Close Encounters of the Third-Grade Kind (15 page)

“That dang clock,” I said. “It’s slow again. I better call maintenance.” I turned to the kids. “You’re excused.”

Everyone sprang out of their chairs and ran out of the room.

Whew.

T
eachers are word warriors. All day long we explain, correct, examine, define, recite, check, decipher, sound out, spell, clap,
sing, clarify, write, and act out words. We teach spelling words and history words and science words and geography words.
We teach describing words and compound words. We teach synonyms and antonyms and homonyms, too.

The other day when I was reviewing homonyms with my students, I wrote the word
hair
on the whiteboard and touched the top of my head.

“Can anyone give me another kind of
hair
?” I asked. (I was looking for
hare.
)

Stacy raised her hand.

“Yes, Stacy.”

“Chest hair.”

In my class we collect words. Each week my kids bring in their Wonderful Word of the Week. It can be any word — one they overheard
their parents say, one they discovered in a book, one they’d like to learn, or one they just like the sound of. They don’t
have to know what the words mean. They don’t even have to know how to pronounce them.

“Okay, class,” I said one morning, “get out your Wonderful Words.” The children pulled out their papers. “Who’d like to go
first?” Several raised their hands. I called on Rebecca.

“Exquisite,”
she shared.

“Ah yes,” I said, nodding, “
exquisite
is a beautiful word. It means wonderful, fabulous. The princess wore an
exquisite
piece of jewelry. I love that word, too.” I wrote it in big letters on the board. “Who’s next?” More raised hands. I called
on Robbie.

He looked down at his paper.
“Ram-bunc-tious,”
he read, slowly. “Is that right?”

“Yes. That’s correct.
Rambunctious.
Another excellent word. Where did you hear that?”

“My mom said it to me.”

I let out a laugh.

“What does it mean?” Chloe asked.

“It means rowdy.” I gave an example. “The kids were running around the room making a lot of noise. They were
rambunctious.
”

“Like us!” Christopher boasted.

“You got that right,” I replied as I wrote
rambunctious
on the board. I turned and looked back at Robbie. “Robbie, that’s a five-dollar word.”

“What’s
that
?” he said, sitting up straight.

I inhaled as if I were smelling something wonderfully delicious. “Well… five-dollar words are nice,
juicy
words. There are also ten-dollar words and twenty-dollar words. There are even a few hundred-dollar words.”

“Whoa!” several called out.

I put the cap back on the marker. “Okay, who’s next?”

Trevor shot up his hand. I called on him.

He pressed his lips together in a devious little grin.
“Rocks.”

Christopher snickered.

“Trevor, come on now,” I said, one eyebrow raised. “Be serious.”

“I
am
serious. Not like rocks in the ground. Rocks in a drink. Like a Martini on the rocks.”

There’s always one.

“Is that a five-dollar word?” Trevor asked.

“No!”

One day I gathered my kids on the carpet in the corner of the room and wrote
said
on the board. I drew a big circle around the word then crossed it out with a red marker like one of those No Smoking signs.
The children waited to see what would happen next.

“Boys and girls, we are not allowed to use the word
said
today, so I’ve crossed it out.”

“Said is dead!” Dylan shouted out, delighted with himself.

I smiled at him. “For this morning, yes.” Then I faced the class. “Today we are going to learn about synonyms for
said.
”

I took the cap off my dry erase pen and wrote
Mr. Done said, “Hi, Kevin.”
on the small whiteboard. Everyone turned and looked at Kevin. He beamed. I pointed to the word
said
in my sentence. “Now, I could write
Mr. Done screamed, ‘Hi, Kevin.’
”

They giggled.

“Or I could write
Mr. Done whispered, ‘Hi, Kevin.’
”

They chuckled.

“I could even write
Mr. Done sang, ‘Hi, Kevin.’
” I cleared my throat and sang, “Hi, Kevin,” in my best Pavarotti.

Giddiness traveled around the carpet.

“You see,” I continued, “the words
screamed, whispered,
and
sang
are all what we call synonyms. You’ve heard of synonyms before, right?”

“Yeah,” they answered together.

“Can anybody give me another synonym for
said
?”

