Parent Letter

The season of Parent/Teacher conferences is upon us. I will get the pleasure of sitting at a table for five wonderful hours AFTER a full day of teaching tomorrow night. They're feeding us "dinner" for about fifteen minutes before hand starting around 2:45 and ending at 3:00. I would be infinitely more excited about this if I could get over that large number FIVE that keeps dangling in front of the word HOURS in my brain.

To help prepare for said conferences, I had my students write letters to their parent/guardian/loved ones/etc. today in class. These letters were modeled in a way that forced them to follow a certain pattern of "this is the grade I got, this is why I deserve it, I do this well in class, and I need to improve this in class" kind of thing, so that when I kindly tell a parent/guardian/loved one etc. that their charge needs to shut up, it can come from the student first and me second. Genius.

I scanned over them as I entered points into the gradebook tonight. Most of them are standard and predictable and spot on. Some of them are spot on in the most ironic way ever. Quotage:

"Three things that I do well in class are writing, reading, and talking." (This student isn't kidding about the 'good at talking' thing.)

"Dad says that if I get all A's throughout the whole year he will buy me an iTouch but this is midterm so it doesn't count so instead we should go and get ice cream on midterms." (I want ice cream! Also an iTouch. Will he buy me one too? - also, it surprises me HOW MANY of my students are bribed for good grades. I wasn't ever bribed for good grades. Damn my stupid self motivation.)

"I need to improv in this class by not taking out of turn and. . . my spelling a lot." (Only a small sampling of an error-filled letter. Yes. Spelling is a good place to start, my dear.)

"I feel I deserve (my grade) because I have been working hard to become the teachers Pet." (Snort. See? Brutal honesty.)

My favorite, though, was from a student who flat out refuses to work in my class. Obviously, judging by the state of said student's letter, they are not altogether impressed with me either:

"I didn't listen to the teacher and this class sucks. Its to hard and I want to change classes so I dont get any low grades." (My thoughts? Sweetheart, you don't get good grades in ANY class no matter how hard it is if you don't at least attempt to do something.)

"Three things I do well in class are play around and do some of my work and just sit there. I can improve by doing nothing." (Again with the brutal honesty. I kind of wonder what will happen if said student's mother shows up tomorrow. . . )

Ah well, can't win them all. Fortunately I have no desire to acquire early teen-aged friends at the moment.

I'm going to need more detail with that.

We're working on a project to help students with the basic elements of fiction right now. I'd completely forgotten that this kind of thing was ever necessary in school. You mean there was a time that someone had to explain to me what the word "plot" meant? Crazy.

To help get all the elements down, we're having students come up with the story of a superhero, a villain, and the conflict between them. Today was superhero day. Some of my students went to town, coming up with all sorts of crazy superhero power ideas from the conventional ("Can I have EVERY superhero power?!"/"Yes. As long as you have a weakness.") to the insane ("My power is that I can whistle and then boys come flying toward me!")

So ultra-annoyed-and-talks-too-much-student comes up to me to check off his super hero. Very defiantly, said student has decided to try and sabotage my project by coming up with a lame idea so that I can get mad and justify a reaction. Super power? Bending knees. I read through it and very kindly (and obnoxiously) said "I've never thought about that being a super power before. I think that's very creative. Now I'm going to need more detail from you in these two boxes. . . "

Student looked at me like I'd just pulled a rug out. It was pretty fantastic. Ultra-annoying student? 0. Me? 1.

Student Surveys

This weekend I have spent a bit of time entering grades on the first couple of assignments my students have had. Easy grading since I'm not reading much of it. It's all about participation points!

I will say, though, that the student surveys my classes have filled out have given me any number of things to laugh about at the moment. The seventh grade set may be deficient in many ways in terms of maturity and behavior but when they write they are often shamelessly blunt and I love them for it. Consider the following:

Question: What sort of qualities do you think a good teacher should have?

Answers:

• Teaching qualities.
• Pactence (Patience, I'm assuming.)
• "I think they should be nice and loud."

Question: Why would being able to read and write be important to you throughout your life?

Answer: "cause if your driving and you cant read the stop sign that would stink"

Answer: "so your not dumb"

Answer: "To write checks."

Question: What do you think makes someone a good reader? (What do good readers do?)

Answer: read Hairy Potter (A clever pun? Or honest spelling mistake?)

"My favorite movie is Titanic because it's sad and intrataning"

"One thing I do well as a writer is try to make it instistring."

"I wish I could read books about blood."

Question: When I have to read I: _____

Answer: Read. (Hilarious. And true.)

Some answers kind of make me go "wait. . . what?!" For example:

Question: What have you disliked about previous English classes:

Answer: "Saying it"

"With my friends, I like to take, _____________" (there wasn't anything listed after the "take")

Or:

"My favorite movie is Twilight because its romantic in ways that I can say."

Their spelling, too, is entertaining, and adds further proof to the point that English is far from the most intuitive language in terms of spelling. Because for all their mistakes, these kids are incredibly intuitive in how they spell things, even when they are wrong:

• Scients
• Perswasive
• noligabul

Really, though, I love how wonderfully blunt and unintentionally funny these kids are. Several of them owned up to being paid for good grades. One said that she gives her report card to her parents and then runs. One said that the best thing he does as a writer is gives an example of bad writing. Another that they do well as writers because they "read the fix", whatever that means.

