STUDY SESSION (This will definitely be on the test!)

When making a movie, especially a movie involving war scenes led by main characters who are supposed to deliver inspiring speeches right before a pivotal battle, make sure the speech is actually inspiring.

Since I’m a teacher, I’ll use teacher technique to reinforce this concept by offering both good and bad examples.

A. “They may take our lives, but they will never take our freedom!”
William Wallace, played by Mel Gibson in Braveheart, makes this memorable speech as a way of inspiring his men to push beyond their fear. If we die, he tells them, we will have died fighting for something that’s more important than our lives and that will have lasting effects on others after we are gone. Points for the universally inspiring concept, bonus points for delivering a line that others have quoted and parodied countless times since the movie release.

B. “Today is the day that the world declares with one voice that we will not go quietly into the night. Today is the day we celebrate our independence!”
Bill Pullman, playing the President of the United States in Independence Day (one of my all-time favorites), delivers this fabulous speech at Area 51, moments before alien invaders finish off their extermination of the entire human race. Broadcast on the radio to people all over the world after a catastrophic attack on the entire planet, this speech earns points not only for its all-inclusive message to people of every race, but also for its part in a movie that preceded the more well-known blockbusters of recent years, making it a vanguard of both the alien-attack movie genre and the underdogs-in-an-epic-battle-for-their-lives movie genre.

C. “They think they can take whatever they want, but we’ll show them that they can’t just take whatever they want!”
Sam Worthington, playing dual roles as an ex-marine and as a genetically engineered native of Pandora, makes this uninspiring line in Avatar, on which I recently wasted about 3 hours of my life. This line receives only partial credit for emotional delivery, but fails in both inspiration and quotability.

I hope you took notes on that.

Third Week of February -- Part 3 (Isn't this week over yet?)

WEDNESDAY
The writing test rolls on. In other news, our school is doing the Oregon Battle of the Books battles this week. We have 40-some teams competing, and every teacher helps with battles. My teaching partner and I run battles in her room with our combined homeroom classes as the audience. Today one of the groups argued with us whether pancakes and waffles count as the same breakfast food. (Us = 2 different foods, them = the same food so please give us the points.) They lost.


THURSDAY
Oh, what a day I’ve had.

We’re in the midst of the writing test, and I gave my kids the state Guide to Revision again today. At the top, it lists all of the reasons why a student’s paper might not be scored. One of the reasons says, “if it is “borrowed” or plagiarized from another source...” One of my boys raised his hand and asked me who would be grading his paper. I told him it would be graded by other teachers in other parts of the state. He looked kind of worried, and he said, “So… do other teachers know the story of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?” With a sinking feeling in my gut, I answered, “Yes, why?” He said, “So is it bad if I used what happens in the movie in my story?” I said, “Yes, it’s very bad. Your story is supposed to be your own ideas. How much of it did you use?” He said, “Not very much. Only the part about how a kid finds a ticket in a candy bar and then gets to tour a candy factory with his grandpa and a crazy candy guy who wants to give him the factory at the end.” !!!

The worst part was that it took about 5 minutes for me to convince him that, YES, the raters really would recognize that.

In the afternoon, once my kids resumed working on their writing tests, I noticed that one of my students looked kind of out of it. He was rubbing his head and his eyes and kind of wobbling at his desk. I asked if he needed to go to the nurse, and he said yes. He didn’t want anyone to go with him, but he stumbled while walking to the door. I was scared and worried about him; I really thought he was going to pass out. He made it about halfway across the pod before running back to the sink right outside my classroom. In front of the windows into my room, he barfed into the sink for about 5 minutes straight. (He’s a small kid, too, so I don’t know where he was hiding all of that liquid.) My students had front row seats to this show of sickness, and when we finally got the poor boy to the nurse and I got back into my class, they’d pretty much forgotten they were taking a test. Great… there go our scores.


