The Santa Question...

Christmas break is over and it's time to go back to school. The first few days back after a long break are usually quiet in terms of getting sub assignments. The teachers are supposed to be rested and ready to dive back in, while the substitute teacher sleeps in.

So of course, the phone is ringing at 5:30am this morning offering a 2^nd grade assignment at one of the three schools that call me most often. Second graders are fun and eager learners. The post-Christmas excitement of sharing and comparing should make for an easy day...or so I thought.

This was a last minute teacher no-show as there was some kind of medical emergency. Her co-teachers were hurriedly trying to cobble together a lesson plan. Much appreciated by me, as I don't know the classroom routine.

Just to make things more interesting, the office staff informs me that this class has a new 2^nd grader transfer from another school starting today. I scrounge a desk while the office staff delivers a book set and a chair for the kid to occupy.

I introduced the new kid (NK) to the rest of the class and was pleased that the kids were welcoming and helpful getting him situated. NK was quiet at first but his classmates are friendly and I can see he should not have any problems fitting into his new situation. By lunchtime, he has already hooked up with some of the other boys in the class.

The bomb exploded after lunch.

The kids are working quietly on some practice pages when three girls approach my desk to report that NK is telling everybody that Santa Claus isn't real!!

I approach to hear NK in a heated discussion with some of the boys at his table. NK in a calm tone IS telling these guys that "..Santa is just your parents buying stuff" with some of the boys responding a bit louder "You're LYING, I SAW HIM"!

My daughter encountered this problem last year with her own 3rd grader. Paige insisted on knowing the truth. After repeated assurances that she was "really, really ready for the "truth", Paige sadly told her mom later: "I'm going to sleep now and hope I forget everything you just told me"

I escort NK back to the teacher's desk for a quite conversation.

Me:  Dude! What's going on here?

NK:  They think Santa is real. I know he's not.

Me:  Why do you think that?

NK:  I just know. My uncle told me.

Me:  Do you think it's your job to let everyone else "know"

NK: (shrugs shoulders)

Me:  Look! It's not your job to blab stuff you hear from your uncle, so knock it off, ok?

NK:  (shrugs shoulders, and wanders back to his desk muttering...)

NK has upset the class introducing doubt about the "Santa" question as I can hear muted discussion and snatches of "is too...is not" passing back and forth between NK and other students.

"Mr. Homework! NK is lying! Right?

Now, I'm NOT going to tell 2^nd graders that NK is right and Santa isn't real. That's obviously NOT my responsibility and, like I told NK, not my job. But they ARE waiting for a response. Copping out with "ask your parents" isn't much better.

"Look, here's the deal. Santa IS real! But only to children who still believe. He knows when you get older and kind of stop believing. That's when he notifies your parents to let them know that, from now on, it's up to them to help deliver your presents for him." That kind of settled the issue.

After class I saw the principle in the office to let her know about NK and the "Santa issue".

I'm going home now and hope I don't have to deal with any Easter Bunny issues later this year.

Anthem Apathy…

It’s the same starting routine every day. Take attendance, take lunch count, stand up, sing the national anthem, salute the flag, sit down and begin the school day.

Unless exempted due to philosophical or religious reasons, every kid is required to follow the plan. Unless I hear a good reason, every kid is going to at least lip-sync with the rest of the class the salute and anthem.

Almost every class has a clown that likes to go against the flow and act up during the song or salute. All it usually takes from me is a hard stare from my location at the front of the room to get the clown back into sync with the rest of the class. If that doesn’t work, a hand gesture (no, not that one) usually gets the point across. But sometimes I need to escalate the situation to get my point across.

So it was with one 5th grade boy this last week of school.

The stare was enough to get him to stand with the rest of the class but executed with the vacant stare of defiance.

The escalation gesture step was noticed by everyone around him but had no affect on “mute boy”. A second silent request to get with the program was met with a blank expression.

My final “persuasion” technique was to walk over and stand directly behind him and sing the anthem as loud as I could. The other kids were starting to crack up and even the clown was trying not to break character. He ultimately gave in and completed the anthem with the rest of the class.

The next day, all it took to get the clown into gear at anthem time was to walk over and stand behind him while he sang with the rest of the class. In the afternoon, the class attended a school-wide spirit rally in the front of the school. The kids are grouped around the flag pole, school mascot, and principal with featured cheer leaders. The rally, of course, opens with the flag salute and singing of the national anthem.

At the start of the anthem, clown boy leaves his class group to come stand in front of me at the back of the crowd to sing the anthem.

