brette

So the school’s talent show is tomorrow night, and one of my 4th period sweethearts is going to sing.  The other day, the choir director was telling me how great she is.  The following conversation ensued: 

C:  Hey A!  Are you in the talent show?

A is TOTALLY bashful about it…

Me:  Oh yeah!  Mr. J was just telling me the other day how much he likes the song you’re singing!

A:  Really??

Me:  Yeah, he said it’s great!

C:  Yeah, I couldn’t be a singer.  Singers fart all the time.

Me:  What?

C:  Singers fart a lot!  That’s, like, all they do.  And then they burp.  They fart and burp a lot.

 I can only imagine what life experiences led him to believe that.  (C is also sexy binders kid.)

Then, in 6th period, I made the announcement that I would be gone for two days after Spring Break.  One girl started asking me about my plans, which led to this:

A:  So Miss, are you going to get a boyfriend over spring break?

Me:  What?  Am I going to go find myself a boyfriend??

A:  Or if you already have one, are you going to get married?

Me:  Uh…

R:  She’s already married!

Me:  What??

R:  Just look at her ring!  [He takes my hand] See?  It’s invisible!

Me:  No, I am not getting married, and no, I am not getting myself a boyfriend.

A:  Oh, ok!

A is a part of my gaggle of girls; they are all curious about my relationship status.  It’s fun to keep them guessing.  R is the one who gets all his advice on women from the school’s police officer.  (That officer, by the way, had NO idea how R got that message from him.)

Oh, these children…

I have strange students.

One of my 4th period goofablls goes through phases of playing with her syntax.  A few weeks ago, she would make everything plural:  “Misses, I’m not dones with my Daily Math Reviews.”  “Jessicas, can you helps mes?”  “Is it times for our lunches?”

Thankfully, she grew out of that.  Now, however, she has started replacing random words with “cracker.”  Apparently, she really likes “crackers.”  Yesterday, I covered for another teacher, and overheard this bit of conversation:

Another student:  [something something something] Emmanuel’s baby.

Goofball:  Oh, yeah, Emmanuel’s cracker.

Me:  Uh…is “cracker” code for “baby”?

Goofball:  No, I just like crackers.

Today, it got to the point where I could not keep a straight face.  When we come back from lunch, I have my students line up on the wall, get quiet, and then I give them instructions before I let them in.  This is what transpired:

Goofball:  Come on, guys!  Get in a cracker!

Then, a little while later…

Goofball:  Come on!  Stand on the cracker!
Another student:  Uh, what does cracker mean?

Goofball:  Cracker can mean anything!  Line, wall–anything!  Ms. G is a cracker!

I started snickering…

Goofball:  What, Miss?  You’re a cracker!  E [the token White student, who just happened to be standing nearby] is a cracker!

I’m 99.9% sure that she is COMPLETELY oblivious to the 1970s use of the word “cracker.”  I couldn’t take it when she started calling ME, the White teacher, (and E, the token White student, for that matter) crackers.  I didn’t bother explaining it–I think it’s best to just let it slide.

While discussing triangles–Right, Acute, Obtuse, Scalene, Isosceles, AND Equilateral:

J: Miss, how do you memorize all this stuff?

R:  Because she’s a woman!

Me:  Ex-CUSE me?!

R:  Women have good memories.

Me:  I–uh–ok.  I don’t have any good trick to mem–

R:  That’s why you can’t cheat on them.

Me:  WHAT??

R:  Because then they’ll remember and they’ll hold it over you forever!

Me:  Uh…

R:  That’s what Officer Johnson [the school’s police officer] said!

Me:  Well, I guess Officer Johnson gives good advice.  Anyway, how about those triangles?

 I couldn’t even make this stuff up if I tried. 

My students have binders for my class.  Each student has a binder that lives on the shelf at the back of my room.  In theory, they retrieve this binder at the beginning of class and put them away at the end of each class.

On occasion, the binders are not put away properly.  Students will sometimes stay after to help clean up their class’s section of the shelf.  Today, one of my particularly ridiculous/hilarious 7th graders stayed after for just that purpose.  He even sorted them by color (black on one side, blue on the other).  When appraising his work–to be fair, the binders were pretty neat–he proudly stated:

“Man, that’s sexy.”

Indeed, those are very sexy binders.

