We're all important.
Some of us for very special reasons.
(I think Dad would agree.)
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Thrust
If you are ever in need of a fun-filled game to play with a small group at a classroom party I have just what you're looking for. Since I was never told the actual title of this game, I'm going to go ahead and dub it Let's Thrust Our Orange-filled Pantyhose! See procedures below.
1. Fill one leg of several pairs of pantyhose with a single orange.
2. Tie the empty pantyhose leg around each player's waist, the orange-filled leg hanging between the players' legs .
3. Place a second orange on the ground in front of each player.
4. Players will race their oranges toward the finish line by giving several good strong forward pelvic thrusts in attempts to swing the orange-filled pantyhose leg into the resting orange, thus propelling the resting orange forward. (I trust, as you are reading these instructions, that you are creating a vivid mental picture.)
NOTE: In the event that a player is too short to effectively thrust their pantyhose forward, instruct the player to grab hold of the leg of the orange-filled pantyhose with both hands in order to assist in the forward movement.
5. The player who thrusts their orange to the finish line first is the winner!
Yes. This game was organized and carried out at a classroom Halloween party several years ago.
Yes. It was hysterical.
Yes. I would recommend it.
1. Fill one leg of several pairs of pantyhose with a single orange.
2. Tie the empty pantyhose leg around each player's waist, the orange-filled leg hanging between the players' legs .
3. Place a second orange on the ground in front of each player.
4. Players will race their oranges toward the finish line by giving several good strong forward pelvic thrusts in attempts to swing the orange-filled pantyhose leg into the resting orange, thus propelling the resting orange forward. (I trust, as you are reading these instructions, that you are creating a vivid mental picture.)
NOTE: In the event that a player is too short to effectively thrust their pantyhose forward, instruct the player to grab hold of the leg of the orange-filled pantyhose with both hands in order to assist in the forward movement.
5. The player who thrusts their orange to the finish line first is the winner!
Yes. This game was organized and carried out at a classroom Halloween party several years ago.
Yes. It was hysterical.
Yes. I would recommend it.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Check Out My Quad
Whenever my new class list is posted, the first thing I do is check for duplicate names. That may seem a bit odd. You might expect that I would immediately scan the list for the so-called "terror" from Mrs. Collins's kindergarten class; the one I had to pick up and carry across the foyer to the main office, my shins in no shape for a repeat performance for several days after. Or the younger brother of that other student I had; the one who opened every last marker in the tray, scribbled over every last inch of whiteboard, then left every last marker lid in some undisclosed hiding place not necessarily within the walls of my classroom. But no. Not since the year of the four Austins have I first checked for anything other than repeat names.
Yes, four Austins. In a class of only nineteen students, four of them were named Austin; Austin B., Austin L., Austin W., Austin Z. Fortunately for everyone involved, they all had different last initials, otherwise I would have had to get creative by calling out something like "Blond Austin!", undoubtedly resulting in a long conversation about whether their hair was truly blond, dirty blond, or simply light brown. And it would not have been in anyone's best interest to go by personality traits or past behaviors, "Austin Who Barks Under His Desk, can you tell us the contraction for will not?" or "Austin Who Chews On His Pencil, will you please point to Utah on this map?" Not only would that have taken too long, but it might have proved embarrassing for one or two of the Austins.
Since that year I've only ever had as many as two students with the same name in any of my classes (no real challenge there), but I still can't help checking before doing anything else. You never know how much time I might need to determine the most appropriate forms of address and, in my case, it's probably better to decide before really getting to know them.
Yes, four Austins. In a class of only nineteen students, four of them were named Austin; Austin B., Austin L., Austin W., Austin Z. Fortunately for everyone involved, they all had different last initials, otherwise I would have had to get creative by calling out something like "Blond Austin!", undoubtedly resulting in a long conversation about whether their hair was truly blond, dirty blond, or simply light brown. And it would not have been in anyone's best interest to go by personality traits or past behaviors, "Austin Who Barks Under His Desk, can you tell us the contraction for will not?" or "Austin Who Chews On His Pencil, will you please point to Utah on this map?" Not only would that have taken too long, but it might have proved embarrassing for one or two of the Austins.
Since that year I've only ever had as many as two students with the same name in any of my classes (no real challenge there), but I still can't help checking before doing anything else. You never know how much time I might need to determine the most appropriate forms of address and, in my case, it's probably better to decide before really getting to know them.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Soup's On
Some of you may have heard the story of Stone Soup. There are many versions of this classic tale. In one popular version, a few men manage to reunite a town full of standoffish, untrusting people by creating Stone Soup in the town's center. In another, a weary treveler asks a woman for food. She rudely refuses, saying she doesn't have any. Clearly a lie. When he mentions that he'll get by on some Stone Soup, she is intrigued and ultimately provides quite a range of food for the traveler to add to the soup.
After reading these two adaptations of the tale to the class, I told them it was their turn to create some soup. The instructions I gave were simple: they could be as creative as they'd like, they should use their imaginations, it should not be your standard chicken noodle or broccoli and cheese, and it didn't necessarily have to be edible.
As you study the ingredients for Andy's soup, you may be asking yourself (as I did, numerous times) just where this child's imagination took him. I assume he chose the "not edible" route.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Summer Break
I know many people believe that teachers choose their profession in large part due to the fact there is a summer break involved. We're just those lazy people who would rather not be working so we simply put up with seven months of a career we don't really enjoy all that much because it's worth it for those two months off. And I'm sure you've heard the well-thought-out argument, "Yeah, you don't make very much money but you get the summers off." Mm hm...even if we were paid the equivalent of two extra months of our salary...
Therefore, many non-educators may wonder, if it's not just for the breaks and it's obviously not for the pay, why teach? I cannot speak for anyone but myself, but here are a few of my reasons:
Because being around kids all day keeps me young.
Because knowing kids are learning stuff because of me feels good.
Because reading is my favorite pastime and I hope to create a love for reading in as many kids as humanly possible.
Because every day is different.
Because I don't have to wear business attire.
Because I have students who greet me with "Hey Gorgeous!" in the morning.
Because I love to laugh and kids make me laugh.
Because a hug from a six year-old can turn a crappy day into a not-so-crappy one.
Because I never watch the clock, unless it's to make sure we go to recess on time.
Because I get to go on field trips, dress up for Halloween, and sing "On Top of Spaghetti".
Because I don't have to say, "I'm going to work." Instead I get to say, "I'm going to school!"
Because the people I teach with are hands-down some of the best I've ever met.
Because reading children's writing is wonderful.
Because teaching math means I get to play games and use blocks.
Because I get twenty extra Christmas presents; half of which are lotion or mugs, the other half hand-drawn.
Because the kids truly believe I am a good artist.
Because I don't sit in a chair all day.
Because school lunch is sometimes yummy.
And yes, it's true... because when I work as hard as I work and get paid what I get paid, the breaks seem well-earned and are much appreciated.