FRIDAY
I was loathe to continue with the writing test, especially after yesterday’s debacle in 6th period. But we soldier manfully on, and several of my kids are finished now. I have an assignment due tonight for my graduate school class (the final assignment, actually), and another teacher came in to spend over an hour talking with me after school today. It was a fun conversation, but I also have a lot of work to do! I’m supposed to be at home tonight with my dogs while Mr. Chandler plays in a staff-vs.-student basketball game at his school. I’m really looking forward to this weekend – no graduate school homework, no middle school homework or prep, no reason to clean (so no cleaning), and lots of sunshine. I’m definitely feeling the effects of spring fever at this point. How long until spring break?

Third Week of February -- A Mid-Week Rant

TUESDAY
We interrupt this week's post for a rant session. If you are not interested in hearing Mrs. Chandler rant about her co-workers and the writing test, please skip to Wednesday.


I don’t do last minute. Seriously, I don’t. I’ve even been known to get a little hostile at the suggestion. Take this morning… We started the writing test this morning. In my preparations for this test, I moved my furniture around, positioning dictionaries, notebook paper and Kleenex in three convenient locations around the classroom. I made copies of the transition list, the spelling dictionary, and the guide to revision, as I was supposed to. I sharpened 3 boxes of pencils, and set out Wite-Out, pens, and erasers with them. I had already read over the test administration instructions and my scripted directions to the students. I had a sign ready for my door (We’re testing! Do not disturb!), I checked on immunization exclusions to make sure none of my kids were affected, and I’d already verified with the safety committee that there would be no fire drills during the writing test. (Yes, there are people who really are that stupid.) I was ready!

In fact, I was getting ready for a different event when another teacher came in to talk to me this morning. She showed up at 8 a.m. as I was headed to pod duty, with students already in my room. She started picking up some of my prepared copies and questioning them, saying she didn’t think they were allowed on the test. She questioned a poster of lines that hangs in my room, saying that wasn’t allowed either. Then she said the principal would be very uncomfortable with the fact that the transitions on my transition list were in boxes. She told me I needed to recopy them without the lines or boxes, but then said she was going to take a copy to one of the other 7th grade teachers because “everyone needs to use the same thing.” (This is not true, actually, as anyone who has read the test administration manual would know.) When I told her that we don’t all have to use the same thing, she said the others deserved to have whatever I’m using. “Don’t you think they’ll want it too?” she said. I replied that if they wanted what I use, they could have had it a month ago when we discussed all of this. She told me I should just take class time to make new copies without lines, and then make copies for the other teachers. I laughed at her and said, “I don’t do last minute.”

At that point, I became aware that there were students in my room listening to the entire conversation. In fact, I missed whatever this teacher said next because a couple of my students started laughing. I turned around to look at them, and they had the grace to look sheepish. They were obviously watching my conversation with her, and when I repeated my statement that I don’t do last minute, they laughed again. They were listening to us and laughing! I gave them a weird, “what are you laughing at” look, and one of them spoke up and said, “That’s true. Mrs. Chandler always has a plan. She doesn’t do anything at the last minute.” And they all nodded in agreement. The other teacher seemed flustered by this, and when a student asked me a question, she simply turned around and left.

I managed to put my irritation aside in order to get my students started on the test for the rest of the day, but I’m still irked by the entire encounter. Why do people assume that I don't know or abide by the rules? I've proctored this test for SEVEN YEARS now. Why do people assume that I don’t have my stuff ready or my lessons planned or my preparations done? Why do they assume that I can “drop everything” (because they assume there’s nothing to drop) to do what they want me to do? I don’t teach based on whims, and I don’t plan my lessons the day OF. I hardly ever make copies the morning I need them (because I hate that and because there’s usually a line, and I don’t believe in standing in lines). I’m offended at the unspoken assumptions here – that I don’t know the rules and that I still need to prepare things. I am professional. I am prepared. I don’t do last minute. Now leave me alone and let me do my job!

I need a chill pill.
This concludes the mid-week rant session. And now, back to our regularly-scheduled program.

Third Week of February -- Part 1

MONDAY
Resolution Report: I’m doing well on the school days, but the non-school days have me Starbucks-bound. Perhaps I need to expand the regulations of my resolution.