A clown with an attitude is one thing but a clown with a sense of humor is ok by me.

Do You Know About Girls?

I’m in the last week of the current school year subbing in a 4th/5th combo class. I’m riding herd on 28 kids with no lessons being given. Indoor movies or outside field games dominate the lesson plans for this final week.

During one outside activity with three other classes, one 4th grader boy from a different class comes up and asks: “Do you know about girls?”

I’m pretty sure I misheard his request and asked him to repeat the question. I’m not sure why he’s asking me about this subject. Maybe I’m the oldest adult he knows at school and figures age wise, I might be the best source of “girl information”.

There are a lot of potentially problematic mine fields with a loaded question like that but until I know more…

K4: Do you know about girls?
Me: Uhhh. I know some things. What specifically do you want to know?
(If it’s what I think, he’s going to have to ask ‘Mom or Dad’ or wait till they cover that next year in health class.)

K4: About dancing…
Me: Ok, What about dancing?

K4: I’m supposed to dance with a girl.
Me: …and?

K4: Do you know how to ‘Tango’?
Me: Actually, no. Does your Mom know how to ‘Tango’?

K4: Yea, she does.
Me: I suggest you talk to Mom when you get home. I'm sure she'll help you out.

(Whew!)

No Pee in the Soap Dispenser…

Crisis of the day:
Three of my 5th grade girls came running back to the classroom after the start of recess. “Mr. Homework, Mr. Homework! Someone peed in the soap dispenser in the girl’s bathroom!”

This was a first. While I don’t know the soap situation in the girls’ bathroom, I know the dispensers are mounted on the wall above the sinks in the boys’ room. I couldn’t even imagine, if it WAS true, just how someone could have managed to accomplish such a physical feat.

Me: How do you KNOW it’s pee in the soap dispenser?
Girls: It’s supposed to be pink soap and it’s all orangey, yellow and icky!

Me: Maybe custodian just filled it with different color soap today.
Girls: No, no, no, come see!

Well, I’m not venturing into the girls room for soap viewing, so instead I notified the school office and reported the “pee in the soap dispenser” situation.

Result? Due to swine flu precautions, the school district is requiring all the soap dispensers to be filled with anti-bacterial (anti-viral?) soap. Why it had to be pee yellow, I don’t know but…

There is NO pee in the soap dispensers!

Independent STAR Test Thinking…

California STAR (Standardized Testing and Reporting) testing is in full swing this week. Three days of the five assignment in 3rd grade, had me doing STAR testing for Math and Language Arts .

The test questions are all multiple choice. Everyone knows how to use a #2 pencil to fill in the circle next to the answer selected.

Even so, my job was to read a script, as written, about identifying the list of possible answers to the questions provided and directing the proper handling of the provided #2 pencil to completely fill in the circle bubble next to the desired answer.

This same “fill in the bubble” instruction was repeated at the start of each of the three sections of the test I proctored. I was also instructed to make sure that every question in every booklet had at least one selected answer properly #2 penciled.

What the STAR test instructions didn’t tell me (or maybe it did but I missed it) is what to do with the “independent thinkers” in class.

You know, the student who might:

• Carefully draw a line through each of the test provided multiple choice answers and write in “None of these answers” above the list.

• Carefully mark an answer she added to the list of provided possible answers that included an amazingly proper sized circle bubble to mark.

In both cases, I exercised a common sense interpretation of the rules and instructed them to choose only from the provided test answers listed and erase anything they added to the test booklet.

(…I’m expecting to be hauled away in handcuffs by the STAR police as soon as this confession hits the blogosphere.)

Nose Hair and Ear Wax…

One of the more annoying situations a substitute teacher has to deal with is the constant tattling in the lower grades. The serious stuff we DO have to come down hard on, but the petty stuff really drives me to distraction.

I’m in my second day of a five day assignment when one 3rd grade boy confronts me with an intense attitude and seriously troubled look. He’s tattling about another kid who called him a name. The suspect in question was only three paces behind and chiming in that the first kid had shoved him.

My usual tactic in these situations is to deliver a short lecture about proper behavior at school and have them say “sorry” while shaking hands.

This time I decided to do something different.

Guys! I don’t know who did what first and I’m not going to try and find out. What I CAN do is put both your names on my report for your teacher and let him sort it out when he gets back or...we can settle this in a different way. You decide what you want me to do.