But as I begin this summer break - which will most definitely be enjoyed to the fullest - I find myself looking forward to the fall just a little bit. Given all those reasons, how could I not?
Therefore, many non-educators may wonder, if it's not just for the breaks and it's obviously not for the pay, why teach? I cannot speak for anyone but myself, but here are a few of my reasons:
Because being around kids all day keeps me young.
Because knowing kids are learning stuff because of me feels good.
Because reading is my favorite pastime and I hope to create a love for reading in as many kids as humanly possible.
Because every day is different.
Because I don't have to wear business attire.
Because I have students who greet me with "Hey Gorgeous!" in the morning.
Because I love to laugh and kids make me laugh.
Because a hug from a six year-old can turn a crappy day into a not-so-crappy one.
Because I never watch the clock, unless it's to make sure we go to recess on time.
Because I get to go on field trips, dress up for Halloween, and sing "On Top of Spaghetti".
Because I don't have to say, "I'm going to work." Instead I get to say, "I'm going to school!"
Because the people I teach with are hands-down some of the best I've ever met.
Because reading children's writing is wonderful.
Because teaching math means I get to play games and use blocks.
Because I get twenty extra Christmas presents; half of which are lotion or mugs, the other half hand-drawn.
Because the kids truly believe I am a good artist.
Because I don't sit in a chair all day.
Because school lunch is sometimes yummy.
And yes, it's true... because when I work as hard as I work and get paid what I get paid, the breaks seem well-earned and are much appreciated.
But as I begin this summer break - which will most definitely be enjoyed to the fullest - I find myself looking forward to the fall just a little bit. Given all those reasons, how could I not?
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Machine
There are a few things a teacher can tell a first grader about themselves that will be met with frank disbelief:
If you don't live at school, where do you live?
You really can't afford to buy us anything better than Fun Dip for our birthdays?
You eat meals, too?!
You weren't ever in first grade, Mrs. Plant!
Somehow in their minds teachers are something stationary, not quite human, placed within the school just for the students' benefit with no other life to live. They don't see us as they see other people who have families, go out, shop, see movies, have pets, and eat dinner. We are but solitary teaching machines.
Back when I was student teaching, my mom came to meet my class. I didn't give them any warning, wanted it to be a surprise. When she walked through the door all heads turned in her direction. They were excited about this mysterious stranger (maybe she had candy or something!). I walked over, put my arm around her and said, "Class, this is my mommy!" This announcement was met with murmurs, whispers, and blank stares. Then Gavin, a small outspoken redhead, placed his hands on his hips as he looked from me to my mom, back to me, back to my mom, and back to me again before accusing, "You never told me you had a mother!"
Over the years I've concluded that it's better to give the kids a bit of background information early on in the school year. I talk about my husband, my family, my dog, my house, and the things I enjoy doing now and enjoyed when I was their age. Initially, every year brings the same mumblings of disbelief, little chuckles as if to say "There she goes again, trying to trick us into believing she's normal!" But I've found if I keep at it, they eventually believe, seeing me less as a machine and more as part human-part machine. I take what I can get.
If you don't live at school, where do you live?
You really can't afford to buy us anything better than Fun Dip for our birthdays?
You eat meals, too?!
You weren't ever in first grade, Mrs. Plant!
Somehow in their minds teachers are something stationary, not quite human, placed within the school just for the students' benefit with no other life to live. They don't see us as they see other people who have families, go out, shop, see movies, have pets, and eat dinner. We are but solitary teaching machines.
Back when I was student teaching, my mom came to meet my class. I didn't give them any warning, wanted it to be a surprise. When she walked through the door all heads turned in her direction. They were excited about this mysterious stranger (maybe she had candy or something!). I walked over, put my arm around her and said, "Class, this is my mommy!" This announcement was met with murmurs, whispers, and blank stares. Then Gavin, a small outspoken redhead, placed his hands on his hips as he looked from me to my mom, back to me, back to my mom, and back to me again before accusing, "You never told me you had a mother!"
Over the years I've concluded that it's better to give the kids a bit of background information early on in the school year. I talk about my husband, my family, my dog, my house, and the things I enjoy doing now and enjoyed when I was their age. Initially, every year brings the same mumblings of disbelief, little chuckles as if to say "There she goes again, trying to trick us into believing she's normal!" But I've found if I keep at it, they eventually believe, seeing me less as a machine and more as part human-part machine. I take what I can get.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Sequencing
Today we talked about sequencing and the importance of giving directions or summarizing stories in the correct order. To gain a better understanding of sequencing, the students were asked to boil a familiar activity down to four easy steps. As always, I have left the spelling intact for the charm-factor. Read carefully - you may just learn a thing or two.
How to plant a flower
First, you bey a flower and get drte.
Second, you get a pot.
Third, you put soil in the pot and wotr too.
Fourth, and then you let the sun do the rest.
Ahh, that magical sun!
How to spell the word dot
First, you get a pesel.
Second, you write a "d".
Third, you write a "o".
Fourth, then last you write a "t" then your don.
I know. It's difficult to take in all those instructions at once.
How to milk a cow
First, you grab a bucket.
Second, you grab a stool.
Third, you find a cow.
Fourth, you put the bucet under the cow and sqees the cow.
The only thing that's unclear here is where to squeeze.
How to take a shower
First, you get undressed.
Second, hop in the shower and get your hair wet.
Third, you put shapoo in your hair and condishiner and put soap on your body.
Fourth, wash your hair and hop out but dry your hair and get dressst and walk away.
Seems to be a lot of hopping involved in taking a shower.
How to watch a movie
First, you chose a movie.
Second, you pute in the movie.
Third, you push all the buttons.
Fourth, then you watch the movie.
I'm not sure it's advisable to push all the buttons, but it must work for her.
How to make someting disupier
First, get a bunch of dinomite.
Second, and then get a mach and light it.
Third, and then throw it at the thig you want to disapier.
Fourth, the only problum is it'l never come back.
Do you really want it to come back if you're trying to make it disappear?
Some days I learn more than my students do.
How to plant a flower
First, you bey a flower and get drte.
Second, you get a pot.
Third, you put soil in the pot and wotr too.
Fourth, and then you let the sun do the rest.
Ahh, that magical sun!
How to spell the word dot
First, you get a pesel.
Second, you write a "d".
Third, you write a "o".
Fourth, then last you write a "t" then your don.
I know. It's difficult to take in all those instructions at once.
How to milk a cow
First, you grab a bucket.
Second, you grab a stool.
Third, you find a cow.
Fourth, you put the bucet under the cow and sqees the cow.
The only thing that's unclear here is where to squeeze.
How to take a shower
First, you get undressed.
Second, hop in the shower and get your hair wet.
Third, you put shapoo in your hair and condishiner and put soap on your body.
Fourth, wash your hair and hop out but dry your hair and get dressst and walk away.
Seems to be a lot of hopping involved in taking a shower.