Miss, what if. . . ?

I have made a new rule in my classroom that should (hopefully) help dispel a good deal of unnecessary storytelling and problem making over the next year.

You are not allowed to say anything that begins with 'what if.' An excellent gem of a tip from another teacher in the department. I'm in love with it. My other favorite is used when a student says something inappropriate: " (name) you have exactly thirty seconds to come up with a better way to say what you just said." Fantastic.

Lastly, here is my tip for teachers of the younger crowd of teenagers. Prepare not only for a group of avid storytellers, but also a group of expert non-sequitorians.

Yesterday I was cleaning my board between classes while being followed by a gaggle of students who have taken to me like ducklings. We were having a nice little conversation about the first day of school when one student looks up at me and says "yeah, my grandpa died last night," and then continued on with the rest of his story.

"Did he really?"

"Yep. So anyway. . . "

I wasn't sure whether to laugh at his nonchalance or wonder if he was lying. . .

It was a day.

1. I tripped down the ramp to my classroom once, but no one was looking.
2. In said tripping, I did not rip my new nylons (PHEW.)
3. I successfully called the kid in the back corner of my second period by the wrong name at least three times. He was kind enough to remind me of the error.
4. I did not lose any students in any of my three "locker opening practice" sessions, nor did I get yelled at by any other teachers because my students weren't that loud.
5. My powerpoint presentation worked, and my computer was not stolen. Also, some students were kind enough to laugh at my feeble jokes about wanting to marry Peter Pan.
6. For every student who stared at me like I was Professor Binns, there was at least one who made an attempt to look as though reading a Disclosure Document was entertaining and worth paying attention to.
7. I did not fall asleep on my feet.
8. I remembered to take attendance.
9. I remembered to lock my door when I left my room.
10. I still have my voice. Mostly.

All in all, I'd say it was a day. Not good or bad, just a day. All that can really be said of it right now comes in the form of a few quotes all from, you guessed it, Anne of Avonlea:

"When Anne reached the school that morning. . .for the first time in her
life she had traversed the Birch Path deaf and blind to its beauties. . .all was
quiet and still. The preceding teacher had trained the children to be in their
places at her arrival, and when Anne entered the schoolroom she was confronted
by prim rows of "shining morning faces" and bright, inquisitive eyes. She hung
up her hat and faced her pupils, hoping that she did not look as frightened and
foolish as she felt and that they would not perceive how she was trembling.

She had sat up until nearly twelve the preceding night composing a speech
she meant to make to her pupils upon opening the school. She had revised and
improved it painstakingly, and then she had learned it off by heart. It was a
very good speech and had some very fine ideas in it, especially about mutual
help and earnest striving after knowledge. The only trouble was that she could
not now remember a word of it."

*****

"When school was dismissed and the children had gone Anne dropped wearily
into her chair. Her head ached and she felt woefully discouraged. There was no
real reason for discouragement, since nothing very dreadful had occurred; but
Anne was very tired and inclined to believe that she would never learn to like
teaching. And how terrible it would be to be doing something you didn't like
every day for. . .well, say forty years."

*****

"Well, how did you get along?" Marilla wanted to know.

"Ask me that a month later and I may be able to tell you. I can't now .
. .I don't know myself. . .I'm too near it. My thoughts feel as if they had been
all stirred up until they were thick and muddy. The only thing I feel really
sure of having accomplished today is that I taught Cliffie Wright that A is A.
He never knew it before. Isn't it something to have started a soul along a path
that may end in Shakespeare and Paradise Lost?"

My Little Buttercup

My "To-Do" list is astronomical. I think it could go around the world several times and I haven't even had my first day yet. (Yet being the operative word, it is fast aproaching.) And after several meetings today (including one where I met the parent of a student who has several physical and emotional problems not least of which is pathological lying) and hours in front of a computer (and miles to go before I sleep), I was starting to fall under.

And then the Pandora box of love and goodness opened and I received a gift from the powers that be. Out of no where: My Little Buttercup randomly appeared on a playlist and five minutes later after I'd nearly wet myself and practically had tears running down my face from laughter, I pulled out of stress.

I can totally do this. If The Three Amigos can go and save an entire village from the wiles of El Guapo with a song and dance, then certainly I can rescue young immature minds with a bit of tomfoolery, right?!

So, Steve Martin and Martin Short, this one's for you.

What the? How long has that been there?

My room is ready. It is READY! It is open for business and acceptable for student use now. Or rather, it will be as soon as textbooks are in and I have a new transparency projector that doesn't have a little fluttering thing inside it that makes weird images on the screen and a cart for it and after I've taken the trash out, but other than THAT, it's all ready.

Also I need a phone.

I did find two very interesting things in the process of finally hanging my bullitan board and putting things into storage spaces instead of keeping them on my student desks.

1. A bit of snake skin.
2. Four human teeth.

I'm not joking.