I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with Sundays.  On the one hand, it’s a perfectly lovely weekend day.  On the other hand, it always ends with the knowledge that I must go back to school the next day.

This year, I have come to have more of a hate-hate relationship with Sundays.  There is never, ever enough time during the weekend to accomplish all that I set out to do:  sleep, grade papers, have fun, plan lesson, relax, run errands, and so on and so forth.  All day Sunday, there is a building anxiety–a deep fear and nervousness that I am woefully unprepared for the impending week.

Another Sunday evening has snuck up on me.  I know that I have my lessons planned for the week.  I have warm-ups and practice ready to be copied tomorrow morning.  I finished my grading hours ago, and even managed to go grocery shopping, clean my apartment, AND do some laundry.  If given a few more hours, I’m not even sure what I would do–maybe read a book on classroom management?  Watch some TV?  Nothing terribly important.

And yet!  Try as I might, I cannot shake this feeling that I am not prepared and am not ready.  Sundays suck.

A fight nearly broke out in 2nd period today.  In fact, it got so heated that an administrator had to come down the hall to make sure everything was ok.  This fight of potentially epic proportions was about…

The volume of a sphere.

That’s right.  My 8th graders started fighting about who could answer a problem correctly.  I have never seen those kids work so hard and care so much about an answer.  It all began with the formula for the volume of a sphere:  it looks complicated, but it’s really simple.  It’s just 4/3*pi*r^3.  I broke it down, and most of them got it pretty quickly.  I had them practice, and that’s when things started to get heated:

H and L (working together):  Hey Miss, is this right?

Me:  Well, you took the radius cubed–good.  Times pi–ok.  Times 4, and then divided by 3?  Perfect!

[Time passes, and eventually AB gets to the same problem]

AB:  Hey L, this is what you got for #3, right?

L:  No, that’s wrong.

AB:  What?  No it’s not!

H:  Yeah, that’s not what we got–and Ms G said we’re right

AB:  Ok, I’ll try it again.

[AB tries again]

AB:  I got the same thing!  And I know I’m doing this right

H:  Well, Ms G said we’re right

AB:  Well, even Ms G makes mistakes sometimes

Me:  That’s true, girls–I checked your process, not your arithmetic.  I trust that y’all know how to multiply and divide.

AB:  Ha!  See?

L:  No, we’re right.  Try it again.

[AB goes to the board, to try it again in big purple marker]

AB:  Look–this is right!

H:  But it’s not what we got!  Ms G said we were right!

L:  Miss, will you work it out for us?

Me:  Ok.  [Now I go to the board to work it out…]  This is the answer.  I’m sure this is right.

AB:   But!!  No!

H:  HA!  We got it!

L:  See, AB?  Even you make mistakes sometimes.

AB:  No way.  Where did I go wrong?  I’m doing this problem over until I get it right!

[H and L high-five and continue gloating.  AB is indignant that she got an answer WRONG!  The debate gets so loud and so heated that an AP shows up in my door]

AP:  What on earth is going on here?  I can hear you all the way down the hall in my office!!

 

We had nothing to say except a very sheepish “Sorry!  We were working on a math problem…”

My other 8th grade class was equally hilarious, but considerably less invested.  Towards the end of the period, a few guys who sit in the back (R, S, and D) had clearly given up getting their homework done before the weekend.  They started discussing cartoon characters:

R:  Miss, do you know Mario?

Me:  Maybe–I know a lot of Marios.  Which one?

R:  The one that’s really fat and can jump really high.

Me:  Well…I might know who you’re talking about.  I’ve got a couple Marios in first period, and one in–

R:  No!  Not a student.  He wears red all the time, and has a hat.

Me:  OH–you mean the Nintendo Mario!

R:  Yeah–him!  How can he jump so high when he’s so fat?

Me:  You know, I have no idea.  I’ve never really thought about it.

S:  And his hat!  He jumps up and hits stuff and it always stays right there.  It’s like it’s attached to his head or something.

D:  And why doesn’t he ever change clothes?  He’s always wearing the same thing!

R:  What about Sonic the Hedgehog?  He doesn’t even WEAR clothes!

Me:  But when have you seen hedgehogs wear clothes?

D:  He wears gloves and shoes, though.  Why not clothes?

Me:  Good point.  But Donald Duck wears a shirt and no pants.

