Close Encounters of the Third-Grade Kind (11 page)

I’m convinced that there really are only two types of people in the world — those with neat desks like my boss’s and those
with messy desks like mine.
Tidys
and
Messys,
I call them. It really is a Mars-and-Venus sort of thing. The two groups do not understand each other.
Tidys
roll their eyes at
Messys
and make jokes about us waiting for the File Fairy to come clean up our piles.
Messys
long to be accepted by
Tidys.
That’s why you will occasionally see
Messys
shaking their doormats wildly out in front of their classrooms. We want
Tidys
to see us cleaning.

You know those decorating magazines that show cluttered rooms transformed into organized ones? Well, the “before” photos are
always taken at a
Messy
’s place.
Tidys
do the makeovers. Sometimes in those magazines there are quizzes to see how organized you are. You answer questions like:
Do you leave your keys in the same place? Do you keep your desk neat and organized? Can you find your stapler today?

But
Messys
understand something that
Tidys
do not: A cluttered work space can serve as an invaluable teaching tool. Take our planet, for example. A messy desk provides
the perfect illustration for teaching students about the layers of the earth. On every messy desk you’ll find the December
dittos stacked on top of November’s grades, which are piled on October’s correcting basket, covering September’s lesson plans.
Just like the layers of our planet, the older layers are on the bottom and the newer ones are on the top. I wouldn’t be surprised
if hole punches and scissors lodged between the piles eventually began to fossilize.

A desk like mine can also be used to simulate a multitude of forces in nature. When a child bumps into my desk and disrupts
one of the piles, students observe the seismic shift of an earthquake. If one of the piles collapses, children witness firsthand
how landslides move. When the teacher sweeps everything on top of his desk into a large box the day before Open House, children
see just how quickly deforestation can wipe out an entire rain forest.

With a messy desk — who needs a social studies text? For my geography unit, I have used the stacks and piles on my desk to
illustrate mountains, hills, caves, caverns, highlands, lowlands, canyons, peaks, valleys, plateaus, crevasses, wilderness
territory, and badlands. When the piles spread onto nearby counters and tables, students understand urban sprawl.

And don’t forget about Mr. Columbus. Digging through a messy desk also provides the perfect metaphor for Columbus’s voyage.
In fact, it is a metaphor for
any
exploration. All of the great explorers faced disappointment, experienced hardships, adjusted their courses, and overcame
adversity. Last week when I realized my keys were missing, I started searching the corner of my desk (
embarked on my quest
). I lifted piles and dug under papers but couldn’t find them anywhere (
disappointment
). After no success, I switched to the other side of the desk (
changed my course
). Suddenly my coffee cup spilled all over the desk (
hardship
). The kids began to laugh (
further hardship
). I ran to the back of the room to get paper towels and mopped up the spill (
overcame adversity
). Then I continued my search (
forged ahead
). Finally, I spotted the end of the key chain, pulled it out from under a stack of books, and shouted, “I found them!” (
joy of discovery
).

This morning after I finished reading to my students, I excused them back to their seats and tossed the Columbus book on my
desk. All of a sudden the tallest pile on the edge came tumbling down into the wastebasket. There was a loud crash. The basket
tipped over. Papers spilled out all over the floor. Everyone stopped and stared at the mess.

“It’s an avalanche!” Trevor shrieked.

What did I tell you? They learn so much.

Not sure if you’re a
Messy
or a
Tidy
? Take the following test and find out.

1. Do you have shoe boxes stacked on the top shelf in your bedroom closet for diorama projects? If yes, give yourself 1 point.
   Under your bed? 2 points.
   
2. Do you have enough pie tins, glass jars, and plastic cottage cheese tubs under your sink at school to start a recycling
   center? 1 point.
   
3. When you look at the wilted celery in the vegetable bin in your refrigerator, do you think,
   Good. Bunny food
   ? If yes, 1 point.
   
4. Have you ever worn a sweater to work over your shirt even though it was a hot day because nothing at home was ironed? 1
   point.
   
