Learn Me Gooder (27 page)

With only nine days of school left, I have a feeling time will pass pretty quickly. This will definitely be the case if I can find that midget and convince him to beat up the rest of my class!
Talk to you later,
Khan Kust

Charles kept referring to a midget, but it was really a little kid. So it wouldn’t be fair to send Philby out to strike terror into the hearts of my students.

Besides, some of them could probably beat Philby up.

Today we had Career Day at the school. Career Day is held annually in the hopes that the kids will see some possibilities for what they can do with their lives. Several representatives of different occupations came to speak throughout the day.

The only mention of a career (other than teaching) that I can remember from this year came last month on one of the TAKS days. I had been sitting by the door of my classroom after school when Ms. Harries, the TAG teacher, walked by with one of the 5th grade ne’er-do-wells. She was haranguing him about something, which came as no surprise to me at all, because when he was in my class two years ago, I was constantly on his case.

Ms. Harries stopped when she saw me and told me to ask this kid what time he had finished his TAKS test. I obliged and asked what time he had finished.

He sullenly replied, “Sometime between 11 and 1.”

I looked at him for a long second and then said, “Wow, Troy, you’re going to make a fantastic cable repairman someday!”

The presentations today were going on all over the school. Some guests came to specific classrooms, some spoke in the library, and some were outside.

We put both groups of children in Mrs. Bird’s room for the first guest, Nurse McCaffrey’s husband, who is a lawyer. He talked to the kids about what he does all day – court appearances, studying contracts, etc. The kids were pretty well behaved and asked questions like, “How long did you have to go to school?” “How much money do you make?” and, “Do you like your job?”

Thankfully, no one asked, “Do you like cheese?”

Later in the day, we went out to the street to see some firemen who had brought a ladder truck. The kids were not so attentive to the firemen. While the gentlemen were explaining the dials and gauges on the truck, Eddie suddenly yelled, “LOOK!!” and pointed at a hawk flying overhead.

I wanted to ask the firemen if they could demonstrate the full power of the fire hose by spraying Eddie down.

Mrs. O’Reilly’s daughter, Miley, spoke to the entire third grade in the auditorium. She doesn’t have a career yet, because she’s a college student, but she gave the kids a little taste of what higher education would be like. Every single third grader at my school is now fired up about going to college. Not because Miley told them that they would get to choose their own classes and define their own path. Not because Miley told them that they would be living on their own in a dorm or an apartment. No, what sent these kids into a frenzy was when Miley started talking about campus amenities.

When she said there was a McDonald’s on the campus, the kids started cheering wildly. When she mentioned a Pizza Hut that delivered, they went even crazier. The more restaurants she listed, the more insane the kids got. When she said her college had its own bowling alley, I think I saw a kid’s head explode.

At the end of the day, all of the third graders went to the library to listen to the manager of a nearby grocery store. He started by briefly explaining his duties, then he fielded questions from the kids. He should have only taken a few questions, because after about three or four, they started getting repetitive.
“Do you have hot dogs at your store?”
“Do you have tuna fish at your store?”
“Do you have lobsters at your store?”

Suzie then woke up from her deep slumber to ask the strangest question of the day. In her slow Southern drawl, making even the smallest words come out with two syllables, she queried, “Is cherries good for you?”

The grocer stared at her for a moment and then moved his gaze up to the ceiling. I think he was looking for hidden cameras to see if he was being Punk’d. Finally, he answered nervously, “Uh, I think all fruits could be said to be good for you.”

Suzie nodded happily and then went back to sleep.

When we got back to my classroom, I asked the kids what they wanted to be when they grew up. Several still insisted that they would be basketball players, including Big Jack and Charles, who have a combined vertical leap of a quarter inch.

Strangely enough, no student on Career Day has ever asked me about being a teacher. I would love to be able to tell them that it takes a compassionate heart, an infinite store of patience, and a good friend with whom to exchange sarcastic, ranting emails.

Plus, I live near a Pizza Hut that delivers.
Later,
Oddjob

I’m up pretty late writing this, but tomorrow is Friday, and then we have a 3-day weekend, courtesy of Memorial Day!

Every year, you tell me that you would like to come talk to my kids about your job. And every year, I tell you that no one wants to hear about someone sending emails, drinking coffee, and sitting in meetings all day long.

I’m kidding with you. I’ve really been protecting you all along, keeping you away from side-tracking questions like, “When is your bedtime?” or, “Do you have your own bicycle?”

Next year, though, if you’re still interested, I’ll let you do it. Just don’t blame me if your hair falls out the next day.

This evening was my school’s annual International Festival. There are over 60 different countries represented by students and teachers at my school. It’s like the UN, except there is much less sharing of the crayons. Everyone went all out to dress festively, prepare native foods, and decorate the halls with the colors and information of many of these countries.

We’ve spent the entire week preparing and decorating for the festival. This year, the third grade chose China and Ireland as our designated nations. As a result, our hallway is now festooned with construction paper lanterns, pictures of dragons, a giant Blarney Stone sitting next to the Great Wall of China, and several very Asian-looking leprechauns.

Part of the festivities included a food sampling in the cafeteria. We had a limited budget, so we went with Lucky Charms and fortune cookies. They were a huge success.

Going with the fortune cookie motif, I decided to have the kids write some fortunes that we could put up in the hallway and near our table in the cafeteria. As you might expect, I got some interesting submissions.

Here are some of the kids’ “fortunes.”
“When you are happy your mom is happy.”
“One day you will get married and then have a divorce.”
“Everyone goes through a lot of phrases.”
“If you study and study you will become gooder in school.”
“A man with a house does not need another house to give to his children when they are eight years old.”
“They say emnesia isn’t a word, well here are your lucky numbers 4,8,12,9,6,2,1.”