How to watch a movie
First, you chose a movie.
Second, you pute in the movie.
Third, you push all the buttons.
Fourth, then you watch the movie.
I'm not sure it's advisable to push all the buttons, but it must work for her.
How to make someting disupier
First, get a bunch of dinomite.
Second, and then get a mach and light it.
Third, and then throw it at the thig you want to disapier.
Fourth, the only problum is it'l never come back.
Do you really want it to come back if you're trying to make it disappear?
Some days I learn more than my students do.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
War
Generally speaking, it's an overwhelmingly simple task to determine whether a first grader is telling the truth or not. For the most part they are not good liars and it's quite comical how surprised they are when you call their bluff without much information at all. You can see it in their faces, "How could she possibly have known that I didn't go to China last night?" Then they backtrack and say something convincing like, "I know, I was just kidding - I didn't really go to China." But there are a select few who tell the lie and embrace it shamelessly.
As Michael and I were walking down the hall together, out of the blue he said, "My Grandpa is in the war."
This alone made me chuckle because there was nothing previous to this statement that would have lead one to think about war, but I responded, "You mean he was in a war?" I thought perhaps WWII since I know his grandpa is an older man.
"No." he said adamantly, "He went yesterday." Of course he did. At this point I may have accidentally rolled my eyes just a little. But before I could call him on his lie, he looked toward the ground, shook his head, and with all the seriousness a seven year-old can muster he said, "I sure hope they win."
I just couldn't bring myself to ruin his earnest moment, so I just shook my head, too, and said, "So do I, Michael. So do I."
As Michael and I were walking down the hall together, out of the blue he said, "My Grandpa is in the war."
This alone made me chuckle because there was nothing previous to this statement that would have lead one to think about war, but I responded, "You mean he was in a war?" I thought perhaps WWII since I know his grandpa is an older man.
"No." he said adamantly, "He went yesterday." Of course he did. At this point I may have accidentally rolled my eyes just a little. But before I could call him on his lie, he looked toward the ground, shook his head, and with all the seriousness a seven year-old can muster he said, "I sure hope they win."
I just couldn't bring myself to ruin his earnest moment, so I just shook my head, too, and said, "So do I, Michael. So do I."
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Put-Ups
We work hard on giving put-ups rather than put-downs at our school.
I think we're making some real progress.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Aloha
Ah, to be young and innocent again; when my parents bought my clothes, did the grocery shopping, cooking, and laundry, mowed the lawn, washed the car, fixed light bulbs, paid the bills, and took me on vacations (I was expected to dust and clean my room, however, so it wasn't all fun and games). And I never stopped to wonder how they made it all happen - just accepted it, expected it, and rarely said thanks for it. Only now do I understand that molding my world into the comfortable place it was must not have been easy.
These realizations make it easier for me to understand why Jaylynn would, in all seriousness, ask when the first graders would be going to Hawaii.
It was our fault. We confused her. The day before, as we prepared to teach the first graders Ulili e, a Hawaiian dance, we asked excitedly, "Are you all ready to travel to Hawaii?!" Not surprisingly, the answer was an enthusiastic, "YEAH!"
In our defense, following our kind offer we did explain that the traveling would be done in our imaginations, but Jaylynn must already have skipped ahead to imagining what she would pack for the trip and how she would break it to Mom and Dad that she would be gone for a few days.
"Oh, Jaylynn," I said in a regretful tone, tinged with the tiniest hint of laughter, "We were just imagining that we were traveling to Hawaii. We aren't actually going there, sweetheart." Judging by the look on her face, she clearly did not understand. We had, after all, gone to the Children's Museum not two weeks before.
It seems ironic, somehow, that we cannot appreciate the beauty of our innocence until it is behind us. I guess that's what kids are for. To remind us what we used to have and can no longer enjoy because it's gone. You gotta love 'em.
These realizations make it easier for me to understand why Jaylynn would, in all seriousness, ask when the first graders would be going to Hawaii.
It was our fault. We confused her. The day before, as we prepared to teach the first graders Ulili e, a Hawaiian dance, we asked excitedly, "Are you all ready to travel to Hawaii?!" Not surprisingly, the answer was an enthusiastic, "YEAH!"
In our defense, following our kind offer we did explain that the traveling would be done in our imaginations, but Jaylynn must already have skipped ahead to imagining what she would pack for the trip and how she would break it to Mom and Dad that she would be gone for a few days.
"Oh, Jaylynn," I said in a regretful tone, tinged with the tiniest hint of laughter, "We were just imagining that we were traveling to Hawaii. We aren't actually going there, sweetheart." Judging by the look on her face, she clearly did not understand. We had, after all, gone to the Children's Museum not two weeks before.
It seems ironic, somehow, that we cannot appreciate the beauty of our innocence until it is behind us. I guess that's what kids are for. To remind us what we used to have and can no longer enjoy because it's gone. You gotta love 'em.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Live Animals
Before I tell this story, you must first understand that a first grader's sense of humor is still in its most primary of stages. "Funny" at this age includes goofy faces, obnoxious noises, and confusing jokes like this one:
Knock knock!
Who's there?
Shiny whale.
Shiny whale who?
Shiny whale wants to eat your pants!
It is terribly difficult to affect a believable laugh after this kind of amateur humor - if one can consider these things humor. So, with this glimpse into the mind of a first grader, read on...
A field trip was scheduled for the next day. Our principal had given us an official list of bus safety guidelines and rules to discuss with our students. The list included the following:
Pupils must remain seated while the bus is in motion.
Pupils are not to extend their hands, arms, or heads through bus windows.
Loud, vulgar or abusive language or behavior is prohibited.
Pupils must not open or close windows without permission of the driver.
Pupils must keep the bus clean and refrain from damaging it.
The possibilities for humor within this list were endless. Just the fact that they chose the word "pupil" was enough for me; however, the students would not have understood, so I kept my comments to myself.
The last rule was:
No item will be carried on the bus which could create a hazard to any passenger including, but not limited to: live animals, skis, skateboards, glass objects, etc.
In an attempt at making the students laugh I said in my most dramatic voice, which you have to use so they know you're being funny, "Bummer! We can't bring our live animals on the field trip!"
Without so much as a skipped beat, Hayley responded with, "Can we bring our dead ones?"
Touché, Hayley. Touché.
Knock knock!
Who's there?
Shiny whale.
Shiny whale who?
Shiny whale wants to eat your pants!
It is terribly difficult to affect a believable laugh after this kind of amateur humor - if one can consider these things humor. So, with this glimpse into the mind of a first grader, read on...
A field trip was scheduled for the next day. Our principal had given us an official list of bus safety guidelines and rules to discuss with our students. The list included the following:
Pupils must remain seated while the bus is in motion.
Pupils are not to extend their hands, arms, or heads through bus windows.
Loud, vulgar or abusive language or behavior is prohibited.
Pupils must not open or close windows without permission of the driver.