Hurray for Presidents Day! We went to see The Lightning Thief this afternoon. It was interesting, but unfortunate. Obviously they have to make some cuts or changes in order to fit a 170-page novel into a 110-minute movie, but they apparently decided which parts to cut without actually reading the book. The entire quest changed, the persons responsible for the quest changed, and the end of the movie has nothing to do with the end of the book! They completely altered it. As I said, very unfortunate. On the bright side, during the previews we found out that they are making a movie out of Diary of a Wimpy Kid, and it looks much more well done. In fact, it looks hilarious. Now I have something to look forward to for June. If only I could get my hands on an advertising poster for it, then my kids would finally think I was cool…

Second Week of February

SUNDAY
Was supposed to have a sewing party with friend… Instead ended up wrapped up in blankets with Kleenex and orange juice handy, watching Super Bowl commercials and playing on my iPod. Interrupted occasionally by brother-in-law wanting to know correct format for reference citations in APA style. I don’t believe in APA style, but I helped him out anyway. (Me = strange collection of useless English teacher-type info.) Super Bowl was depressing; apparently I am the only person within 20 miles rooting for the Colts. Will drown my sorrows in an episode of “Foyle’s War” on Mystery.


MONDAY
Resolution Report: I was quite successful last week – no Starbucks stops on ANY mornings. Classroom Coffee Maker and I are getting along just fine, although I confess to feeling a bit of boredom in that relationship. There were mornings this week on which I desperately felt the need to spice things up… I fear Coffee Maker does not share my need for things to be new and interesting.

I used my SSR (silent sustained reading) time in ESP class to proofread my brother-in-law’s 7-page term paper on the pathophysiology, diagnosis, and treatment of thoracic aortic dissection. (I didn’t know pathophysiology was a real word!) I keep telling Mr. Chandler that his brother is the most functional person in his family, but I don’t think he really believed me until I showed him the term paper.

Mr. Chandler’s brother is finishing up his paramedic program and is ready to start his clinicals. He works in the emergency room at Providence St. Vincent in Beaverton, and when he had the chance to apply for a better job elsewhere, he chose not to because he valued the emergency room experience, in spite of the crazy hours and minimal pay. He is incredibly self-motivated. He dropped out of high school because it was stupid (no, seriously), but finished high school at a local community college and graduated (with a diploma, not a GED) earlier than he would have if he’d remained at David Douglas. He married his high school sweetheart and got out of his crazy family as quickly as he possibly could, but manages to remain on good terms with them – from a safe distance. His term paper is due in May, and he wants to turn it in next week – to “get it out of the way.” (What word means “the opposite of procrastination”?) The term paper is well-written and full of medical information that I had no idea he knew, explained in ways of which I didn’t realize he was capable. He’s an amazing guy, as evidenced by the fact that I spent an entire day’s blog entry talking about him. (What word means “the opposite of Mrs. Chandler ranting”?)


TUESDAY
So the 7th grade state writing test is next week. For the past 6 years, I’ve spent this week of February panicking, stressing, worrying, etc. This year, in addition to worrying about the test and my students’ performance on said test, I have the added stress of being in a new school where they CARE about the test scores. (Seriously. They really, really care.) Now, in my previous school, I had to go to great lengths to make sure that the test went smoothly. I reminded the staff, posted signs in the hall, locked my door during testing, worked with administrators to test kids who were about to be suspended before they had to leave school, worked with the nursing assistant to test kids who were about to be excluded from school for not having their immunizations, reminded the staff again, threw fits when people scheduled field trips during the test, and so on… Today, I sat in the staff meeting and wondered whether I should say something about the test being next week. The principal finally mentioned it, but no one really paid attention. I was also worried about the immunization exclusion problem and about getting the tests BEFORE the test was actually supposed to start. When I spoke to the testing coordinator and the principal after the meeting, I was pleasantly surprised. Before I could even ask, the testing coordinator told me I would get the tests the day before. When I mentioned the immunization exclusion date, the principal said he’d already checked with the nurse and talked with the parents of the few 7th graders on it. When I finally picked my jaw up off the ground, I said, “You guys have to stop this, or I’m not going to have anything to stress about.”

