Learn Me Gooder (19 page)

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

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

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.”

My students certainly won’t be winning any prizes in originality any time soon.

Hillary was really hamming it up, walking around like a zombie with her hands out in front of her. I half expected her to start feeling my face, saying, “Mr. Woodson, is that you?”

Not surprisingly, Hillary had no note from the nurse giving me the aforementioned instructions. Nurse McCaffrey ALWAYS sends the kids back with detailed notes to teachers. So I found her claim lacking a bit in an area I like to call “FACT.”

A few moments later, Mrs. Bird walked into my room, so I asked her about Hillary’s condition. She confirmed my suspicion that the nurse had indeed sent back a note that said that Hillary was perfectly fine. I didn’t see it, but I believe the note actually included the observation, “No blindness detected whatsoever.”

Here’s hoping we can go one more week without any claims of sensory loss. Then Spring Break will be here, and the kids can be as blind, deaf, mute, and numb as they want to be while they’re at home. I suspect they’ll still smell, though.
Later,
Sy Tenpaired

You are spot on, once again. The kids may appear to go blind and deaf all the time, but they never seem to go mute. I do think it would be funny if you pretended to go blind the next time you don’t have an answer for Reggie at a status meeting. If he calls BS, counter with, “But some of the heating elements were upside down!”

Ironically enough, the annual vision tests are being performed at the school this week. I don’t know how Shelly and Hillary could possibly have known about it last week, but the timing could not have been more interesting.

My students’ eyes were tested today. Amidst heavy laughter, the kids each had to put on a bulky, nerdy pair of glasses and try to read the eye chart. After a while, Nurse McCaffrey asked me to either stop giggling or to leave the room.

At the end of the day, I witnessed the worst reaction ever to a suggestion for eyeglasses. Eight notes went home to parents suggesting that their child needs glasses (including one to Lex, who already wears them!). Tiny Anna got such a letter and burst into tears. Tiny Anna is a smart sweet angel of a child, and her reaction really surprised me. She kept sobbing, “I don’t WANT glasses! My mom doesn’t WANT me to have glasses!”

When I asked her why, she said, “Because they can get broken!”

Inwardly, I wondered if she had ever been allowed to own anything outside of Silly Putty, but outwardly, I tried to console her by telling her that glasses just have to be taken care of, and that if they get broken by accident, they can always be replaced. But she acted as if someone had told her she was going to have to watch a 48-hour long marathon of Freddy Got Fingered and then perform her own interpretive dance version afterwards.

On the other end of the spectrum from Tiny Anna, I got a new kid in my class yesterday. His name is Marshawn, and his reputation precedes him. Big time. He didn’t show up in my room until 10, and I later found out that this was because those first two hours were spent down in the principal’s office where he was read the riot act upon first entering the building. Apparently, his old school couldn’t get him out the door fast enough, but they were thoughtful enough to forward several complaints about him to our principal before he arrived. From what I’ve heard, his ultimate transgression at his old school was breaking a toilet.

Over the course of my life, I’ve heard of or seen several different ways to break a toilet, including:
Dropping a shot put from a height of six feet into the porcelain bowl.
Standing on the rim and jumping up and down (lid up for boys, down for girls).
Stuffing the pipe so full of something (toilet paper, jump ropes, school uniforms) that the toilet just explodes.

Marshawn said something about using a screwdriver. My initial thought was NOT that he used it to unscrew all of the hardware, but rather that he did a “Psycho” number on the bowl and pipes. Slash and chip, baby.