They both decided that “different” was the choice they wanted.
“Ok guys, here’s the deal. From now to the end of the school year you are best friends!”

(…both glaring at each other but not saying a word)

And as best friends, I’m going to give you nicknames to use when talking to each other.

(…both now looking at me with a suspicious look)

Pointing to the first kid I said: From now on your nickname is “NoseHair” and your nickname, pointing to the second kid, is “EarWax”. Now shake hands and apologize to each other using your new names.

Kid1: I’m sorry, EarWa…
(He couldn’t finish because he was laughing.)

Kid2: I’m sorry too, NoseHair!
(He was trying REAL hard not to laugh.)

They then ran off laughing.

Seemingly, whatever problems they originally had with each other appeared forgotten. If it lasts to the end of the year that's great. If not, at least they won't be bugging me again for the rest of the week.

Mrs. HOMEWORK?…

As most seasoned readers of this blog know, I use the alias “Mr. HOMEWORK” at the schools I substitute. It works for me as part of an accidentally discovered classroom management technique.

If I tell the kids to call me “MR. HOMEWORK!!” it plants a subconscious seed that misbehavior in class might result in extra work at home. Works for me!

So imagine my surprise, Monday, when some the kids came running up as I was unlocking the door to tell me: “Guess what? Mrs. Homework was here last week!”

Knowing that my wife isn’t in the subbing business and has absolutely no desire EVER to do so, I assured them that they must have been mistaken. I didn’t even know how they would have recognized her since she’s never been near any of the local schools since I started subbing.

“No, no! We had a sub last week and she said we should call her Mrs. Homework!” They then ran off, without disclosing any further details.

Well, that IS an interesting development. Maybe we’ll encounter each other some day on campus and I can uncover the back story to the mysterious “Mrs. Homework”. If it happens, I'll let you know.

Math as a Foreign Language …

My high school required at least one year of a foreign language for graduation.

I don’t have the gift for foreign languages and being that at least half of the student population in my school spoke fluent Spanish, I figured that I’d never be able to beat the bell curve going that route. Instead I chose French figuring that I had at least an “average” chance of pulling a middle of the road score.

I received a final grade of “D” for my efforts.

While I lacked any talent in the linguistic arts, I was more at home in the logical science of mathematics. The unambiguous rules of geometry, algebra, and trigonometry were more my speed.

So last week I found myself in a 5th grade classroom reviewing the math lesson for the day: Page 453: Area of Parallelograms.

This should be a cinch!

“The area of a parallelogram is the base times its height.”

There you have it. We’re done. How much more simple can it be? Well, as it turned out all I got were a bunch of blank stares and “We don’t get it!” comments.

“Ok, let’s back up for a moment.”

“Everyone knows what the area of a square is (multiply base x height)? Yes!

“Everyone knows what the area of a rectangle is (multiply base x height)? Yes!

“Ok, good.
Now, everyone get out a piece of graph paper and draw a rectangle of 8 squares on the bottom and 5 squares tall. Now, what is the area of that rectangle?”

Most of them responded 40. A few came back with 26.

After explaining the difference between area and perimeter a few more times, I believed that I convinced the “26” crowd that the “area” was, indeed, 40 square units.

I then had them draw a line from the top left corner to any point of the line on the bottom and cut out the resulting triangle as I demonstrated on the doc-camera.

“Ok, now slide your triangle piece to the right until the vertical sides line up. What is the figure now?
Response: “A parallelogram!”

“What is the area of that parallelogram?”
No response.

“Remember, all we did was cut the rectangle into two pieces and move them around. The area of the two pieces is exactly the same as the original rectangle. Got it?

Now, what is the area of the new parallelogram that we made from the old rectangle that is 40 sq units?”

Response: “40?”

Yes, now repeat after me:
“All rectangles and squares are parallelograms. The area of any parallelogram is the base times it’s height.”

They started in working some of the exercises until recess. I could tell by the number of hands up and requests for individual help that at least a third still “didn’t get it”. I just didn’t know how to explain it or demonstrate it more clearly.

Having some of them repeat the mantra while writing down the numbers helped a few but clearly, I wasn’t getting through to everyone.

After recess they were supposed to continue math exercises. I hoped the repeated mantra was still embedded in a few memory cells, so I decided to see.

Me: I have a prize for the first person who can tell me what the area of a parallelogram is!

Kid #1 Response: 40!
Kid #2 Response: 26!

Oy Vey!... (pardon my French)

Classroom Capitulation...