Now I’m just stressing about meeting the expectations of this school. I have no doubt that the scores from this year will be the best any of MY students have ever received. What worries me is that my scores will be compared to the scores of the two other 7th grade teachers in the building, as well as to the scores from previous years at this school. On one hand, I’m terrified. On the other hand, I keep thinking that there’s no way my scores could be as bad as the other 7th grade teachers, especially since I’ve done more writing instruction than the other two have. Then I swing back to being terrified because it doesn’t matter if my scores are better than theirs if ALL of our scores are lower… Good grief. Now I’m going to have a confused panic attack.


WEDNESDAY
Midway through first period today, I felt like my battery was drained of its last drop of energy. I had serious concerns about driving home. (Have you ever tried to drive when you’re running a fever and have zero strength?) I hate the timing of this, although it’s better than getting sick next week during the writing test, I guess. I’m going home to collapse.

THURSDAY
I have this wretched sense of déjà vu. Didn’t we do this whole sick thing last month?

FRIDAY
I’m back at school today – mostly because I have to be. Today in homeroom, my students were making fun of me because I have some catch phrases that I use all the time, and now they can all quote me. “I don’t believe in that” is one of my catch phrases. I use it for things like saying no when a student asks to leave without a hall pass (usually because the forgotten pass was left in a locker). Frequently I forget to read the morning announcements to my homeroom, so when kids ask, I’ve started saying, “No, I don’t believe in that.” (Secretly, I do believe in it. I'm just a flake.) Today, one of my kids turned to another (who had just asked a question) and said, “She doesn’t believe in that.” Another kid immediately added, “Yeah, like she doesn’t believe in standing in lines.”

Now, I wanted to object on the grounds that I shouldn’t be mocked for that. When I use that phrase, I’m only trying to be funny. But in the seconds immediately following these comments (in which I was trying desperately to come up with a snappy comeback), I realized that it’s actually true. I don’t believe in standing in lines. I don’t mind sitting in line or sitting and waiting my turn, but if I have to stand with other people, I’ll just skip it or I’ll stay in my spot until the line is almost nonexistent before walking up to take my turn. This prompted me to think about my rather unique belief system, which includes things like:

I don’t believe in OnStar (don’t even get me started!).
I don’t believe in Nicholas Sparks books/movies (because life is not depressing enough already?).
I believe in dogs.
I don’t believe in Survivor. I never have.
I believe that MTV is the unacknowledged creator of the modern reality TV show. (Hello, Road Rules was on back when I was in high school!)
I don’t believe in CSI anymore – too gory and graphic for me. But apparently now I believe in NCIS. (I know, it was a surprise to me too.)
I’ve NEVER believed in Family Guy.
I believe in soy, but not tofu. (That’s mostly because I don’t know what it is. I wonder if it’s actually soy…? That might rock my entire belief system.)
I don’t believe in family reunions or class reunions.
I believe in rodeo, but Portland doesn’t…
I don’t believe in wearing jeans on school days.

That’s as far as I got before I realized that my class was staring at me. They were probably waiting for me to deliver the expected snappy comeback, while I was lost in my own little world. Fortunately, they’re used to me making a fool of myself.

At Least I Have My Health

I feel like I’m hanging on by a thread here… I push through my days and go home to collapse, hoping that a little extra sleep will boost my immune system enough to get me through the next day. I picture my immunity/health/whatever like the charging screen on my iPod: the green juice increases inside the battery as it charges. My health is the green juice inside the battery, and my week requires me to operate away from the charger all day. Then I have to go home and try to recharge enough to make it through the next day without hitting the red zone towards the bottom of the battery. When I hit the red zone, I get sick. It’s a delicate balance – trying not to use up too much battery power, while attempting to live through a normal week. I have abandoned hope of ever feeling fully charged (at least until June), and instead try to recharge enough to make it through the next day. And yet, as the week goes on, my days drain more and more battery juice, and my charger gives less and less back...

I have become quite savvy at predicting the timeline of the downfall of my health. (This, of course, only serves to stress me out more.) I'm looking at a total system failure in the near future. If you remember from a previous post, the universe hates me ("First Week of February" -- Murphy's Law). So I'm guessing my total system failure will occur just as my students are about to start their big state test.

