Learn Me Gooder (24 page)

“Yes, student who so desperately wants me to think that you are actually checking your work, I DO see you deliberately counting on your fingers! Way to go!!”

Aside from that, Mrs. Jones’ class was pretty well behaved and did their business. My class wasn’t quite so accommodating.

Mrs. Jones caught me after school today to tell me that Suzie had fallen asleep twice before lunch, that Eddie had finished his test and then loudly announced to the class, “I’M FINISHED!” and that Shelly had basically just played with her hair and nails all day long.

On a positive note, Mrs. Jones mentioned that several times during the math test, she heard kids muttering, “Use the force.” I told her I had taught them a Jedi mind trick. I wanted to follow up with, “I have the death sentence in twelve systems!” but I didn’t want to confuse her any further.

Over in Mrs. Bird’s class, there was one case of idiocy. During the reading test yesterday, Gwenn actually tore out a piece of her test booklet so she could write a note to the girl in front of her! Mr. Utoobay, who was monitoring that class, handed me the torn out piece and said, “Maybe she thought she’d get a head start on the 4th grade writing TAKS.” Gwenn’s note consisted of one word – “Hola!”

I’m sorry, but if you’re going to go to the ridiculous extreme of MUTILATING the document that determines whether or not you go to the next grade, you had damn well better write something more than, “Hola!” I’d better see Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians or the complete lyrics to “American Pie.”

Joaqim and Marcus turned their tests in before nine-thirty. For those of you keeping track at home, you can just write those two off right now.

I will be having several lengthy discussions with students tomorrow. But the good news is that standardized testing is over for another year. Now we have to play the waiting game for the results. I’d much rather be playing Stratego or Hungry Hungry Hippo.
Later,
Walker, TAKSes Ranger

Thank you for that lengthy and eye-opening lesson on the powers – nay, SUPER powers even – of the cursive letter P. I will never again question the rationale behind the requirement to cover up every little letter before test day.

As to your technical question about which solder to use for your latest heat pump model – Just do your best.

Today is Friday, which is always nice, but it’s also the Friday after the TAKS, which makes it at least doubly sweet. We had a little pizza party for the kids (with a few exceptions), and I mostly played math games with them for the rest of the day.

It was a picture-perfect day. Except for one little thing that happened at recess.

Have you ever had a telephone conference with a customer that upset you to the point of tears? It’s not pleasant, let me tell you.

I had just such a conference with Lex’s mother today, and I now have a much deeper insight into why he acts the way he does.

Out on the playground, I saw Lex throw a punch at another child. He missed him, thankfully, but the intent was there all the same. This is not the first time that he has scuffled during playtime. In fact, according to Tattle Tale General DaQuayvius, Lex fights at least a dozen people every day.

I had a few words with the lad, and even though he kept trying to tell me that he hadn’t done anything, I got my point across – “No more fighting, or I will suspend your ass for a week.”

Not five minutes later, I saw Felipe and Victor run into each other, with Felipe hitting the ground hard enough to bring tears. Lex immediately leaped at Felipe, leaned over him and shouted, “You got knocked the f--- out!!!”

Thus the phone call to Lex’s mom. I made the call once we had all gotten back inside and settled. This began the most frustrating call I’ve ever been on, even more so than that time two years ago when I tried to get the cable company to explain to me why ESPN2 had suddenly been replaced with Lifetime for Women.

I began by telling her about the miscalculated punch. She seemed fixated on the fact that he had not actually HIT anyone – the swing and miss didn’t matter to her at all. You know, in a basketball game, if you throw a punch, you get ejected whether you make contact with someone else or not.

I tried to tell her that just because her son was not coordinated enough to actually strike his intended target doesn’t absolve him of any wrongdoing, but she didn’t want to hear it.

Next I told her about my conversation with Lex, where I warned him about fighting and being suspended and his subsequent profane statement. Her reply was, “Well, did you tell him not to curse?”