John sat up on his knees.
“Shouted!”

“Exclaimed!”
Angela added.

Laura jumped in.
“Yelled!”

“Very good,” I praised. “You got it. Now, today we are going to see how many synonyms you can come up with for the word
said.
And you may work with a buddy.” Immediately the kids turned to their friends and linked arms like the barrel of plastic monkeys.
“Not yet. Not yet. Trevor, let go of Christopher.” They unhooked themselves.

Then I flopped back in my chair and gave a big, loud sigh. “Of course, I don’t think you could possibly beat the
world record.
”

Joshua jumped up. “There’s a world record?”

“Of course,” I responded with a straight face.

“What is it?” Sarah demanded.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” I sighed again. “You’ll never beat it.”

Jennifer seized my knee. “WHAT’S THE WORLD RECORD?”

I put on a surprised expression. “You really want to know?”

“YEAH!” everyone chanted. Jennifer shook my leg.

“Well… ,” I continued, thumping my temple with my finger for dramatic effect, “if I’m not mistaken… I believe that the world
record for the most synonyms ever brainstormed for
said
is fifty.”

Trevor sprang to his feet. “I’m going to beat it!”

Dylan shot up next. “So am I!”

Christopher jumped up with them. “Can we start now?”

I pretended that I hadn’t planned on it. “Now?”

“YEAH!” the class chirruped.

I glanced at the clock then shrugged. “Okay. Off you go.”

Immediately everyone grabbed their buddies, collected their paper and pencils, spread out around the room, and started making
their lists. The noise in the room began to bubble. I walked around to lend a hand. Synonyms were popping up everywhere.

“Laughed!”

“Hollered!”

“Stuttered!”

“Cheered!”

“Yelled!”

“Think of animals,” I called out as I circled the room. “What if animals could talk?”

“Roared!”

“Squeaked!”

“Growled!”

“Croaked!”

“Hissed!”

“Barked!”

Kevin leapt up from behind the piano. “Is
tweeted
a word? Like Tweety Bird tweeted?”

I thought about it for a second. “I’ll accept it.”

Kevin popped back down. Gina ran up next.

“Is this one?” she asked, pointing to her paper. It said
soft.

“Not quite, honey. That’s the
way
you can talk. You wouldn’t say, ‘Gigi soft, Hello.’ Understand?”

“Ohhhhh,” she said. “I get it.” She dashed off.

Christopher skidded up to me.

“How many words do you have?” I asked.

“Seventeen. Is this one?” He cupped his hand over my ear.
“Sneezed.”

“Hmm,” I said, pursing my lips. “Can you
sneeze
a word?”

Right away he let out a huge “Ah-choo!” like he was auditioning for a Claritin commercial. “See!
Ah-choo
’s a word!”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Well, there you go. Sure,
sneezed
works.”

He sped off.

I walked over to the door and flicked off the lights. Everyone stopped writing. “Think of monsters and ghosts,” I prompted.
“How do ghosts talk?”

“Moaned,”
Emily whispered to her partner.

“Howled!”
Danny exclaimed. “Like a werewolf.”

Melanie raced up to me next. She was shaking her paper. “Mr. Done, what sound does a witch make when she laughs?”

“Cackled.”

“Thanks.” She started to leave.

“Hey, Melanie.” She turned around. I was smiling. “
Cackled
is a five-dollar word.”

She smiled broadly then darted off. I sat down on the arm of the couch. Christopher ran up to me again.

“I got one! I got one! Does this count?” He waved for me to bend near then whispered loudly,
“Gargled.”

I gave him a teacher face: head cocked, lips pursed, chin down, eyebrows up.

“My dad can gargle and talk at the same time,” he argued.

I had to laugh. “Okay.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he ordered. And he shot off.

Around the room children buzzed, pencils scribbled, and arms held clipboards close to the chest like poker cards so no one
would steal their synonyms.

“Think of kings and queens,” I directed. “What does a king do?”

“Chop people’s heads off,” Trevor announced, happily.

I shot him a look.

“Ordered!”
David spewed.

“Commanded!”
Brian shouted.

“Proclaimed!”
Laura squealed.

