I was rather irate when the came into class. It wasn't their fault, so I tried not to make a big deal out of it, but it didn't take them very long to notice that something was different. They were pretty curious, but after I assured them that they were not the target of my anger, most of them were satisfied. Brian, however, wanted some further clarification.
Brian: Miss, did someone accuse you of being a pagan?
Me: No
Brian: Good. Because that would be really insulting!
That made me giggle. Then we had a pretty good class on the Civil War.
28 January 2010
22 January 2010
Pets
I do not have pets. I am not sad about this. I am not anti-animal, but I am decidedly anti-indoor-pet for two reasons:
1. The amount of red hair around the house is more than sufficient. I see no need to add animal hair to the mix.
2. Animals have a distinctive smell that does not belong in my house. If I want to smell animals, I will go to the zoo.
The Texan is much less anti-pet, therefore we have a fish tank. I do not clean the fish tank, I do not feed the fish, and if I ever start to smell fish in the house the tank will disappear. Under these conditions, I actually kind of like the fish tank. In the early days of the fish tank the Texan named a fish, but it died less than an hour later. Now we keep nameless fish. Currently we have ten. One of these fish is a jerk. I refer to him as the mean fish. He is territorial and aggressive and has managed to restrict the other nine fish to a small corner of the tank. The mean fish has intimidated one particular fish to the point that it was unable to come out of its hiding place and eat for several days in a row.
One day as the Texan was feeding his fish, the frightened fish finally emerged and tried to eat, but the mean fish quickly chased it back under a rock. The Texan was tired of this selfishness, and decided it was time for action. He took the mean fish out of the tank and put him in a bucket on the floor for a few minutes. I came home a few hours later to find all ten fish happily swimming throughout the entire tank. When I asked the Texan about this fishy behavior he proudly explained that he had taught the mean fish to be nice by putting him in time out.
1. The amount of red hair around the house is more than sufficient. I see no need to add animal hair to the mix.
2. Animals have a distinctive smell that does not belong in my house. If I want to smell animals, I will go to the zoo.
The Texan is much less anti-pet, therefore we have a fish tank. I do not clean the fish tank, I do not feed the fish, and if I ever start to smell fish in the house the tank will disappear. Under these conditions, I actually kind of like the fish tank. In the early days of the fish tank the Texan named a fish, but it died less than an hour later. Now we keep nameless fish. Currently we have ten. One of these fish is a jerk. I refer to him as the mean fish. He is territorial and aggressive and has managed to restrict the other nine fish to a small corner of the tank. The mean fish has intimidated one particular fish to the point that it was unable to come out of its hiding place and eat for several days in a row.
One day as the Texan was feeding his fish, the frightened fish finally emerged and tried to eat, but the mean fish quickly chased it back under a rock. The Texan was tired of this selfishness, and decided it was time for action. He took the mean fish out of the tank and put him in a bucket on the floor for a few minutes. I came home a few hours later to find all ten fish happily swimming throughout the entire tank. When I asked the Texan about this fishy behavior he proudly explained that he had taught the mean fish to be nice by putting him in time out.
10 January 2010
What Would Jesus Do?
On Sundays I teach the 5 and 6 year olds. I have been doing this since April, and was a little nervous about it at first, but it turns out that they are remarkably similar to the high school kids. Today's lesson was titled "I can choose the right." First we played follow the leader. Then I asked the kids how to follow Jesus. Kaitlyn answered, "You do what he would do and not things that mean and grumpy people do." I felt good about that answer and told the kids that they could ask themselves what Jesus would want them to do, and then do it. A few minutes later Will interrupted me:
Will: Teacher, there is something black on that chair next to you. It's gross.
Me: You're right. That's why I decided not to sit in that chair.
Will: Do you know what Jesus would want us to do?
Me: What?
Will: He would want us to try to clean it off so that His church isn't dirty.
Me: I think you're right.
So we found a wet paper towel and cleaned the chair.
Will: Teacher, there is something black on that chair next to you. It's gross.
Me: You're right. That's why I decided not to sit in that chair.
Will: Do you know what Jesus would want us to do?
Me: What?
Will: He would want us to try to clean it off so that His church isn't dirty.
Me: I think you're right.
So we found a wet paper towel and cleaned the chair.
21 December 2009
Coaches
For some reason Social Studies departments tend to employ a lot of coaches. I like coaches. Most of them are dedicated and talented teachers who discovered that it's hard to find a teaching job without coaching something, so they took up a sport in order to make themselves more employable. They are fun to work with. They have a lot of personality. They have insane schedules, so they know how to get a lot of work done in a short amount of time. They relate with the kids really well, they don't take themselves too seriously, and are in general some of the most supportive and helpful colleagues I have.
Some coaches are stupid. These are the ones that got a degree in education so that they could find a coaching job. They aren't really great at teaching, and they aren't good at coaching, but they are excellent at giving the whole profession a bad name.
I have a student who is failing my AP class. The conversation I had with him last week is a perfect example of the bad influence of an incompetent coach.