Just when I think I know how to handle a class, along comes a couple of 6th grade classes to let me know I don’t know shit.

I thought yesterday’s class was pretty loud and out of control, but it was just mildly chaotic compared to today’s class. This teacher is new to the school and this was the first time I’ve taken her class.

While I can’t prove it, it seems that the senior teachers take this as an opportunity to stack the deck in terms of offloading the known rebels into a single class as some sort of hazing ritual for the newly arrived educator. I recognized more than a few memorable slackers and instigators as they entered the room.

I accomplished absolutely nothing related to “education” today. It was simply crowd control and I can’t say I was even good at that.

If my experience today is any indication of how it is every day for this teacher, and some of the kids say it is, then it’s no wonder that she came down with (probably) a stress related case of the shingles after only half way through her first new school year.

I have 3rd graders tomorrow...

Freeze Faker…

I subbed a 4th grade class last Wednesday. Mostly good kids with the usual few “characters” in the mix. Nothing out of the ordinary except for…“Freeze Faker”.

The lesson was pretty straight forward, single page worksheet:

"...Read the story and highlight the title in green, highlight explanations in yellow and highlight facts in pink. You can work in table groups"

FF: Do I have to work with my table group?
Me: If you want to work by yourself, go for it!

After a little while, one of the narcs at his table quietly notifies me that FF was doing it all wrong and was now bothering them to copy their work. So I wander over to see what the situation was. I take a peek over FF's shoulder to see that everything, title, explanations and facts on his work sheet are hi-lited in green, where his table mates are making use of all three colors on theirs.

Me: Ok, FF, what's the problem here?
FF: They won't let me copy their papers!

Me: (thinking: WTF??) You said you wanted to do it alone. Why do you want to copy theirs?
FF: Well, I don't know what to do.

Me: I see that you marked everything on your paper in green. Is that what the instructions say?
FF: I don't know.

Me: Were you listening when we read the instructions together?
FF: (no answer)

Me: Well, let's read the instructions again, shall we?

No answer, no movement to pick up the worksheet, he's staring straight ahead across the table and not looking at me.

Me: FF, let's read the instructions together so you know what to do.

No reaction. In fact, he's not moving. No squirming, no fidgeting, no movement at all!

Me: Come on FF, let's go. Pick up the worksheet and let's read together ok?

Nothing!

Other Kid: He's frozen. He does that sometimes. The teacher has to make a loud sound to unfreeze him.

I make a few more unsuccessful attempts to communicate but nothing works. One of the other kids claps his hands and FF looks startled and starts looking around.

Oh, brother! I got kid with one of those weird three-letter acronym-istic, conditions that no one told me about.

Now that he's listening again, I start over in attempting to get him back on track with the lesson at hand. He freezes up on me again. He's holding his hands still as stone, in front of him, just a couple of inches off the table.

I walk around to the other side of the table so we're face to face and I notice something odd. I move a little left and then back a little right, then left again.

Me: You know, FF, it's amazing. Everything is frozen. No reaction whatever.
FF: (no answer)

Me: Nothing moving...except your EYES!! They're following me!
FF: (Slight twitch at the corner of the mouth)

I lean slowly across the table getting nearer and nearer, watching his eyes start to cross as I'm almost nose to nose with FF.

Me: (whispering) You're FAKING, aren't you!
FF: (Busts out laughing)

Rocks in My Pockets!

I knew I shouldn’t have made the call, but subbing assignments have been a little light this month. I had already checked the subbing line a few times Tuesday afternoon and and into the evening without success. I decided to make one last attempt before I went to bed at midnight.

The assignment was for 2nd grade the next morning at 7:30am. Since this assignment wasn’t posted when I checked at 10:00pm, I knew there was a high probably that this was a last minute deal and unless the school requires teachers to plan for such an eventuality (…yes, there ARE a few that do), there is a high probability that I’ll be walking in without a lesson plan.

I stalled for time, by replaying the assignment description while trying to decide if I really wanted to take that chance. The desire for a bump in the paycheck won out and so it was that I arrived at school the next morning 15 minutes late. The sub line hadn’t been updated to this year’s earlier starting schedule.

No lesson plan. Not only that, there were no books in the kids desks either.

No reading or math practice books that I could assign as a time killer. The teacher had ripped all the pages out of all 20 sets of reading and math practice books with the separate piles of each page in file folders that she used to make daily “work packets”.

Unfortunately for me, it looked like she makes these sets of “work packets” only one day in advance. There was evidence that she was out the two previous days and one of the subs had already used the single advanced prepared set on Tuesday. There was none prepared for today.