Pupils must keep the bus clean and refrain from damaging it.
The possibilities for humor within this list were endless. Just the fact that they chose the word "pupil" was enough for me; however, the students would not have understood, so I kept my comments to myself.
The last rule was:
No item will be carried on the bus which could create a hazard to any passenger including, but not limited to: live animals, skis, skateboards, glass objects, etc.
In an attempt at making the students laugh I said in my most dramatic voice, which you have to use so they know you're being funny, "Bummer! We can't bring our live animals on the field trip!"
Without so much as a skipped beat, Hayley responded with, "Can we bring our dead ones?"
Touché, Hayley. Touché.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
When I Am Old
Every year the first graders read a story entitled When I Am Old With You. The young boy in the story is telling his Grandaddy all the things they will do when they're old together; go fishing, ride a tractor, play cards, visit the ocean. It's a heart warmer. To get the kids more involved with the story, at the end of the week we celebrate Grandparents' Day. Students invite their grandparents to come to our school, listen to them read the story, and share a cookie. During the week, the students work on a card to give their grandparent while they are together. Apparently this student was the only one who realized that "being old with" his grandpa was somewhat of an unlikely sentiment. I'm hoping the grandpa who received the card below is not only healthy in body and mind, but has a healthy sense of humor as well.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Filter
Yet another endearing trait of young students is their apparent lack of comment-filtering skills. That loud voice in the minds of many adults (clearly not all) that screams "THAT MAY BE WHAT YOU THINK BUT DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, SAY IT OUT LOUD!" will not fully develop for quite some time (if ever). Whatever comes into their heads is bound to come out of their mouths. Oftentimes this bodes well for a teacher's self-esteem; when they tell you you're beautiful, funny, nice, or smart. Other times, it is far less than a confidence booster.
A couple years ago a fellow first grade teacher was expecting her first baby and it was becoming rather obvious. Many students didn't seem to understand what was happening and had begun making comments about how fat she was getting. One afternoon when all the first graders were together for singing time, she decided it was time to explain to the students that she wasn't getting fat. She had a baby in her tummy. This seemed to make sense to the students, "That's why my mom is fat, too!"
After the explanation, the first graders returned to their classrooms to carry on with their learning. As my students worked quietly on an assignment I noticed that Lexie was eyeing me with a confused look on her face. After several moments of enduring her blatant scrutiny I whispered, "Lexie, is everything okay?" and she hesitantly asked, "Is Mrs. Hansen the only one that's pregnant?"
I knew in my heart that this conversation was not going to end well, but instead of walking away and keeping my self-confidence intact I responded, "As far as I know."
"Oh." she said in a perplexed kind of way (and here's where the filter should have kicked in), "'Cause it kind of looks like you are, too."
I am still in the early stages of recovery.
A couple years ago a fellow first grade teacher was expecting her first baby and it was becoming rather obvious. Many students didn't seem to understand what was happening and had begun making comments about how fat she was getting. One afternoon when all the first graders were together for singing time, she decided it was time to explain to the students that she wasn't getting fat. She had a baby in her tummy. This seemed to make sense to the students, "That's why my mom is fat, too!"
After the explanation, the first graders returned to their classrooms to carry on with their learning. As my students worked quietly on an assignment I noticed that Lexie was eyeing me with a confused look on her face. After several moments of enduring her blatant scrutiny I whispered, "Lexie, is everything okay?" and she hesitantly asked, "Is Mrs. Hansen the only one that's pregnant?"
I knew in my heart that this conversation was not going to end well, but instead of walking away and keeping my self-confidence intact I responded, "As far as I know."
"Oh." she said in a perplexed kind of way (and here's where the filter should have kicked in), "'Cause it kind of looks like you are, too."
I am still in the early stages of recovery.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
First Grade Book Recommendations
Note: I did not change the spelling because it's what makes first grade writing so charming; however, I did add punctuation to help make sense of some of it. See if you can spot what they all have in common.
Harry Potter
So ther is this boy that is very very very very very very unuooshawll because he is a wizerd and he gose to a magick school colld hogwarts and there is a evil wizerd named lord voldamort. He trizes to kill Harry sevrill times and there is't just one book there are seven books and that is how much I'm (I am) going to tell you.
So in case you were confused about which two words made up the contraction "I'm"; perhaps it's time to work on "isn't".
For You
So their was a giraffe that doesn't have a girlfriend then he looks everywhere then he finds one. Why I think that you should read it is because it is a friendly book.
So who doesn't love a "friendly" book?
Diary of a Wimpy Kid
So it's a kid in a elementry school and he has only one frind and evry one els is nerdy and weard and at the school there is a chees toch and the mane karekder has a littel brother and a big brother. I recommend this book because it's funny.
So if I had any idea of what a "chees toch" was, I would certainly tell you.
Ten Blak Dots
So first ther's one blak dot and then thers to blak dots and then it goes up to ten blak dots and they all make pictchers. I wood like to recommend it cus it's cool.
So this is one of the least exciting books I might think of to recommend, but hey - to each his own.
Are You My Mother
So that is a brid and he chris (tries, of course) to find his mother and he can't find his mother. Then when he goes back to his nest he finds his mother . You sud recommend this book because it is fune.
So sorry. I asked them not to give away the endings.
Wolter The Farting Dog.
So ther was this dog and he farts alot and a boy bot him at a stor and at the edd thes rober brakes in the house and dog dus a humungis fart ant it was so bit it shot him acrot the room. I recemmed this book because it is funy.
So what kind of teacher actually reads this kind of book to first graders? I ask you!
So were you able to spot what all of these recommendations have in common?
Harry Potter
So ther is this boy that is very very very very very very unuooshawll because he is a wizerd and he gose to a magick school colld hogwarts and there is a evil wizerd named lord voldamort. He trizes to kill Harry sevrill times and there is't just one book there are seven books and that is how much I'm (I am) going to tell you.
So in case you were confused about which two words made up the contraction "I'm"; perhaps it's time to work on "isn't".
For You
So their was a giraffe that doesn't have a girlfriend then he looks everywhere then he finds one. Why I think that you should read it is because it is a friendly book.
So who doesn't love a "friendly" book?
Diary of a Wimpy Kid
So it's a kid in a elementry school and he has only one frind and evry one els is nerdy and weard and at the school there is a chees toch and the mane karekder has a littel brother and a big brother. I recommend this book because it's funny.
So if I had any idea of what a "chees toch" was, I would certainly tell you.
Ten Blak Dots
So first ther's one blak dot and then thers to blak dots and then it goes up to ten blak dots and they all make pictchers. I wood like to recommend it cus it's cool.
So this is one of the least exciting books I might think of to recommend, but hey - to each his own.
Are You My Mother
So that is a brid and he chris (tries, of course) to find his mother and he can't find his mother. Then when he goes back to his nest he finds his mother . You sud recommend this book because it is fune.
So sorry. I asked them not to give away the endings.