S:  I know!  And why not?  And there’s that other Sonic character–he wears gloves and shoes and a BELT…but no pants.

R:  Why wear a belt without pants?

D:  I think Goofy is really the only civilized cartoon character.  He’s got pants AND a shirt

Me:  Well, what about Mickey?  And Minnie?  Don’t they wear clothes?

R:  Nope, Mickey only wears pants–but no shirt.  His chest is just hanging out all over the place!

Me:  Good point…

S:  Cartoons are really funny when you think about them.  What about that Hey Arnold guy?  What’s with the shape of his head?

D:  Oh!  And that dumb little hat he wears?

Me:  And his hair is just sticking out all funny-like!

S:  He’s totally weird.

R:  Yeah, and what’s with Eggman?  He’s got these big ole feet, skinny little legs, and a FAT body!

[And so on and so forth until the bell rang]

 

So THEN we get to 7th grade…where we learned about “Mental Percents”–that is, percents you do in your head.  Some students decided that the notes would be titled “METAL Percents”–so…totally rockin’ percents with Ozzy?  Or percents made of iron and tin?  Or percents of metals in ores?  I have no idea.

I also have this gaggle of girls that really like me.  They hang out with me while I’m doing morning duty (ie, watching kids walk from the bus into the school), and they will talk and talk and talk and talk until it’s time to go.  It’s mostly cute, until I have to try to get THEM into the school–they never want to go.  Most of them are in my 6th period class (my last class of the day), and they sometimes stay to help me clean up.  Today, they started ARGUING over who would get to erase my board.  And they race to pick up my trash.  (I think it’s because I sometimes give them candy for doing so…)

 For the record, though:  My board is now totally spotless and there is NO trash on my floor.  My custodian will love me.

Today, we did a polling lab.  We polled the class about their favorite soda, found the percent of the class that likes each soda, and then extrapolated to find out how many people in the school would like each soda.

Me:  “You must pick one category–Coke, Dr Pepper, Sprite, or Other.  If you prefer Pepsi, orange soda, or something else, that falls into Other.”

Student 1:  “What if you don’t like soda?”

Me:  “If you’d rather drink water or juice or something, I guess that would be Other.”

Student 2:  “Yeah!  I’m a vegetarian!!”

Well, I guess it’s a good thing that I didn’t offer him any of that Meat Soda…  Chicken Coke is the new Cherry Coke, you know!

Seriously.  I couldn’t even keep a straight face at that point!  I’m still not sure if he actually knows what it means to be a vegetarian…

For the third quarter, I have morning duty.  Basically, I have to watch kids filter from the buses to the gym and make sure that they a.) don’t hurt each other, b.) keep moving, and c.) have their shirts tucked in.  It’s not exactly glamorous, but it certainly makes for some interesting moments:

Me:  “Good morning!”
Student I don’t know: “Miss, what’s your name?”

Me:  “Ms. G”

SIDK: “Oh, YOU’RE Ms. G? I thought Ms. G was that skinny lady I hate!”

Me: [out loud] “Have a nice day!”  [in my head] “Thanks?  I’m glad I’m not that skinny lady you hate!”

And then there was a few days ago, when a gaggle of my 6th period girls stopped around me to chat:

Student I DO know: “Oh, Miss!  Can I take a picture of you?”

Me: [Thinking they would bring a camera another day] “Uh, sure, I guess.”

SIDoK: “Ok!” [Whips out cell phone]

Other girls then whip out THEIR cell phones.

Me: “Uh…cheese!”

So watch for pictures of me on Myspace or something?  It was some of my good kids that took my picture, so I’m not seriously worried they’ll do something bad with it.

Seriously.  These kids are hilarious.  Every day is a new adventure.

My fortune cookie from Pei Wei this evening:

“Endurance and persistence will be rewarded”

It’s helpful to be reassured of this sometimes, even if a cookie has to tell me.

On Halloween, I got a few treats and one nasty trick:  A student stole my phone.