With no plan, I was unaware that this class “switches” with a different class for science until the teacher I was supposed to switch with asked me what time I wanted to do it. She didn’t quite believe me that I didn’t have any material for a science lesson until she went looking for books in the room.

Finding none, she gave me a text from her class to “read to them”. With her help and a copy of the current bell schedule, I had only a few minutes to get a general plan in place before I was to pick up the kids.

The bell rang for start of class and I went looking to pick up my class in the back playground where I could see classes lining up.

Not finding “my class”, I was told that the 2nd graders line up in the Kinder playground…on the other side of the campus! That item of information would have been handy on a lesson plan.

I’m exhausted by the time the first recess comes. The stacks of worksheets I’m pulling from her folder stash are coming up a couple short when I pass them out, so I have to start pre-counting material before I start handing it out.

The first recess ends, so I went to pick up the kids on the Kinder playground only to discover that the 2nd graders only line up there in morning. Of course, my kids are the only ones left standing in the back playground when I finally get there. That’s another planning item that would have been useful information.

Now, at this point, you may be wondering about the title of this post and what it has to do with pockets and rocks.

Well, the last activity of the day for 2nd graders is P.E. The missing plan should have read, “You will be monitoring the special ed class, while the 2nd graders perform P.E. with Ms. S” but…there was no plan.

I’m watching 1st graders play some form of dodge ball without rules, when I notice one of the special ed aides chasing one particular kid around the blacktop trying to prevent him from eating pieces of gravel he’s finding on the ground.

Trying to help as much as I can, I hold out my hand to have the little rock eater surrender whatever he’s got in his tight little fist. After disgorging several handfuls, he’s modified the game where he just picks up rocks to give me. A couple of times if I’m distracted watching some of the other kids, he just sneaks up behind me and dumps the rocks in my side pants pocket.

The rocks in my pocket will be a reminder about what kind of rocks I must have in my head to pick up another late night substitute assignment.

But...at least it wasn't squirrels!

From one of my granddaughter's favorite shows:

This Test Has All The Answers!

I had a super great class of 4th graders today. The only glitch came during the math assessment test today.

Everyone had their anti-cheating privacy folders up and ready to go for the test. I handed out the test and sat back anticipating a quiet half hour when one hand went up almost immediately. The boy said he must have gotten the teachers answer copy because all the right answers were already circled.

I picked up his test paper and didn’t immediately see any circled answers. While I was trying to figure out just what this kid was talking about, a couple more kids held up their tests and said the same thing.

“We see the answers!”

I picked up those tests and after close examination and angling the exam juuussst right, I could indeed see a faint blue circled outline around the multiple choice answers on the front page. Checking page two of the test, I could make out about half of the answers there also.

Nothing much I could do now but note on my end of day report the problem. I suggested that the kids pretend the answers weren’t already there and “show work” in getting the answer they chose.

It seems that while copier technology is getting better at picking up even the slightest color shades that didn’t show with older machines, the testing standards books haven’t changed with them to make sure the answer sheet isn’t visible when copied.

P.S. One of the girls drew a portrait of me in class holding my clipboard. I thought it was close enough for me use as my blogger “About Me” profile picture. Check it out and tell me what you think.

Five Ws…

They had just returned from the five day Thanksgiving holiday. Monday's very multi-cultural 3rd graders were excited about the upcoming holidays. When it came time for the social studies assignment to write an outline for a newspaper article, they had a worksheet with the famous “Five Ws of Journalism” to fill in.

“What do we write about?”

I’ve always found that it’s much easier to write about something I’m interested in rather than an assigned, boring topic I know little about. Since the lesson plan was a little vague about answers to the kids’ question, I suggested writing about Thanksgiving or the upcoming Christmas holiday. Santa Claus is always a favorite “Who”.

Who is the story about?
What happens?
When is it going to happen?
Where is it happening?
Why is it celebrated?
How is it celebrated?

“We don’t have Christmas. We’re Jewish”

How about Hanukah, then?

“I’m Indian and we don’t do Christmas either. Can I write a story about something else?”

My knowledge of world cultural celebrations is pretty much exhausted so I allowed anyone who didn’t want to do the holiday theme choose something else as long as it followed the “Five Ws” format.

“Indian kid again: I wanna do a story about the Mumbai bombings. I already know the ‘Who’ ”

Fortunately, that’s about the time I noticed that the “News Outline” on the lesson plan was related to the earlier reading lesson on the “First Thanksgiving”. The kids were supposed to pretend to be a reporter attending and reporting on that event.