Wolter The Farting Dog.
So ther was this dog and he farts alot and a boy bot him at a stor and at the edd thes rober brakes in the house and dog dus a humungis fart ant it was so bit it shot him acrot the room. I recemmed this book because it is funy.
So what kind of teacher actually reads this kind of book to first graders? I ask you!
So were you able to spot what all of these recommendations have in common?
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Three Strikes
There are some aspects of teaching that simply cannot be taught in a college course. Procedures, in particular, can be a challenge; when to let kids sharpen pencils, the best seating arrangement on the rug for story time, where in the classroom to line up so the least amount of stuff will be tampered with, what to do if and when students lose scissors, glue sticks, or pencils - things you don't really think about until you're in the midst of 25 little people who can't even pronounce the word procedure.
My second year of teaching I had a particularly tough time determining the best procedure for bathroom breaks. I had one student who asked to go an average of 4 times for every 10 minutes spent in class and it started giving me a headache after 20. Being the brilliant second-year teacher that I was, I told my class they were allowed to use the bathroom a maximum of three times in one day. When they decided to use these trips was entirely up to them. Once they were out of trips, they better hope Mom thought to pack an extra pair of pants in their backpacks; kind of a "three strikes, you're out" sort of deal. This is one more reason first graders are great. They believe in magic. After this new procedure was in place, they never once questioned whether I actually knew how many times they had gone to the restroom, which I did not.
We went weeks without ever mentioning bathroom breaks and, shockingly, never having a single accident. Then one morning, about an hour into the school day, I noticed that Christian had taken several trips to the bathroom already and was asking for permission again. Well, that's against procedure, so I questioned him,
"Christian, buddy. You've already used your three trips and we've only been in school for just over an hour. What's the problem?" In a million years, I never would have guessed his response.
In a loud, clear, now-hear-this, kind of voice Christian said, "I'll tell you what the problem is, Mrs. Plant! I have diarrhea!" Collective gasps and looks of horror fell upon the other students. We don't actually say the word diarrhea. Christian was unfazed as he turned to address the class. Pointing at the students, he shouted, "That's right! Diarrhea!" He marched straight to the classroom door, put his hand on the knob, and proclaimed to the world, "I have diarrhea and I'm goin' to the bathroom!" And out he walked, leaving the other students, and the teacher, dumbfounded and unsure of what to do next. As nonchalantly as possible I turned back to the class, shrugged my shoulders, and continued on with the activity. Gratefully, the students followed suit.
I was concerned Christian's classmates might take this as an invitation to make bathroom proclamations in order to get extra trips down the hall. Fortunately for me and my authority, no one else was willing to actually use the necessary verbiage in order to make it happen.
My second year of teaching I had a particularly tough time determining the best procedure for bathroom breaks. I had one student who asked to go an average of 4 times for every 10 minutes spent in class and it started giving me a headache after 20. Being the brilliant second-year teacher that I was, I told my class they were allowed to use the bathroom a maximum of three times in one day. When they decided to use these trips was entirely up to them. Once they were out of trips, they better hope Mom thought to pack an extra pair of pants in their backpacks; kind of a "three strikes, you're out" sort of deal. This is one more reason first graders are great. They believe in magic. After this new procedure was in place, they never once questioned whether I actually knew how many times they had gone to the restroom, which I did not.
We went weeks without ever mentioning bathroom breaks and, shockingly, never having a single accident. Then one morning, about an hour into the school day, I noticed that Christian had taken several trips to the bathroom already and was asking for permission again. Well, that's against procedure, so I questioned him,
"Christian, buddy. You've already used your three trips and we've only been in school for just over an hour. What's the problem?" In a million years, I never would have guessed his response.
In a loud, clear, now-hear-this, kind of voice Christian said, "I'll tell you what the problem is, Mrs. Plant! I have diarrhea!" Collective gasps and looks of horror fell upon the other students. We don't actually say the word diarrhea. Christian was unfazed as he turned to address the class. Pointing at the students, he shouted, "That's right! Diarrhea!" He marched straight to the classroom door, put his hand on the knob, and proclaimed to the world, "I have diarrhea and I'm goin' to the bathroom!" And out he walked, leaving the other students, and the teacher, dumbfounded and unsure of what to do next. As nonchalantly as possible I turned back to the class, shrugged my shoulders, and continued on with the activity. Gratefully, the students followed suit.
I was concerned Christian's classmates might take this as an invitation to make bathroom proclamations in order to get extra trips down the hall. Fortunately for me and my authority, no one else was willing to actually use the necessary verbiage in order to make it happen.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Shoe Fly
Shoes can be used for a number of activities. For instance, I personally use shoes for things like running, walking, golfing, hiking, working, gardening, etc. Likewise, there are activities I do not use shoes for, such as sleeping, yoga, swimming, bathing, weaponry, and - the most recent addition to my mental list - flying object. Let me explain.
A couple weeks ago, Stewart came hobbling in from recess wearing only one shoe. Intrigued, I asked calmly, "Dude, where's your shoe?"
He shrugged, initially offering no explanation, so I pressed,
"Stewart, can you recall the last time your shoe was on your foot and what happened next?"
"Well, um...I think it might be in the bushes." and here Stewart recounted the story of how he'd lost his shoe. I'll spare you his lengthy version which contained no less than 314 pauses and "ums". In short, he'd removed said shoe, taken it tightly by the laces, swung it around his head until it reached maximum velocity, and let 'er fly! And fly it did because not a soul on the playground could discover the location of that shoe.
Now, consequences are a tricky thing when you're a teacher. You want them to be subtle, yet powerful. Yelling doesn't do any good. You don't want to embarrass or cause scenes. You can't make threats unless you are willing to carry them out and they are legal, and you cannot use physical tactics. What Stewart did was funny. I wasn't angry, but if I spent 15 minutes out of every school day solving missing-shoe-due-to-lack-of-intelligent-forethought problems, my students would be in serious intellectual trouble.
Stewart was all set to go about his business in one shoe. I, on the other hand, neither relished the idea of having to remove sharp objects from his foot nor the lawsuit that would inevitably follow. Instead, Stewart accompanied me to our school's lost and found bin. I truly thought this was a long-shot. How many kids could possibly be losing a single shoe on school grounds?
Apparently, a lot. You would not have believed the plethora of orphan shoes we found in that bin; tennis shoes, sandals, loafers, jelly shoes (yes, jelly shoes) - how so many kids were managing to misplace one shoe and, more importantly, never caring enough to look for it in the lost and found, is beyond me. But, lucky for me (and not so lucky for Stewart), therein lay the consequence.
I know I said you shouldn't embarrass, but I was left with little choice in the matter and would be lying if I told you I was wholly disappointed. I cheefully said to Stewart, "Pick a shoe, any shoe!". As he put a random shoe that sort of fit on his foot, he stared at me as though I had potatoes sprouting from my ears. It wasn't until we were walking back to class that he gave in to the fact that I was really going to make him walk into the classroom wearing a mismatched pair of shoes. How uncool.