Uh, no. I also didn’t tell him not to eat yellow snow, lick batteries, or fall asleep in a swimming pool. Us school people DO expect parents to teach their kids SOME common sense type stuff.

A moment later, she switched gears and stated, “Mr. Woodson, kids curse at school all day long.”

“Not in my class, they don’t,” I answered firmly.

“Was he IN your class, or was he on the playground?”

At that point, I realized that it really wasn’t going to matter what I said or what Lex had done. I was speaking to a crazy person. And quite possibly one of Marcus’s relatives, given the semantic quibbling going on.

I moved on to the part about suspending him, telling her that he would have to stay home for three days.

“Why does he have to stay at home?” she asked. “Why can’t he be put in a first grade classroom or something?”

Clearly, the woman is familiar with behavioral consequences at the school.

I told her that Mrs. Bird and I had decided that the severity of his recent actions warranted an at-home suspension.

She came back with, “Well, I don’t think it’s going to teach him a lesson, if that’s what you’re hoping for, if he gets to stay home and watch cartoons and eat ice cream all day.”

If I had been face-to-face with this woman, I would definitely have felt the need to begin backing away slowly, avoiding eye contact, and not making any sudden, jerky movements.

I was out in the hallway during this conversation, and when I ended the phone call – pretty inconclusively – I found myself visibly shaking with frustration. I had to take a few moments to compose myself before going back into the classroom. Thankfully, Mrs. Bird was watching the kids, getting ready to start the movie for the TAKS reward party.

I took Lex down to Ms. Zapata’s office and explained the phone call I had just had. Ms. Zapata was not impressed with Lex OR his mother. She said that Lex would be suspended AT HOME next week.

Poor Lex. Three days of watching cartons and eating ice cream. And possibly working on actually connecting with his punches.

Crap, I probably SHOULD have put him in a first grade classroom. Next time, and I’m sure there will be a next time, I’ll suspend him in-school. Let it never be said that I don’t learn from my mistakes.

And when Lex comes back on Thursday, I’ll be sure to tell him not to curse, not to tattle, not to pretend to be blind, not to stick toothpicks in his butt, and so on, and so on. I’d better start making a list now.
Later,
Mel O’Drama

No, Lex’s mom will most likely NOT be adding me to her email list and forwarding funny videos. That’s a very astute observation. I’m guessing she would never go out of her way to help me change a flat tire, either.

Thanks for letting me vent in that last email. Today’s tone will be noticeably more breezier, I promise.

Right off the bat, one thing that’s breezier is my now tie-free attire, as the summer dress code is back in effect. We got an email last week that covered “Acceptable and Unacceptable Dress,” and I found a few of the bullet points quite humorous.

For one thing, the memo specifically banned big overalls from being worn at schools. This makes me wonder two things: Who actually necessitated that clause by showing up to school in bib overalls, and did they also have a hayseed sticking between their two front teeth?

Also, Spandex has been outlawed. I’m OK with this, because I already wear Spandex at night to fight crime (and to rock out with super-crazy dance moves), so I don’t need to wear it at school, too.

This morning, as I walked Spandex-free around the classroom observing the kids doing their morning work, I noticed an overpoweringly sweet smell coming from one table. It seemed to be coming from Jessie’s area, so I stopped to talk with him. Here’s how the conversation went:
Me: “Is somebody over here wearing perfume or cologne?”
Jessie: “No.”
Me: “Really?”
Jessie: “Yes.”
Me: “OK. How many times did you push the spray button?”
Jessie: “One.”
Me: “Smells like more than one.”
Jessie: “Five.”

I don’t think most people realize that teachers often have to be master detectives and interrogators to get to the bottom of things. Not to mention expert hand-writing analysts to figure out who didn’t put their name on a test or who forged their parent’s signature on their report card.

With TAKS behind us, and only about a month left in the school year, we can finally get around to some of the fun stuff on the curriculum. Today we started to read about the solar system from our science textbooks. These are the same textbooks we’ve been using since I started teaching, so they are a bit outdated in terms of the current planetary lineup.