Me: You're missing several assignments in this class. You're going to need to turn them in soon, or you won't be able to pass.
Student: I know Miss.
Me: Do you have the list of make up work I gave you?
Student: Yes.
Me: Do you need help with any of the assignments?
Student: No
Me: OK. Semester grades are due on Thursday. I need your stuff turned in before then
Student: It's OK miss...Coach told me I'm eligible to play.
Me: (confused by the abrupt change in subject) What?
Student: Yeah. I didn't do too well in History last year so coach told me I should take AP this year. That way if I fail I'm still eligible to play.
Me: You might be eligible to play, but if you fail you still don't get credit. If you fail history you'll be a Junior again next year.
Student: Oh. Coach didn't tell me that...
Some coaches are stupid. These are the ones that got a degree in education so that they could find a coaching job. They aren't really great at teaching, and they aren't good at coaching, but they are excellent at giving the whole profession a bad name.
I have a student who is failing my AP class. The conversation I had with him last week is a perfect example of the bad influence of an incompetent coach.
Me: You're missing several assignments in this class. You're going to need to turn them in soon, or you won't be able to pass.
Student: I know Miss.
Me: Do you have the list of make up work I gave you?
Student: Yes.
Me: Do you need help with any of the assignments?
Student: No
Me: OK. Semester grades are due on Thursday. I need your stuff turned in before then
Student: It's OK miss...Coach told me I'm eligible to play.
Me: (confused by the abrupt change in subject) What?
Student: Yeah. I didn't do too well in History last year so coach told me I should take AP this year. That way if I fail I'm still eligible to play.
Me: You might be eligible to play, but if you fail you still don't get credit. If you fail history you'll be a Junior again next year.
Student: Oh. Coach didn't tell me that...
09 December 2009
How to be a Real Person
My AP kids are not funny. Sometimes I think that they are not real kids, they are just little grade earning robots. They do their homework, they follow directions, and they're pretty good at multiple choice exams, but they lack creativity. I told them that they have sacrificed their souls to the god of good grades and have no personality.
Seriously, they have no soul. Take, for example, the flu episode. (I'm not sure if it was of the swine variety or not.)
Day 1 : I was feeling pretty horrible and knew that I wouldn't be able to make it to school the next day, so I went to the other AP teacher and asked her if she had something that would be good for me to leave for my kids to do with a substitute. She pulled an article with accompanying questions out of her files. I must have looked pretty sick because she was about to hand it to me, but instead declared it would be better if I didn't touch her stuff, and offered to make copies for me. A few minutes later she came back with a pile of copies. I left them on my desk for the substitute, and went home without really looking at them.
Day 2 : I stayed home to nurse my violently ill self back to health.
Day 3: I still wasn't feeling great, but went back to school. I looked over the assignment that I had left for the kids and realized that it was far more work than anyone really could accomplish in one day. I knew the kids hadn't been able to take the assignment home because there was only a class set of copies, so I told them they could spend the class period finishing their work from the day before. They insisted that they were ready to hand it in. I was certain they were lying to me, but every student was able to produce a completed assignment to hand to me. I was quite baffled. When I asked for an explanation they told me they had asked another teacher to make copies for them so they could take it home and finish it as homework. They are insane.
I have decided that it is time to take action. In addition to the development of political parties, the economic policies of Andrew Jackson, and the effects of the Second Great Awakening on the Abolition movement, I have added to my classroom curriculum a unit entitled "How to be a real person." The following are my unit objectives:
1) Students will understand that in a few years no one in the entire world will care what their high school GPA was.
2) Students will learn that despite their years of academic training it doesn't really matter if you put your name on the right or left corner of the paper, or how many lines you skip between answers.
3) Students will learn to value more than just academic achievement. They will learn to also appreciate having fun, making friends, being creative, and helping their mothers do the dishes.
4) Students will learn that being able to quote a definition from the textbook doesn't actually mean they are intelligent. They will learn to use the book to inform and facilitate their own thinking, but not to substitute for it.
5) Students will learn that their grades are in no way a reflection of their worth as a person.
I'm fairly certain that none of these objectives will ever appear on a state standardized assessment, but I think they are worthwhile anyway.
Seriously, they have no soul. Take, for example, the flu episode. (I'm not sure if it was of the swine variety or not.)
Day 1 : I was feeling pretty horrible and knew that I wouldn't be able to make it to school the next day, so I went to the other AP teacher and asked her if she had something that would be good for me to leave for my kids to do with a substitute. She pulled an article with accompanying questions out of her files. I must have looked pretty sick because she was about to hand it to me, but instead declared it would be better if I didn't touch her stuff, and offered to make copies for me. A few minutes later she came back with a pile of copies. I left them on my desk for the substitute, and went home without really looking at them.
Day 2 : I stayed home to nurse my violently ill self back to health.