CTL-ALT-DELETE faulty instruction from the substitute teacher! Reset the topic and get back on a less controversial track.

(…although, the bombing story from a 3rd grader's viewpoint would be more interesting)

Tell Us a Story…

The subbing assignments have been pretty light the last couple of weeks. I subbed only one day last week and a half day so far this week.

Yesterday’s 5th/6th combo class was the half day class. Most of the kids in the class know me from the previous years when I subbed their 2nd, 3rd and 4th grade classrooms so it wasn’t unexpected when they asked me to tell the story about the “bad class” again even though all of them had heard it before.

Instead I told them a story that my daughter told me a couple of days ago about my sweet little granddaughter.

My daughter was doing housework and not really paying attention to what 4yr-old Paige was singing while playing with her toys. But after a while the song finally got her attention because of the monotonous lyric of the tune. Listening closer, she heard my sweet little granddaughter singing to herself a one word tune that sounded something like:

“dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit…”

Astonished, my daughter asked her sweet little girl where she heard that word.

Paige: I dunno…
Mom: Well, it’s not a nice word so let’s not say it anymore, ok?
Paige: ok…

Mom was thinking she must have picked it up at pre-school and had several tot suspects in mind when she remembered something that happened last week.

They were visiting some friends in Boston who have a little boy about the same age as Paige. Near the end of the trip, the “guys” decided to go golfing and take the kids with them.

Knowing full well how Mike is at the Sharks hockey games and probably golfing, she had a new prime suspect. She would be waiting when he got home from work to have a little talk about “acceptable language”.

(P.S. The kids practically fell on the floor laughing when I tried to imitate the song for them)

California Missions Project…

The history of the “California Missions” is taught in every 4th grade elementary class in the district I work. It might even be a requirement in all elementary schools in California.

The teacher left a three page history of the California missions to read. While they read the selections aloud in class, I explained some of the unfamiliar terminology like “adobe” and “blacksmithing”. They were then supposed to complete a six question worksheet for review.

If the 4th graders I had on Friday are any indication, I think it’s a wasted exercise because the comprehension skills of some 4th graders (I mean those in this particular class) seem to be lacking.

While a few seemed to be independently working to complete the worksheet there was a chorus of the rest who didn’t seem to have a clue.

Chorus: What are we supposed to do?
Reply: Read each question and find the answers to each question in the three pages we just read. (I thought it was obvious but you never know…)

Chorus: We don’t get it!
Reply: (exasperated…) “Ok. Let’s all do question #1 together”. I also have to coach them through numbers #2 through #4 but I stop helping on #5. There is NO reason they can’t find #5 on their own.

(click on images if you're blind as a bat like me...)



Chorus: “We can’t find the five things”
Reply: (again, exasperated…) Look on page 42, third paragraph.



Chorus: We can’t find the five things!
Reply: Ok, Let’s ALL re-read the last sentence, out loud, the third paragraph on page 42

As they got to the word blacksmithing, I held up my hand and started counting with fingers as they read each “skill” mentioned.

Chorus: So what are the five things?
Reply: (…standing there with my hand up, open palm out, five fingers spread).

Chorus: Can we color the pictures?
Reply: Sure, why not….

Jugheads…

Yesterday’s 4th grade class was a great group of kids. For their earned free time, they played games like chess and checkers while others played the piano.

What a difference a school year makes. All three 4th grade classes last year were a pain in the ass. I know, because I subbed all of them at least once. This year the same kids, at the 5th grade level, are driving the teachers batty. Needless to say, I try to avoid 5th grade assignments at this particular school.

Every teacher (and substitute teacher) has had or will have a “bad” class if you stick with it long enough. But what about an entire grade level?

I haven’t been subbing long (this is my 5th year), yet this is the second school (different districts) where I’ve experienced the entire “difficult grade level” experience.

Interestingly enough they were 4th graders both times I experienced it but the principal at the previous school said it was that way since her particular group of kids entered Kindergarten. Attempts at breaking up the “core troublemakers” had largely failed. There were just too many of them.

Now I know that not EVERY kid in a “bad” class is a jughead, but I wonder just what the critical ratio of jugheads to “good kids” determines the overall “character” of a class?

Runaway...

Checking in at the school this morning, I was met at the door by the school principal.

Prince: You’re subbing for Ms 6th-grade Teacher this week right?
Me: Uh, yep.