When we came across the sentence that said, “There are nine planets in the solar system, including Earth,” I had to stop for a moment and explain why this was no longer the case.

All of the kids seemed dumbfounded that Pluto was no longer considered a planet. Mickey even blurted out, “Pluto got blowed up?”

No, it was more like being voted off the island. Maybe I should tell the kids that there was one big episode of Solar System Idol, and Pluto’s performance just wasn’t up to snuff. Some experts questioned its choice of “Cold as Ice” by Foreigner, and the gold sequined unitard really had people wondering.

Here’s what the judges had to say:
Randy: “You rock, dawg! Really! You’re a rock, and you’re named after a Disney dawg!”
Simon: “That was really pathetic. You call yourself a planet – but where’s the warmth? I’ve seen more personality and spirit from an errant comet. Next you’ll be claiming planethood for that so-called ‘moon’ of yours.”
Paula: “Our mystic fathers joined together to drink from the river of the galaxy. I feel like the ultimate bingo winner in a high-stakes universe with multiple realities. Meet me in my dressing room.”

Ultimately a big group of scientists banded together to kick Pluto to the curb. I think I read somewhere that Mel Gibson’s father has already begun to promote the word that there have always only been eight planets.

I told the kids that one of the reasons for Pluto’s exile was that it did not meet size requirements. It was just too small to be a planet.

Clarisa asked me, “So Pluto is so small it would fit in this room?”

Um, noooo, not quite THAT small.

“But it would fit inside the school, right?”

To them, small means a cat, and big means an elephant. Anything beyond that, and they have a very hard time comprehending. Telling them Pluto is small is kind of like telling them that a Pinot Noir from 1857 is overrated – they’re just not going to grasp it.

Interestingly enough, Uranus is still large enough to be considered a planet.
Later,
Mel Keyway

Nope, I don’t think Uranus humor will ever not be funny. I’ve entertained myself greatly over the past couple of days by slipping Uranus jokes into conversation during science class. At last count, I was up to 19.

In fact, Mrs. Davidson, the Behavioral Unit teacher who’s been sitting in class with Felicia, had to excuse herself from the room yesterday because she started giggling loudly. This left us with a potentially dangerous situation, because I don’t think Felicia’s pepper water would stand a chance against the denizens of Uranus.

20!

Yesterday, we went to an assembly in the auditorium so the kids could learn about this year’s fundraising activity. Each child was given a case of “World’s Greatest Chocolate” bars to sell to their friends and family (and weak-willed teachers), and sales will benefit the PTA at the school.

The guy who gave the presentation kept the kids’ attention by doing a lot of magic tricks and promising great prizes to anyone who sold a lot of chocolate. Mention prizes to these kids and they go bananas. They have no intention whatsoever of actually doing whatever it takes to WIN the prizes, but just HEARING about the prizes is like winning the lottery for them.

They’ve been doing the candy bar sales here at my school for several years now. Before that, it was some kind of coupon book they had to sell.

This makes me think back to when I was in the third grade, and my school’s fundraiser was having us sell fertilizer door-to-door. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but looking back on it, that seems a really odd choice of merchandise to have an eight-year-old child sell. But sell it, I did. I sold more than anyone else in my class. I don’t know if this was because people in my neighborhood really needed fertilizer, or if it was just a welcome relief from all of the other kids selling candy.

“If that’s just another snot-nosed kid selling M&M’s... Wait – what’s this? Fertilizer?!? THANK YOU, GOD!!”

I remember there was one guy in the neighborhood who really boosted my sales. The whole time I was meticulously working my way through my carefully prepared sales pitch, he was making impatient gestures as if to say, “Get on with it,” and when I finally did finish, he immediately stated, “Yeah, okay, gimme twenty bags.”

I can understand buying a two dollar candy bar because you want the kid doing the hard sell to feel successful. Nobody pity-buys a fifty-pound bag of fertilizer.