Day 3: I still wasn't feeling great, but went back to school. I looked over the assignment that I had left for the kids and realized that it was far more work than anyone really could accomplish in one day. I knew the kids hadn't been able to take the assignment home because there was only a class set of copies, so I told them they could spend the class period finishing their work from the day before. They insisted that they were ready to hand it in. I was certain they were lying to me, but every student was able to produce a completed assignment to hand to me. I was quite baffled. When I asked for an explanation they told me they had asked another teacher to make copies for them so they could take it home and finish it as homework. They are insane.
I have decided that it is time to take action. In addition to the development of political parties, the economic policies of Andrew Jackson, and the effects of the Second Great Awakening on the Abolition movement, I have added to my classroom curriculum a unit entitled "How to be a real person." The following are my unit objectives:
1) Students will understand that in a few years no one in the entire world will care what their high school GPA was.
2) Students will learn that despite their years of academic training it doesn't really matter if you put your name on the right or left corner of the paper, or how many lines you skip between answers.
3) Students will learn to value more than just academic achievement. They will learn to also appreciate having fun, making friends, being creative, and helping their mothers do the dishes.
4) Students will learn that being able to quote a definition from the textbook doesn't actually mean they are intelligent. They will learn to use the book to inform and facilitate their own thinking, but not to substitute for it.
5) Students will learn that their grades are in no way a reflection of their worth as a person.
I'm fairly certain that none of these objectives will ever appear on a state standardized assessment, but I think they are worthwhile anyway.
26 August 2009
The kids are back...
And they are off to a great start. Here are my three favorite comments from the first day of school:
1) Does the United Statets really have a capital? I thought only individual states had those.
2) Wasn't George Washington the President during World War I?
3) Is California on the East coast or the West coast?
In celebration of my new job, I answered the last question by using a map.
1) Does the United Statets really have a capital? I thought only individual states had those.
2) Wasn't George Washington the President during World War I?
3) Is California on the East coast or the West coast?
In celebration of my new job, I answered the last question by using a map.
23 August 2009
Heat Men
Once upon a time, in my pre-reading days, I was sitting at home, and I was very cold. Specifically my legs were very cold. Being rather young and not too self sufficient i decided to respond to my discomfort by whining. My dad suggested that I could not just sit and whine and remain cold, but rather remedy the situation by putting on a jacket. I knew this was a dumb idea for two reasons:
1) My jacket was hanging in a closet in the cold house, and therefore also cold. Putting this cold jacket on would only serve to make my arms as cold as my legs.
2) A jacket would not cover my legs, which, as you may recall, was the part of me that was freezing.
Therefore, I concluded there was nothing to do but sit and suffer, rather loudly, from hypothermia. Although I am fairly certain hypothermia was not yet a part of my vocabulary I'm sure I was thinking some juvenile synonym of hypothermia which currently escapes me.
My dad explained to me that a jacket was a perfect solution to my impeding death by cold because of the heat men. Heat men are the little men that live inside of your body that keep it warm. But the heat men do not simply sit inside your body contentedly keeping it at a pleasant and comfortable temperature. Heat men want to escape and live in the air. They rush around your body looking for avenues of departure. My dad explained to me that if I put on a jacket the heat men that were trying to escape through my arms would get stuck thereby making the jacket warm. Problem 1 solved. He further explained that those heat men would send out the message to other heat men that the arm escape route had been cut off. The rest of the heat men would rush down to my legs looking for an alternate route, and in no time my legs would be nice and toasty. And thus I would not freeze to death. This made sense to me, and I put on a jacket.
My dad insists that he does not remember this conversation, but to this day every time I put on a jacket I imagine little heat men, who look remarkably like little green army men, rushing around my body trying to escape.
1) My jacket was hanging in a closet in the cold house, and therefore also cold. Putting this cold jacket on would only serve to make my arms as cold as my legs.
2) A jacket would not cover my legs, which, as you may recall, was the part of me that was freezing.
Therefore, I concluded there was nothing to do but sit and suffer, rather loudly, from hypothermia. Although I am fairly certain hypothermia was not yet a part of my vocabulary I'm sure I was thinking some juvenile synonym of hypothermia which currently escapes me.
My dad explained to me that a jacket was a perfect solution to my impeding death by cold because of the heat men. Heat men are the little men that live inside of your body that keep it warm. But the heat men do not simply sit inside your body contentedly keeping it at a pleasant and comfortable temperature. Heat men want to escape and live in the air. They rush around your body looking for avenues of departure. My dad explained to me that if I put on a jacket the heat men that were trying to escape through my arms would get stuck thereby making the jacket warm. Problem 1 solved. He further explained that those heat men would send out the message to other heat men that the arm escape route had been cut off. The rest of the heat men would rush down to my legs looking for an alternate route, and in no time my legs would be nice and toasty. And thus I would not freeze to death. This made sense to me, and I put on a jacket.
My dad insists that he does not remember this conversation, but to this day every time I put on a jacket I imagine little heat men, who look remarkably like little green army men, rushing around my body trying to escape.
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