I eyed the clock. “It’s almost time for recess.” Everyone looked above the pull-down screen. The big hand was on the 11. Five
minutes left. Suddenly the room became more animated. Christopher ran over a third time and tapped me on the shoulder. He
was practically hyperventilating.

“I got another one! I got another one!” Then he stood on his tiptoes. I cupped my ear.
“Burped.”

“No way,” I said, pulling away.

“Why
not
?”

“Because, you cannot
burp
and
talk
at the same time.”

“Yes you can. Yes you can,” he asserted, tapping my arm. “Listen.” Then Christopher cleared his throat, took a giant gulp
of air, and started burping the alphabet.
“A… B… C…”

Immediately the room fell silent.

“D… E… F…”

All eyes were glued to the burping boy. The class was entranced. Christopher looked triumphant. I was speechless.

“Does it count?” Dylan yelled.

“G… H…”

“Mr. Done,” Dylan repeated,
“does it count?”

“I… J… ”

I threw up my hands. “You win.”

T
his morning I walked out of the staff room with my coffee mug in hand to meet my students. It had just started to rain. When
I got to my door, the kids were pretending to pass something down the line.

“What are you doing?” I asked, patting my pocket for my keys.

“Playing Pass-It-On,” Angela replied.

“What are you passing?”

“The imaginary sausage,” Brian answered, happily.

I took a gulp of coffee.
This is going to be a long day.

As I started unlocking the door, Angela tossed the sausage to Brian. Brian tossed the sausage to Jay.

“Mr. Done,” Joshua said, “catch!”

“Sorry,” I replied, swinging the door open. “My hands are full. No more sausage. Time to come in now. Wipe your feet.”

It started to rain a little harder. The children hurried inside. After the last one was in, I shut the door. I pictured Noah
when he closed the door on the Ark, trapped inside with a bunch of wild animals.

When I walked into the classroom, all of the kids were waving their hands and shouting, “Me! Me! Me!” Brian was standing on
his chair looking for someone to catch his pass.

I teacher-pointed him. “I told you to put that sausage away!”

“I
did,
” he stated. “This is the imaginary pickle.”

Brian tossed the pickle to James. I took another gulp of coffee.

*  *  *

Kids love pretend. When we’re studying Antarctica, they all want to jump off the desks and act like they’re penguins diving
off glaciers. When we’re learning about the rain forest, all the boys want to play boa constrictor and squeeze the life out
of one another. When we’re learning the difference between
predator
and
prey,
everyone in the class wants to be the tiger. They beg
me
to be the hurt little antelope.

Children never need to be taught how to pretend. They’re natural performers. In all my years of teaching I have never had
to instruct a child in how to faint, yawn, die, snore, trip, beg, fly, move in slow motion, or sing like an opera star. Send
them up on the jungle gym and they’re on the
Santa Maria
searching for land. Push a few desks together, and they’re climbing the Sierras in a covered wagon. Spray them with a little
water and those wagons are crossing the Platte River. One smart aleck will always fall out, yell he can’t swim, and drown.

Kids love costumes, too. Sheets are capes. Rolls of masking tape are halos. Give a boy an eye patch and he’ll say, “Ahoy there,
matey!” Put a paper crown on a girl and she’ll order, “Off with his head.” Hand a kid a bandanna and he’ll turn into a bandit.
Let him have two black staplers and he’ll twirl them like revolvers.

No child ever needs help handling a prop. Chairs are thrones, desks are caves, paper towel rolls are spyglasses, trash cans
are treasure chests, pull-down screens are magic mirrors, jump ropes are lassos, tennis balls are poisoned apples, and my
coffee mug is a bottle of rum.

Nothing makes a better prop than a yardstick. Yardsticks can double as swords, bows, arrows, canes, spears, javelins, axes,
brooms, machetes, branches, flagpoles, rifles, hockey sticks, bayonets, lightsabers, and magic wands.

Third graders are also sound effects experts. In fact, I have yet to meet a child who wasn’t able to re-create the following
sounds on command: frog, motorcycle, bird, ghost, witch, phone, cat, doorbell, chicken, thunderstorm, siren, breeze, dog,
snore, creaky stairs, and the jingle from
Jeopardy!