5. Does your laundry basket look like the Lost and Found box at school? If so, 1 point.
   
6. Do you find White Elephant gifts easily in your home? If yes, 1 point.
   
7. Are all the alphabet letters on your refrigerator in alphabetical order? If not, 1 point.
   
8. When describing your classroom, do you prefer the words
   relaxed, comfortable,
   and
   lived-in
   ? 1 point.
   
9. Do you have school stuff in the passenger seat of your car? 1 point. In the passenger seat
   and
   the backseat? 2 points. Is your trunk full, too? 3 points.
   
10. Can your students write their spelling words in the dust on your TV? 1 point.
    

Score of 0: My principal will love you.

Score of 1–5: You cheated.

Score of 6 or more: You can eat lunch with me.

T
hird graders look like little jack-o’-lanterns. Half my kids are missing some of their front teeth. The other half have their
hands in their mouths trying to pull their teeth out.

I can always tell when a child is close to losing one. She speaks to me while turning and twisting and yanking on some poor
little baby tooth. “Don’t pull it out at school!” I cry. But they don’t listen to me. They keep tugging away. There is money
at stake here.

By third grade some children don’t believe in Santa anymore, and some have their doubts about the Easter Bunny. But more than
90 percent of them still believe in the Tooth Fairy. I’m not sure why exactly. Maybe it’s because she is the only one who
brings cash.

Have you seen what the Tooth Fairy is bringing these days? When I was a kid, she usually brought nickels and dimes. Nowadays
some kids get a dollar a tooth. This year when Emily lost a molar, she got ten bucks! At that rate I’m tempted to pull out
a few of my own.

The kindergarten and first-grade teachers on my campus are always prepared. If their kids lose a tooth at school, they get
to take it home in a Tooth Taxi. Tooth Taxis are black plastic film containers decorated with pictures of Tommy the Tooth
driving in a yellow cab. These containers are coveted. In fact, parents have reported that their children will do all they
can to
not
lose their teeth at home just so they can get one.

I don’t send teeth home with Tommy the Tooth. When my students come to me with a bloody, newly pulled tooth, I just say, “Grab
an envelope. Right-hand desk drawer. I don’t need to see it.”

I should probably carry envelopes with me. Once we were on a field trip watching a play when Emily screamed, “I lost my tooth!”
Everyone turned around. Emily got up in the middle of the show, crawled over twenty kids, and handed me the tooth.
What am I supposed to do with this?
For some reason, all children deliver their newly pulled teeth to their teachers. It is automatic — like handing over every
staple they find in the carpet during story time. I dropped Emily’s tooth in my shirt pocket.

When I was in my tooth-losing years, I was always afraid that the Tooth Fairy would not find my room — or worse yet would
mistake my brother’s room for mine and give him the money instead of me! So I’d make signs with arrows pointing to my bedroom
and plaster the whole house. She always found me.

There was that one terrible time when the Tooth Fairy forgot to come. I was devastated. Then my dad explained the Tooth Fairy’s
rules. She likes the open end of the pillowcase facing out so she does not get tangled up when putting the money under the
pillow. The next night I made sure to have the case open on the correct side. She came. I got double my normal rate.

In third grade, I was determined to catch the Tooth Fairy. One night I heard the bedroom door open slowly and pretended to
be asleep.
That’s her,
I thought.
She’s here!
I didn’t move. I kept my eyes shut. Then all of a sudden there was a loud noise. Everything I had barricaded behind the door
came tumbling down.

“What the… ,” I heard a voice cry.

I sat bolt upright and pointed my flashlight at the door.

“Dad! What are you doing here?”

“Uh, well, I… I came to see if the Tooth Fairy had come yet.”

“No! Get out! She won’t come if she sees you!”

Last year, my mom handed me a shoe box with all the letters I ever wrote to the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, and the Easter Bunny.
When I lifted the lid, I pretended to be shocked. “How did
you
get these?” She laughed. I pulled out a few letters and read them. My baby teeth were still inside the envelopes.

Dear Tooth Fairy,

This is my third tooth. Last year I got a dime. This year I would like a quarter. My dad says there is inflation.