Definitely some pearls of wisdom in there. As well as some opals of confusion, some emeralds of perplexity, and some amethysts of what the hell??

In addition to the hallway decorations and the food, there was a fashion show in the auditorium, with several students dressed in the traditional attire of the countries being represented.

I invited Jill to the festival, and she showed up right as the fashion show was starting. Afterwards, I showed off my classroom and my hallway, and we walked around the basketball court outside where all of the games were set up. The whole time, I could see a roving band of little girls, led by Katie and Ava, following us and giggling.

Then we got to the outrageous part of the evening. I spotted Temperance at a nearby game. She saw Jill and me, waved at us, and shouted, “Mr. Woodson! Is that your mother?”

I could feel my face turning bright red as I thought, “No, you little wing nut! Just like the 13-year-old that just walked by me is not my grandfather!”

I turned, extremely embarrassed, to apologize to Jill, but she was laughing. She saw my embarrassment, took my hand, and whispered in my ear, “It’s ok. MY kids probably would have asked if you were my pimp.”

Then she kissed me on the cheek, which brought gasps, shouts, and uncontrolled laughing from the group of girls following us.

Spirits buoyed by the warm kiss, I found it in my heart to forgive Temperance’s lapse in eyesight and/or good sense. After all, I suppose it’s not uncommon for the kids to have a narrow world-view of adults at the school and to see us all as one big family. It’s kind of sweet, even.

It’s certainly not uncommon, either. Last year, a former student saw me talking with Mr. Redd and asked if we were brothers. Two years ago, when Mrs. Fitzgerald’s pregnancy started showing, she told me several times that her kids kept asking her what WE were going to name OUR baby. Heck, Ava has been calling me “Daddy” all year long!

So I’ll give Temperance the benefit of the doubt. Just let this serve as a warning, though – stand next to me at your own peril. If my kids see us together, one of them might just think that you birthed me.
Good night,
Oedipus Tex

Put it in the books, the school year is over! Please collect your money now from everyone who said I wouldn’t make it. It was a rough year to be sure, but I have no doubt that with a little relaxation, my grey hair, ulcers, stress rash, and night terrors will disappear in no time.

Thank you for your fortune cookie message, “After countless mistakes, you probably won’t screw it up this time with the person you’re dating.”

Jill is great, and she makes me very happy. I think if we’re still together at the end of the lengthy, work-free, wide-open summer break, then we’ll probably be in it for the long haul.

School is out, and today was a great close to an eventful year. For the past two days, I’ve been sending the kids home with over-loaded backpacks. They’ve taken their folders, their journals, their workbooks, their portfolios, and more. I got rid of all the extra homeworks and workbooks that were left over from throughout the year. Still, the kids were clamoring for more! Some of them just like the idea of getting free stuff, so they probably won’t do anything with it, but a lot of them told me they were definitely going to play school over the summer.

A few of them, like Hillary and Gloria, started asking for things that I had no intention of sending home.
“Can I have that overhead machine?”
“Can I have Bubba?”

These kids are little Larrys! I flashed back to the time when we were having lunch at a TGIFridays one day, when Larry said to the waiter, “I like your shirt! Can I have it?”

In addition to all of the extra paperwork, I also had a couple of science project boards that had not been claimed yet. The week prior, I had let the kids get together with their science project partners to decide amongst themselves who would take home the project boards. For the most part, the kids were able to come to amicable decisions, and one person from each group took their board home.

As of today, however, I still had two boards from my afternoon class where the group could not decide on who would get it. One group was Ella and Gwenn, and the other was Cerulean and Isabel.

I told these kids that if they couldn’t decide, I would cut the boards in half, and each of them would get half of the project. They didn’t seem too excited about that, but I told them it was going to be the only fair way to decide.

I pulled out the first board and put the open scissors on either side of the top, preparing to cut. I asked one last time, “Are you sure about this?”

Cerulean cried, “NO! I want to take it home!”

Naturally, Isabel responded, “No, I want it!”

So I started to cut right down the middle. Let me tell you, cutting a science board with a pair of third grade safety scissors is freaking hard!! I could hear a few gasps of horror as I cut. When I finally presented a half to each of the partners, they didn’t seem real pleased.

When I pulled out the other board, Ella immediately shrieked, “SHE CAN HAVE IT!!!!”

Ah yes, Old Testament practicality.

We had our end-of-year awards ceremony after lunch, and lots of parents and family came. It was held in the auditorium so the whole third grade could be there together. The teachers each went up to the stage and went through their class lists, announcing one or two awards for each student. Choosing the awards earlier this week presented a bit of a challenge. We were instructed to give every kid at least two awards. For some kids, this was easy. With kids like Tomas, Katie, and Clarisa, I actually had to draw the limit at five or six awards. With other kids, I had to be really creative with the “Teacher’s Choice” award. I gave one to Joaqim that read, “Most Consistent,” and one to Marcus that said, “Most mobile seating arrangement.”

When we got back to the classroom after the awards, I found a note from one of my students from last year. It was written on a salmon-colored piece of paper, folded in half, and it was left taped to my door.

It said, “Hi! Mister Woodson is me Diana. I was in your class in 3rd grade. Now I passed to fifth grade. I’m not going to be here next year I’m going to the new school. Today is my last day of school here. So I’m not to wave to you every time I see you! I’m going to miss you and the 4th grade teachers!”

Very sweet, isn’t it? The really funny thing is that her impression of me must have changed dramatically. Last year, on her first day in my class, we could hardly get her to enter the room. She was bawling on my doorstep as her mother and I tried to convince her to come in and sit down at a desk. It finally took Miss Rooker to come and talk her down, in Spanish, before she would even set foot in my room.