First Week of February

MONDAY
Resolution Report: I’m back on track! After a couple detours last week (Monday and Thursday), I’ve gotten re-acquainted with my classroom coffee maker. I even bought some good coffee this weekend.


TUESDAY
I love Tuesdays and Thursdays in ESP (homeroom). We are doing a Read Aloud of Zen and the Art of Faking It by Jordan Sonnenblick. It’s about a kid who reinvents himself when he moves to a new state/town/school. The narrator of the book is a middle school boy with a very funny, sarcastic voice that is entertaining for me to read. I hope the kids think it’s funny. I know they’re surprised sometimes to hear Mrs. Chandler’s voice reading about the hot girl at the library help desk or how lame the English teacher is. I think it’s hilarious. Sometimes I feel inspired to do separate voices for the characters… This is a really bad idea for me because by Thursday I will totally forget what sort of voice I used for each person on Tuesday. I think the story would make an entertaining movie, but it would be challenging to convey the richness of the narration in film. Maybe I’ll work on that. You know… in all my spare time.


WEDNESDAY
The acting superintendent of our school district has chosen today to visit our school. On the surface, I have no problem with this; she’s always been very nice to me. She’s been in my classroom before (for a few minutes each time), and once I even got her to quiz a couple students to help them review for a vocabulary quiz. If this goes like the previous superintendent’s visit in the fall, the principal will probably walk her around to every single classroom, for about 3 minutes each. It’s nothing to be nervous about… So why am I so anxious about this?


MURPHY’S LAW
I seem to have this “Murphy’s Law” thing going this year. (Murphy’s Law Mini-Lesson: “Everything that CAN go wrong WILL go wrong.”) In my case, I suffer from a distasteful variation of this law: “Anything remotely unpleasant that CAN happen to me WILL happen to me.”
You doubt? A few examples: On the last day of school before winter break, I should have been celebrating. But my mother chose that day – of all days – to send me a letter explaining all the ways that I’m a horrible person. (Side note for skeptics who don't believe the timing was on purpose: I have received nasty letters or emails or phone calls from my mother on the last day of school before winter break AND on the last day of school before spring break for the last three years in a row. Coincidence? I think not.) My very first time EVER being called for jury duty was this September, and mine was the first name called in the jury room, the first name called in the courtroom for seating – from a supposedly randomized list – and the first name called when they announced the chosen jury members. Of course it was. When the previous superintendent visited this fall, he and my principal walked in while I was doing a little dance with a poster. (Never mind why… The point here is my mortification and their unbelievably unfortunate timing.)

The newest superintendent is visiting our school today, and I’m supposed to be teaching my students about one of the most controversial world religions. It does not bode well for me…


STILL WEDNESDAY
Good grief. So the superintendent walked in while my kids were silent reading. We were just about to move on, so I gave instructions about what they needed for the next activity… and instead of being the well-behaved students who make transitions quickly and quietly like they normally are, they all started talking to each other! The principal did NOT accompany the superintendent (unfortunately for me, as this would actually have kept my kids quiet). She did not get to see me giving any direct content instruction. She did not see my kids writing. She saw them at their worst, and then she left. Why does the universe hate me?


THURSDAY
I let my students work in groups today. I hate this… I’m such a control freak in the classroom, and they just sit around and chat about the latest 7th grade drama. (They’re 12! How could they have that much drama already?) But I went ahead and let them work in groups. In each of my three classes, I had one or two groups that were off-task. The rest did very well. In one of my classes, I went to the two noisy groups and I pointed out that all of the noise in the classroom was coming from only those two groups. They were appalled and quieted down… for about 2 minutes. Seventh graders have the attention span of a gnat.


FRIDAY
The current district scuttlebutt is that we have $1,000,000 to spend on professional development by the end of August. I just don’t understand this. How can we randomly find millions of dollars lying around (again), and how can it only be spent on professional development (again)? For those of you who aren’t in the education field, professional development is a fancy term for inservice meetings. That’s right; we have one million dollars to spend on meetings. It’s like all of the people in charge of district money went to the same training and were told to hide their money in a sock – and then forgot which sock it was in. Never mind sound accounting practices; accounting is for weenies who actually want to keep track of their money. We don't believe in that stuff, apparently.