Dear Tooth Fairy,

I have another loose tooth. It’s the same tooth as last time but on the other side. Please send me a picture of you. I want
to bring it in for Show and Tell. Everyone says you are not real but I believe in you. My bedtime is 8 o’clock so you can
come by anytime after that.

Dear Tooth Fairy,

Instead of money could you please bring a guinea pig?

It seems like every month one of my third graders is losing a tooth. Earlier in the year, David was pushing a loose one back
and forth with his tongue.

“I hope it’s not your sweet tooth,” I joked, trying to sound serious. “Then you can’t taste any more candy.”

He looked worried.

One day after I had just handed Chloe an envelope, she said, “Mr. Done, how does the Tooth Fairy find all the children?”

I started to answer. “Well…”

“I know,” Trevor interjected. “My mom says she uses GPS.”

The day after Christopher lost a tooth, I asked, “How much did you get for it?”

“A dollar.”

“That’s a lot.”

“It had a filling. They’re more valuable.”

Melanie’s Tooth Fairy is high tech.

“Melanie, did the Tooth Fairy come last night?” I inquired the morning after she lost a tooth.

“No. But she e-mailed my mom and said she’d be by tonight.”

I smiled. “Why didn’t she come last night?”

“She had to go to the bank.”

Recently Robbie was in at recess to finish his homework but preferred working on his loose tooth instead.

“Mr. Done,” Robbie said, pulling his finger out of his mouth, “I’m sure I’ll lose this tooth tonight and the Tooth Fairy will
give me a dollar. Maybe even five dollars.”

I didn’t look up. “Get to work.”

“I’ll give you five dollars if you let me go out to recess.”

“No deal.”

This week, Stacy came up to me and asked if I believe in the Tooth Fairy.

“Yep,” I answered.

“I don’t,” she said, emphatically. “And I’m going to do a test to find out.”

“What sort of a test?”

“Well, my tooth came out yesterday. See.” She opened her jaw wide, pulled back her lip, and pointed the hole out with her
tongue. I examined it. “I didn’t tell my parents. And I’m going to put it under my pillow tonight and see if there is any
money under it. If there isn’t, I’ll know that the Tooth Fairy isn’t real.”

I nodded my head. “Sounds like you’ve got a plan.”

The minute school was over, I called Stacy’s mom and told her all about Stacy’s scheme. That night the Tooth Fairy passed
the test.

R
emember writing a report about a foreign country in grade school? After choosing the country, you copied everything out of
the encyclopedia onto your mom’s blank recipe cards, then wrote the final copy in your nicest handwriting. The paper was divided
into sections: geography, economy, climate, culture, food, history, and population. Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that
all schools are just like those reports. Following is the “country report” for any school:

Geography:
A set of buildings with rubber balls kicked proudly on their roofs at recess.

Economy:
In one year produces 475 book reports, 4,500 spelling tests, 220 science fair projects, and 75,000,000 multiplication flash
cards.

Climate:
If the principal is away — breezy.

Culture:
Major cultural events throughout the year include Talent Show, Pajama Day, Bicycle Rodeo, Hoe Down, Watermelon Eating Contest,
School Carnival, and end-of-the-year baseball game where the whole school gets to watch twenty teachers get whipped by the
entire fifth-grade class.

Food:
For teachers: coffee, microwavable lunches, leftover candy corn, conversation hearts, and birthday cake. For students: anything
that turns their tongues a different color and makes slurping noises through the straw when they reach the bottom of the box.

History:
In 1950, if it rained outside children played Heads Up 7-up. Today, if it rains outside children play Heads Up 7-up.

Population:
Several hundred kids, twice as many parents, and a menagerie of bunnies, guinea pigs, hamsters, snakes, and tarantulas. Staff
consists of the following: The Mom Teacher (owns a rocking chair; reminds other teachers to put the lid down on the copier),
The Veteran Teacher (has forty-five million book order points; doesn’t think twice about walking into the boys’ bathroom),
and The New Teacher (works every weekend, sick all year). Population may include Man Teacher.