Here’s pretty much how the day went:

• Shortly after 8:00 am, I think to myself “I’ve been having a rough week.  I should go talk to someone so that I’ll feel better before classes start.  I’ll go see Ms. N for just a minute.”  And I go see Ms. N for a few more minutes than I intended, leaving my room unlocked.
• Around 8:25 am, I walk back towards my room, and pass one of my students (I’ll call them X) walking in the other direction.  “Hey, X, were you coming to see me?”  “Yeah, but I have a question for Ms. B, so I’m going to her now.”  “Oh, ok, I’ll see you in a bit.”  “Yeah, see you”
• When I get back to my room, I look in my purse (sitting next to, but not yet inside, my desk) for my phone, so that I can send a text.  I can’t find it.  But you know, I’ve been leaving things at home all week.  “Surely I left it at home, charging next to my bed.”  Besides, my iPod, keys, USB drive, credit cards, and other valuables were there.
• X comes back, and we talk for a bit.  We chat about how he’s been working hard to keep his grades up, so that he can play football.  We chat about what a good job he’s doing now in math, even though he wasn’t doing well at the beginning of the year.  I answer a couple questions about decimal division.

Fast forward a few hours:

• During 4th period, I notice X has his head down, kind of hidden in his sweatshirt.  I walk over, to wake him up, and notice the glow of an electronic device from inside his shirt.  “X, you need to give me your cell phone.”  “What??”  “I see your cell phone, you need to give it to me.  You aren’t allowed to have them on in school.”  I catch a glimpse of the screen, and notice it’s an iPhone (just like my phone, only the picture on the screen is different).  “But I was just turning it off, Miss.”  “Really?  So if I check the recent calls and texts, it won’t show anything?”  “Recent calls?  It’s just an iTouch, it’s not even a phone.  Really, Miss, I’m just making sure it’s off.”  And he put it away, so I let it slide.
• I thought about emailing my boyfriend, to let him know that I didn’t have my phone and couldn’t call or text him until I got home.  But I closed the message without sending it.

Fast forward to the end of the day:

• Around 5:15, I got home, and immediately went to look for my phone by my bed.  It wasn’t there.  It wasn’t on the bed.  It wasn’t in my car.  Thankful to have a landline, I called it.  I couldn’t hear it from anywhere in the apartment.
• I call my boyfriend, since we had plans that evening.  “Why didn’t you answer my texts today?  Why are you calling from a different phone?”  “Well, I think I left my cell phone at home, but I can’t find it.”  ”When did you leave it at home?  I got a weird text from you at 11am.”
• Clearly, my phone was NOT in my possession at 11am.  The text was something ridiculous, like “wat up wit it u n me?”  I knew a kid had taken it when I was talking to Ms. N.  I immediately thought of X, and how he had an “iTouch” and had been to my room to see me in the morning.
• I called my principal, who told me to file an incident report on Monday.  I called ATT, to suspend my service.  They told me how to see the texts being sent out.  I called the Houston police, to see if they could help me, but they didn’t.  THEN I called the school district police, who said to come down and file a report with them any time over the weekend.

On Saturday morning, there was a TFA PDS thing.

• At 1pm, I drove to the district’s police department, and filed a report.  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but they’ve probably already sold the phone.  I’m not sure we’ll be able to get it back.”  I refused to give up hope–if the kid was really just trying to get money, they would have taken other valuables in my purse.
• I looked up the phone numbers that had been texted.  One number was texted repeatedly.  I looked up the number’s owner, but that was fruitless.  So I called it:  “Hey, you sent me a few texts yesterday, and I was just wondering who this was.”  “Huh?”  “You texted me, at ***-***-****, and I was just wondering who this was.”  “Oh, those weren’t meant for you.”  “I know, but who is this?”  “Uh, my name’s L.”  “Ok, L.  Who were you texting?  Who has my phone?”  “Um…um…Do you know X?”  “Yeah, I do.  He has it?”  “Yeah…don’t tell him I told you”  “Ok, thanks.”
• I called X’s mom.  All the numbers I had were bad.
• I called the football coaches.  They couldn’t get to another number for her–they were all in the gym.
• I called the police back, and told them X’s name and address.  They paid him a visit and got my phone back.

I didn’t want it to be X.  There are many kids from whom this would make sense, or at least seem reasonable.  But not X.  I even looked up his schedule and saw that a text was sent during his gym class.  “Surely he couldn’t have sent a text during gym–so it can’t be him.”  X is one of the kids I talk to more frequently, one of the ones I’ve given extra help to.  He’s told me about his family, and going to a Haunted House and getting really scared.  We were talking that day about how hard he was working in school, and how proud I was that he brought all his grades up and was passing everything.  I liked him.

And then he did something really, really dumb.