Two Things I've Learned

A quick review of the third term of first grade.  Spelling is in its original form, as usual.  Classic.

I've learned a lot so far in first grade.  Two things I've learned are...

subchrashen and campond wrods. - Lisa
to read better and number bonds. - Luis
number bonds and seeds. - Jackson
illeshtreters and muny. - Dillon
to put stuff at the end [he had an arrow pointing to his period] and olso the rain forest. - Avery
compound words and number bonds. - Richard
number bonds and conpound words. - Kelly
maf and time. - Myra
haw to read and haw to tel time. - Vince

And the prize for deepest introspection...

Dillon likes Jennifer to chas him and that Will dsint like Henry. - Chris

I suppose I should just be glad he learned something.

I Am Important

We're all important. 

Some of us for very special reasons.

(I think Dad would agree.)

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.