Prince: Did anything unusual happen yesterday in class with “Tony?” (…not his real name)
Me: Not that I can recall. He’s been one of the better behaved kids in class.

Prince: Well, he never made it home last night. His grandma called the police and they are here on the off chance that he’ll show up at school this morning.

Me: The last time I saw him was out the door at dismissal time yesterday.
Prince: Ok, thanks.

Well, it turns out that Tony did arrive at school today to find the principal, two police detectives and his grandma waiting for him. I heard bits and pieces of the story throughout the day, from Tony, kids and other teachers who were questioned by the police and school officials.

He didn’t join the class until just before lunch and then only for about an hour before being called back to the school office for the rest of the day.

It seems that Tony, for some undisclosed reason, didn’t want to go home yesterday and instead went to several different friends’ houses before spending the night at the local park in a culvert drain…according to Tony.

His clothes looked too clean to have been sleeping on the ground all night. I suspect that he spent the night at a friends’ house and didn’t want to “narc” out his buddy. As to why he didn’t want to go home, this kid isn’t talking.

I just hope I don’t see this kid featured on some late night news show some day.

Science Camp…

It’s that time of year again when all the 5th graders at this school are set to go off to Science Camp next week. Ten kids to a cabin for a whole week of fun and hopefully some learning about the environmental science of nature.

The writing assignment for today’s class of 6th graders was to: “Write a letter to a 5th grader about your Science Camp Experience”

Seemed like a pretty straight forward assignment. No additional explanation needed right? Not so with these less than motivated 6th graders. This is the laziest bunch of kids I’ve run into in quite a while and I’ve still got two more days with this bunch.

Whine: “I don’t know any 5th graders!”
Reply: Then address it to: “Dear 5th Grader going to camp”

Whine: “I don’t remember anything about science camp!
Reply: Try and remember or ask your friends what they remember.

Whine: “I don’t get it!”
Reply: (…eye rolling look)

Whine: “Do we hafta?” and “Why do WE hafta do it?”
Reply: Yes and because your teacher said so!

Whine: “How many sentences does it have to be?”
Reply: If you want me to set a minimum limit then I’m going to say fifty! Do you WANT me to set a minimum limit? Na, I didn’t think so.

Whine: “How many paragraphs do we gotta do?”
(See previous reply)

Whine: “What do we write about?”
Reply: Write about what you did, what you liked, what you didn’t like, did anything unusual happen, did you go hiking, swimming, sing songs around a camp fire. Stuff like that!

Whine: “I didn’t go to camp last year. Do I still hafta write a letter?”
Reply: Yes! Either ask someone else what they remember or write about how it was to miss going to camp.

Now that I had pretty much covered all “How little can we get away with” questions, most were grudgingly complying with the exception of one wise ass boy.

WA-boy: “You said we could write about anything that happened at camp?”
Reply: Yep…

WA-boy: Well one kid in our cabin was sitting on his bed and playing with himself…
Reply: STOP!

(Everyone stopped)

WA-boy: But it’s TRUE. Just ask…
Reply: Nope, I don’t need to ask! Let’s just keep it to “camp” activities, ok?

My Dad Wants To Talk To You…

The assignment was a 5th grade class at the same “Not Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” elementary school. I was cautioned by their teacher that her kids are really “sweet” but can be difficult in a lack of attention and laziness kind of way.

In reality, they were easy to get along with and responded when I wanted the noise levels to be toned down a bit. This was a much better experience than the 2nd graders earlier in the week. The only howls of protest came at the end of the day when I listed the homework on the whiteboard before dismissal.

-- Reading: 20 minutes

-- Math: one page with maybe 10-15 problems left (we did the first 5 in class) dealing with improper fractions.

-- Any unfinished class work.

Kids: “…But, but, but…teacher promised that we’d NEVER have more than six math problems for homework!…EVER!!”

After checking the lesson plan to make sure I hadn’t misread the homework section for math, I informed them that I had my orders. It didn’t include any restrictions or references to any promises of homework limitations.

After locking up, returning the key to the office and on my way out to the teachers lounge for one last “restroom break”, a voice called “MR. HOMEWORK!” from one huge SUV in the parking lot.

I gave the usual customary wave and smile as I continued to my urgent appointment in the men’s room.

“MR. HOMEWORK! MY DAD WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!”

My urgent restroom break just became more urgent.