I have to stop talking about this. This is going to be one of those things that I can’t talk about because it makes me too angry and I’ll start ranting about it – like OnStar. (Stupid government spying on us through stupid OnStar in our stupid cars...)

POP QUIZ: What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?

I’m not actually going to tell you the answer… It’s just an excuse to explain the whole “pop quiz” thing. I use the phrase “pop quiz” in my classroom when I quote movie lines to my students. In Mrs-Chandler-speak, it means “What movie is that line from?”

Example: Today in class I said “Hurray for the carbonated life forms!” …and followed it with “pop quiz.” Then a few students tried to guess what movie it was from. (The answer is Jimmy Neutron.)

I actually got the phrase “pop quiz” itself from a movie. But if I quoted the whole line, you’d immediately know which movie, and where's the fun in that?

Fourth Week of January

MONDAY
Resolution Report: Um… well, I went in to buy a new travel mug, and a didn’t have access to my classroom coffee maker, so… It doesn’t really count, right? I still haven’t made any SCHOOL DAY morning Starbucks stops. (I had a sub and spent the day at meetings.) Argh. I'm not going to beat myself up over this; I'm just going to start fresh tomorrow. So there.


TUESDAY
So I keep writing little sticky notes to myself and putting them on the nice white space on my computer monitor (about 4” tall by 12” wide – thanks, Mac). For reasons known only to my subconscious, sometimes I write on the sticky note so that the sticky part is on the side, and sometimes I write on them properly so the sticky part is on the top. Now I have this weird little sticky note forest on my computer. I can't see what's on them any more, but that's not what really bothers me. What really bothers me is that I keep trying to get them to stay flat against the computer, and they keep flapping out again. *sigh* I can’t see the trees for the forest.


WEDNESDAY
What a crazy day. It was the last day of the quarter, but no one seemed all that concerned. (I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.) My head is like one giant to-do list. I’m pretty sure it’s about to explode, and the shrapnel pieces will be scraps of sticky note with my scribbled reminders on them. Tonight, I plan to stay up late reading my book and NOT working on grades. (Oh dear… This might make my resolution more difficult to keep.)


THURSDAY
Good grief. I remembered why I hate inservices so much. We spent the first 2 hours acting out situations from a hand-out. (We are adults with college degrees… we couldn’t just read and discuss?!!) My team’s part was frighteningly short, and if I was doing this again (which I probably never will), I would have tried to give a LOT more explanation.

I am fascinated by the way that teachers behave at inservices. We really do make the worst students. At every inservice, there seems to be someone who feel free to make snarky comments or sarcastic remarks about whatever is being presented (or who is presenting it), but becomes filled with righteous judgment and disapproval if anyone else around them does the same thing. I’m not opposed to snarky, sarcastic comments about the presentation, but at least allow the people who have to listen to you the same freedom. My favorite way to listen to an inservice is to write on sticky notes and stick them in front of the person next to me. (This worked better when I actually knew the people at my school.)

Resolution Report: It’s just one morning, and I did NOT have access to my classroom coffee maker today. Also, I had to sit through an inservice. Also, I was really tired because I stayed up too late the night before. Don’t judge me…


FRIDAY
Today, I had the easiest teacher-discipline meeting of my entire union career. We were done in ten minutes, and at least 4 of those minutes were spent making small talk. The real part of the meeting went something like this... (Objects have been changed to protect anonymity.)

“A student reported that you threw an eraser in his general direction. Did you do that?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Okay, we can’t have you doing that; it’s dangerous. You accidentally hit the side of the kid’s head. Did you mean to hit him?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I know you didn't. He said that you had really bad aim, so he knew you didn’t mean to hit him. From now on, no eraser throwing, okay?”
“Okay. I won’t do that again.”
“I know you won’t. I’m taking notes on this meeting right now so that if a parent calls to complain about the incident, I can prove that we talked to you about it already. Thanks for coming in today.”

Why can’t they all be like that? There was hardly anything for me to take notes on. I could put the notes from this meeting on a sticky note. (And add it to the sticky-note forest on my computer… okay, maybe not.)