But after spending the majority of the day in his less than cool shoes, I would be surprised if "flying object" hadn't made it onto Stewart's mental list of things he no longer does with his shoes as well. One can only hope.
A couple weeks ago, Stewart came hobbling in from recess wearing only one shoe. Intrigued, I asked calmly, "Dude, where's your shoe?"
He shrugged, initially offering no explanation, so I pressed,
"Stewart, can you recall the last time your shoe was on your foot and what happened next?"
"Well, um...I think it might be in the bushes." and here Stewart recounted the story of how he'd lost his shoe. I'll spare you his lengthy version which contained no less than 314 pauses and "ums". In short, he'd removed said shoe, taken it tightly by the laces, swung it around his head until it reached maximum velocity, and let 'er fly! And fly it did because not a soul on the playground could discover the location of that shoe.
Now, consequences are a tricky thing when you're a teacher. You want them to be subtle, yet powerful. Yelling doesn't do any good. You don't want to embarrass or cause scenes. You can't make threats unless you are willing to carry them out and they are legal, and you cannot use physical tactics. What Stewart did was funny. I wasn't angry, but if I spent 15 minutes out of every school day solving missing-shoe-due-to-lack-of-intelligent-forethought problems, my students would be in serious intellectual trouble.
Stewart was all set to go about his business in one shoe. I, on the other hand, neither relished the idea of having to remove sharp objects from his foot nor the lawsuit that would inevitably follow. Instead, Stewart accompanied me to our school's lost and found bin. I truly thought this was a long-shot. How many kids could possibly be losing a single shoe on school grounds?
Apparently, a lot. You would not have believed the plethora of orphan shoes we found in that bin; tennis shoes, sandals, loafers, jelly shoes (yes, jelly shoes) - how so many kids were managing to misplace one shoe and, more importantly, never caring enough to look for it in the lost and found, is beyond me. But, lucky for me (and not so lucky for Stewart), therein lay the consequence.
I know I said you shouldn't embarrass, but I was left with little choice in the matter and would be lying if I told you I was wholly disappointed. I cheefully said to Stewart, "Pick a shoe, any shoe!". As he put a random shoe that sort of fit on his foot, he stared at me as though I had potatoes sprouting from my ears. It wasn't until we were walking back to class that he gave in to the fact that I was really going to make him walk into the classroom wearing a mismatched pair of shoes. How uncool.
But after spending the majority of the day in his less than cool shoes, I would be surprised if "flying object" hadn't made it onto Stewart's mental list of things he no longer does with his shoes as well. One can only hope.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Freshen Up
I am the secretary of our school's JSSC committee. JSSC stands for "Junior Savers" - no, it's "Just Say Something" - wait... okay, I have no idea what it stands for. All I know is that it is our responsibility to solve (or at least address) the problems of our school in a once-monthly, one hour meeting. We discuss the budget, who will clean out the faculty room fridge, why teachers aren't cleaning up after themselves, recess schedules, assemblies, field trips, contests, behavior plans - general school topics. But it was the following intense discussion that solidified my decision to act as secretary for another year.
"Okay, next on the list is air fresheners in the faculty restrooms." said Tracey. All eyes darted around the room, nervous about what this might mean, already pointing mental fingers at the culprit who would make this conversation necessary.
"The custodians need to make sure it's always in the bathrooms - especially the ones with two stalls." Oh no, she didn't. "It's common courtesy to use air freshener after using the restroom and we keep running out." Here, there were a few smart-alec comments, one was probably from me but I can't be sure: "Come on, people - all it takes is one quick spray!" and "How can we ensure that no one will take the new cans home for their own use?" Things like that.
The faces of the committee members ranged from utter embarrassement to pure amusement to near hysterical laughter. You may have already guessed where I fell in that range - I could not wait to type up these meeting minutes.
Finally, our principal said directly to the agenda in front of him, "Okay, I will talk to Joe about making sure he keeps an eye on that." And that was that. Somehow we did it without using the words stinky, smelly, poop, or number two. Thank God for small miracles; there are just certain words you don't ever want to hear coming out of certain co-workers' mouths.
Since this meeting, none have been as entertaining; though, the one involving the new signs above the toilets reading "This is a handle not a pedal!" came close.
"Okay, next on the list is air fresheners in the faculty restrooms." said Tracey. All eyes darted around the room, nervous about what this might mean, already pointing mental fingers at the culprit who would make this conversation necessary.
"The custodians need to make sure it's always in the bathrooms - especially the ones with two stalls." Oh no, she didn't. "It's common courtesy to use air freshener after using the restroom and we keep running out." Here, there were a few smart-alec comments, one was probably from me but I can't be sure: "Come on, people - all it takes is one quick spray!" and "How can we ensure that no one will take the new cans home for their own use?" Things like that.
The faces of the committee members ranged from utter embarrassement to pure amusement to near hysterical laughter. You may have already guessed where I fell in that range - I could not wait to type up these meeting minutes.
Finally, our principal said directly to the agenda in front of him, "Okay, I will talk to Joe about making sure he keeps an eye on that." And that was that. Somehow we did it without using the words stinky, smelly, poop, or number two. Thank God for small miracles; there are just certain words you don't ever want to hear coming out of certain co-workers' mouths.
Since this meeting, none have been as entertaining; though, the one involving the new signs above the toilets reading "This is a handle not a pedal!" came close.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Portrait
They often attempt it, but it is only on rare occasions that students manage to capture my likeness in a piece of art.
I believe that is what Jonah has done here.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Time Warp
On average, I would say I get about five or six excuses per week for coming in late from recess - give or take a few. The majority of them are unoriginal and clearly spur-of-the-moment, very little creativity or planning involved. Here are a few examples and how I generally respond:
"I didn't hear the bell."
Yet somehow the other 27 students in my class did. Hmmm...
"Well he was out there, too!"
Oh, I apologize. I didn't realize he was in charge of you. My bad.
"I was in the office with the principal."
Well, I can't wait to talk to her about what happened! I'll bet your mom is looking forward to it, too.
"I wasn't done playing."
Gosh, I hope you managed to wrap it up because your play time for today has officially come to an end.
"I had to wash my hands - they were dirty from the sandbox."
I don't really have a witty response for this one because any time they're willing to wash their hands, it's best not to discourage it.
Pretty standard stuff. So imagine my sheer joy when Jack answered my inquiry into his tardiness with,
"Mrs. Plant, you wouldn't have believed it. I just went through a time warp. I know it because I was in line to come in from recess, and then all of a sudden...everyone was gone."
Dun, dun, dun! Very mysterious.
Now, if you come to me with explanations of that caliber, you are bound to get away with coming in late.
"I didn't hear the bell."
Yet somehow the other 27 students in my class did. Hmmm...
"Well he was out there, too!"