Because of the nomadic nature of a substitute teacher, I rarely have any encounters with parents of the kids I see during the day. Even then, it’s mostly dealing with delivery of birthday cup cakes, “Hi, How are ya!” introductions before school or notes to be delivered to the regular teacher tomorrow. Never a “My dad wants to talk to YOU!” encounter.

The guy behind the wheel is HUGE! Sleeveless shirt, tattooed from the shoulder to the wrist on both arms, shaved bald and Fu-Manchu mustache. He didn’t look like a guy I wanted teed off at me, so I resisted the urge to run. Instead I approached the passenger side door and informed “Killer” that I wasn’t Junior’s teacher and that she’d be back tomorrow if he needed to talk to her.

Killer politely said that he, indeed, wanted to talk to me if I had 10 to 15 minutes to spare. He suggested that we could go to the classroom and have a chat if I didn’t need to leave right away.

I bought some time by agreeing to meet with him and his kid in the cafeteria after I finished some business in the teachers lounge. I didn’t elaborate about what kind of “business” that had suddenly become extremely urgent.

I spent the next several minutes trying, among other things, to figure just what Junior told his dad that would warrant the pulverizing of an underpaid substitute teacher. I came up empty so I exited the teacher’s lounge to find the duo resting in the shade of a campus tree.

Instead of the closed classroom (with potential lack of witnesses), I suggested the cafeteria where after school homework session was in full swing.

At a table near the back and away from most of the noise, I re-introduced myself to Killer with my real name instead of “Mr. Homework” and asked what the problem was.

Killer told me his son didn’t understand about some of the homework and he (Junior) wanted some clarification.

“Go ahead, Junior. Ask the man!”

Junior: Ms. Teacher PROMISED that we wouldn’t have any more than six math problems for homework.

Me: So, you’re questioning the “amount” of math homework and not how to do it? Your teacher is the one that listed on the lesson plan what the homework was. If you have a problem with the amount you need to talk with your teacher tomorrow.

KILLER: (to Junior) What? I don’t care about the amount. You told me you didn’t understand!

Junior: Well, I don’t understand it either.
Me: Ok, show me the math page.

He removes from the backpack the math page worksheet on improper fractions. The first five problems we did in class are still blank on his.

Me: Well, do you remember that we did these first five in class? I don’t see anything done here.
Junior: I don’t understand it.

Killer asks me if I could go over a couple of the ones we did in class again with Junior.

After being tagged teamed between me and his dad, Junior works his way through the first three. Killer is satisfied that he can do the rest at home.

Me: Ok, is that all?
Junior: I didn’t understand the grammar (identifying declarative .vs. imperative sentences) worksheet either.
Me: Show me!

Again, Junior removes from the backpack the grammar worksheet and again it’s completely blank.

Me: We went over this in class. We even did the first five as examples. All you had to do was write a “D” next to the “declarative” sentences, an “I” next to the “imperative” sentences and identify the subject of the sentences. Remember?

Junior: (no response).
Me: Let’s go over the first few again.

After the first three examples, Junior concedes that he can finish the rest of the worksheet. Killer, looking on, agrees. Killer thanks me for my time with his kid and had Junior shake my hand as I head to my car alive and un-bruised.

I’m not sure if I violated some school district rule about outside contact with parents and students but I did let the teacher know that it did happen just to cover the bases.

Not Mister Rogers' Neighborhood…

In four years of subbing, I’ve subbed at this school on only three previous occasions. It’s one of the farthest schools in the district from my house. It’s considered one of the more, let’s just say, “troubled” areas of town.

Mister Rogers' neighborhood it’s not. This impression was reinforced in yesterday’s 2nd grade class. The assignment was a Social Studies lesson on the differences between a neighborhood, community and a town.

Suggestion Example: A “neighborhood” is made of families who live next door (neighbors), in the same apartment building, on the same street, or send their kids to the same school. People in the “neighborhood” might get to know each other by having 4th of July BBQ’s, neighborhood cleanup days, football parties or back to school night at the local school.

Prompt: “Ask the kids about activities that happen in their neighborhood”

Here’s the short list, before I cut them off, of some neighborhood “activities” that they experience in their neighborhood: car accidents, robbery, fire in the back yard (arson), stolen car (multiple), car break-ins, car vandalism, car fire (intentional) and two murders.

I tried to steer them back to examples of “positive” activities, but no one came up with anything other than one birthday party “bounce house” that some uninvited neighborhood kids asked to play in.

(This was also one of the toughest assignments, behavior wise, I’ve had in a long time.)