeteria (where he meets for tutoring on the other days).  Nope.  I rush to the car riders.  Still holding cupcakes and poop.  Kids see me and try to give me hugs. “Not a good time…” as I hold my prizes above shoulder level.  Outside.  No Eddie.  Run back to busses.  No Eddie.  I load the other kids onto the bus.  Exasperated, I call the office and have them do an all call for him.  Sure enough, two minutes later, he shows up.
Me – “Eddie!  Where were you???”
Eddie – “I thought I had tutoring!
Me – “I told you, you didn’t have tutoring!  Where did you go?
Eddie – “To where we have snack.”
Me – “Even though no one else was there?”
Eddie – “Yes.  I didn’t know.”
Me. – “Fine.  Here are your cupcakes.  Here’s your underwear.”  I hand him his poop and cupcakes.  “Now get on the bus.”


And that’s how I ended my field trip to the fire-station.