Oh, I apologize. I didn't realize he was in charge of you. My bad.
"I was in the office with the principal."
Well, I can't wait to talk to her about what happened! I'll bet your mom is looking forward to it, too.
"I wasn't done playing."
Gosh, I hope you managed to wrap it up because your play time for today has officially come to an end.
"I had to wash my hands - they were dirty from the sandbox."
I don't really have a witty response for this one because any time they're willing to wash their hands, it's best not to discourage it.
Pretty standard stuff. So imagine my sheer joy when Jack answered my inquiry into his tardiness with,
"Mrs. Plant, you wouldn't have believed it. I just went through a time warp. I know it because I was in line to come in from recess, and then all of a sudden...everyone was gone."
Dun, dun, dun! Very mysterious.
Now, if you come to me with explanations of that caliber, you are bound to get away with coming in late.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Separation
Since the separation of church and state in Utah is often, shall we say "tricky" (I was going to say "non-existent", but didn't want to risk exaggeration), I would be surprised if many of you had not had a similar experience to the one I had in my classroom this week.
One of the skills first graders should have by the end of the school year is the ability to recognize pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters. To help students with this skill, we introduce the coins one by one, talk about what they're made of, how much they're worth, how many it would take to make a dollar, whose likeness is on the front, and what's depicted on the back. Here's a brief synopsis of how part of the lesson went yesterday (and how it goes most years):
Mrs. Plant: So we know whose head on the penny, right?
Logan: Abraham Lincoln! He died.
Mrs Plant: That's correct and also very insightful. Which president do you think is on the front of the Nickel?
Jonah: President Hinckley! (For those readers who don't know, this was the former president of the Mormon church).
Mrs. Plant: No, Jonah, President Hinckley was the president of a church, not our country. That's a good guess though because they were both "presidents." I'll give you a hint: he was the 3rd president of our country (insert the sound of birds chirping here). His name was Thomas Jefferson (here there was a brief discussion about this president that none of my students will remember, except maybe that he died). How about the dime? Any guesses on which President is on the dime?
Jonah: President Hinckley!
Mrs. Plant: No, Jonah. As I just explained, President Hinckley was the president of a church, not the United States. He's not on any of our money. I'll give you a hint: he was the 32nd president of the United States (insert the sound of crickets chirping here). Okay, his name was Franklin D. Roosevelt (blah, blah, blah, also dead). Let's move on to the quarter. I heard a few of you guess this president when we talked about the other coins.
Stewart: President Hinckley! (Really?)
Mrs. Plant: No. Not President Hinckley. A president of the United States by the name of George Washington - our first president - yep, also deceased. President Hinckley was the - oh forget it. Let's just go quietly back to our desks.
Like I said..."tricky".
One of the skills first graders should have by the end of the school year is the ability to recognize pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters. To help students with this skill, we introduce the coins one by one, talk about what they're made of, how much they're worth, how many it would take to make a dollar, whose likeness is on the front, and what's depicted on the back. Here's a brief synopsis of how part of the lesson went yesterday (and how it goes most years):
Mrs. Plant: So we know whose head on the penny, right?
Logan: Abraham Lincoln! He died.
Mrs Plant: That's correct and also very insightful. Which president do you think is on the front of the Nickel?
Jonah: President Hinckley! (For those readers who don't know, this was the former president of the Mormon church).
Mrs. Plant: No, Jonah, President Hinckley was the president of a church, not our country. That's a good guess though because they were both "presidents." I'll give you a hint: he was the 3rd president of our country (insert the sound of birds chirping here). His name was Thomas Jefferson (here there was a brief discussion about this president that none of my students will remember, except maybe that he died). How about the dime? Any guesses on which President is on the dime?
Jonah: President Hinckley!
Mrs. Plant: No, Jonah. As I just explained, President Hinckley was the president of a church, not the United States. He's not on any of our money. I'll give you a hint: he was the 32nd president of the United States (insert the sound of crickets chirping here). Okay, his name was Franklin D. Roosevelt (blah, blah, blah, also dead). Let's move on to the quarter. I heard a few of you guess this president when we talked about the other coins.
Stewart: President Hinckley! (Really?)
Mrs. Plant: No. Not President Hinckley. A president of the United States by the name of George Washington - our first president - yep, also deceased. President Hinckley was the - oh forget it. Let's just go quietly back to our desks.
Like I said..."tricky".
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Mr. Chocolate Bar
When we celebrate birthdays, the students are given the opportunity to bring a small bag containing a few of their favorite things to show to the class. Generally in any given school year I see a variety of small toys, stuffed animals, medals, trophies, pictures, video games - nothing extraordinarily exciting, to be honest. I try my best to appear blown away by the coolness of their stuff - as if it's the first time in my life I've ever seen a Transformer or Hello Kitty Purse; however, if I were to be truthful, in my seven years of teaching there has only ever been one object pulled from a bag that was truly awesome...
Mr. Chocolate Bar.
As Debi showed us the things from her bag, I was in my "try-to-look-interested" auto mode when she pulled out a Hershey's chocolate bar. I admit it did grab my attention a little, as would chocolate at any other moment of any given day or night. What I did not understand in that moment was that this particular candy bar was exceptional.
"This is Mr. Chocolate Bar." Debi explained as the melted chocolate bar flopped over in her hand like a dead fish. "Hi! I'm Mr. Chocolate Bar!" she responded in her best chocolate bar voice while at the same time flopping and unflopping the bar to imitate the movement of a mouth. The class was stunned and I can't say I blamed them. I'd never seen chocolate talk either.
After our introduction to Debi's friend, her mom, looking less than thrilled by her daughter's choice in playmates, gave a brief synopsis of how Mr. Chocolate Bar spent his afternoons; propped up on the couch watching the boob tube with Debi, enjoying the talk at the dinner table with the fam, listening to bedtime stories in Debi's lap, and cradled in Debi's arms as she drifted off to dream land. Then, every morning, it was back to the freezer for Mr. Chocolate Bar where he would harden up and anxiously await Debi's return from school later that day.
You know those times when you must laugh, but you know it's just not appropriate? Yeah. This was one of those times. I feel I held myself together pretty well under the circumstances, but I've been laughing ever since.
Up until this moment in my life, I can't say it had ever occurred to me to use chocolate as anything other than dessert (or breakfast, depending on the day). And I had certainly never considered the idea of chocolate - or any other food - as a companion. But this story is just one example of why I love how I spend my days. I get to explore ideas from angles I never knew existed.
After exploring this particular idea, I decided that my personal preference is still to eat chocolate. Not hang out with it.
Mr. Chocolate Bar.
As Debi showed us the things from her bag, I was in my "try-to-look-interested" auto mode when she pulled out a Hershey's chocolate bar. I admit it did grab my attention a little, as would chocolate at any other moment of any given day or night. What I did not understand in that moment was that this particular candy bar was exceptional.
"This is Mr. Chocolate Bar." Debi explained as the melted chocolate bar flopped over in her hand like a dead fish. "Hi! I'm Mr. Chocolate Bar!" she responded in her best chocolate bar voice while at the same time flopping and unflopping the bar to imitate the movement of a mouth. The class was stunned and I can't say I blamed them. I'd never seen chocolate talk either.
After our introduction to Debi's friend, her mom, looking less than thrilled by her daughter's choice in playmates, gave a brief synopsis of how Mr. Chocolate Bar spent his afternoons; propped up on the couch watching the boob tube with Debi, enjoying the talk at the dinner table with the fam, listening to bedtime stories in Debi's lap, and cradled in Debi's arms as she drifted off to dream land. Then, every morning, it was back to the freezer for Mr. Chocolate Bar where he would harden up and anxiously await Debi's return from school later that day.
You know those times when you must laugh, but you know it's just not appropriate? Yeah. This was one of those times. I feel I held myself together pretty well under the circumstances, but I've been laughing ever since.
Up until this moment in my life, I can't say it had ever occurred to me to use chocolate as anything other than dessert (or breakfast, depending on the day). And I had certainly never considered the idea of chocolate - or any other food - as a companion. But this story is just one example of why I love how I spend my days. I get to explore ideas from angles I never knew existed.
After exploring this particular idea, I decided that my personal preference is still to eat chocolate. Not hang out with it.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Five Step Program
I am patient. I believe it is necessary in order to survive in this profession. I must admit, however, that there are times when I reach a breaking point. For these rare occasions I have developed a five step program to help me through without destroying school property or harming children. It goes like this:
Step One: I cease all communication.
Step Two: I look toward the ceiling in hopes that the gods of education will shine down on me with everlasting solutions to the chaos before me.
Step Three: Once absolutely positive that there are no gods of education shining down with anything remotely helpful, I dramatically hide my face with my hands and pretend I am somewhere else.
Step Four: Whilst hiding, I take several moments to purge my mind of the various expletives that have taken root while at the same time letting out an audible moan.
Step Five: Slowly, I remove my hands from my face, hoping that my students have witnessed steps one through four and have corrected their behavior on their own.
(Note: To date, this five step program has proven ineffective.)
A couple weeks ago I was on step four, mentally preparing myself for the big reveal of step five, when I heard a voice only inches away from my hiding place,
"Mrs. Plant, you look really beautiful today." I peeked through my fingers to find Ella, a genuine gap-toothed smile gracing her innocent face. "That green is a good color on you."
In a split-second the program, and my reasons for embarking on it, had dissipated into thin air.
Forget five step programs when sincere flattery is an option; especially when it comes from a 6 year-old.
Step One: I cease all communication.
Step Two: I look toward the ceiling in hopes that the gods of education will shine down on me with everlasting solutions to the chaos before me.
Step Three: Once absolutely positive that there are no gods of education shining down with anything remotely helpful, I dramatically hide my face with my hands and pretend I am somewhere else.
Step Four: Whilst hiding, I take several moments to purge my mind of the various expletives that have taken root while at the same time letting out an audible moan.
Step Five: Slowly, I remove my hands from my face, hoping that my students have witnessed steps one through four and have corrected their behavior on their own.
(Note: To date, this five step program has proven ineffective.)
A couple weeks ago I was on step four, mentally preparing myself for the big reveal of step five, when I heard a voice only inches away from my hiding place,
"Mrs. Plant, you look really beautiful today." I peeked through my fingers to find Ella, a genuine gap-toothed smile gracing her innocent face. "That green is a good color on you."
In a split-second the program, and my reasons for embarking on it, had dissipated into thin air.
Forget five step programs when sincere flattery is an option; especially when it comes from a 6 year-old.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Harm
In order to write a good story in first grade, you must have the following elements: a catchy title, an attention-grabbing beginning, a middle with interesting details, and an ending that brings closure or solves the problem of the story. With these points in mind, I'd like to share with you a story by Ben (the spelling has not been changed). See if you can pinpoint each of the aforementioned elements with me.
The Battle In Space (catchy)
There was a battle and who'd win between marshans and aleins? (My attention was grabbed. Yours?) Floated over a blackhole, fighting, shooting, and harm. Because the losers will fall. (Whoa. And here come those details I mentioned.) And weapons, bows, arrows, clubs, boomerangs, spiny balls, forts, bases, bombs, swords, guns, planes (oh, we're not done), wood weapons, fireballs, fire, hot wood, metal balls the problem is solved! (Wait, what?) They need weapons! (Ah, I see now.) Then the fight began. They had a hard time getting organized. (Well, I'm not at all surprised, what with all those weapons to sort through.)
And that's how it ends. Leaving the reader begging for more.
And that's how it ends. Leaving the reader begging for more.
Overall, Ben's story is right on target. I'd just like to know who won - Marshans or Aleins?
I'm betting it was whoever had the hot wood.
I'm betting it was whoever had the hot wood.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Aw Nuts
We read a story in first grade entitled Lost! It's about a boy who meets up with a big grizzly bear that has managed to get himself lost (thus the title) in the middle of the city. Understandably, the bear is very upset and confused. Honestly, what bear wouldn't be given this situation? The boy, being the good Samaritan he is, makes it his responsibility to help the bear find its home in the forest.
Naturally, after the class has read this timeless adventure, in an attempt to make the story more memorable, I ask the thought-provoking question that all students should be required to ponder: What would you do if you came face to face with a bear in the city? Standard answers include: I would help the bear get home, I would be scared, or I would be the bear's friend, among other similar variations of the same answers.
This was the case until Christian came along.
Christian was a pint-sized kid with a gallon-sized attitude (he once threatened me with "a power of attorney"). Christian was intelligent. And Christian was not to be wooed by some make-believe story about a boy and his bear friend like those other naive 6 year-olds. No.
"Christian?" I asked when he raised his hand. "What would you do if you came face to face with a bear?"
"KICK HIM IN THE NUTS AND RUN!" he shouted, pride written straight across his sunburnt face.
And what could I say? The boy was right. We really shouldn't be teaching students to approach bears, should we?
Naturally, after the class has read this timeless adventure, in an attempt to make the story more memorable, I ask the thought-provoking question that all students should be required to ponder: What would you do if you came face to face with a bear in the city? Standard answers include: I would help the bear get home, I would be scared, or I would be the bear's friend, among other similar variations of the same answers.
This was the case until Christian came along.
Christian was a pint-sized kid with a gallon-sized attitude (he once threatened me with "a power of attorney"). Christian was intelligent. And Christian was not to be wooed by some make-believe story about a boy and his bear friend like those other naive 6 year-olds. No.
"Christian?" I asked when he raised his hand. "What would you do if you came face to face with a bear?"
"KICK HIM IN THE NUTS AND RUN!" he shouted, pride written straight across his sunburnt face.
And what could I say? The boy was right. We really shouldn't be teaching students to approach bears, should we?
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