You're Not in Sixth Grade Anymore

At my previous school, I attempted to cultivate an image as a strict teacher. I encouraged my students to make comments about me to the 6th graders, and my 6th grade colleagues joined in as well with comments like, "Oh, Mrs. Chandler is really strict. You can't do that in her class next year." From a behavior management standpoint, this worked quite well for me. The students would come into my class as 7th graders prepped to follow a lot of rules from a really strict teacher. It was almost a shock to some of them when I turned out to be a little fun as well.

This year, quite by accident, I have developed a completely different reputation. I still operate with all of the same classroom rules that I had at my previous school, and I'm still just as kooky in the classroom as I have ever been. But I am not known for this. Apparently I am known for being a more academically rigorous teacher. My students don't necessarily know this unless they've been talking to students from other teams. But I heard 6th grade students talking about next year and advising other students that they should try to get into the upstairs team because "the downstairs team makes you work harder." I gained several students from another team this year, and a few of them like to remind me that they did not have me last year. Whenever I bring up concepts we covered in 7th grade, one of them will say, "We had [this other teacher] last year, remember? We didn't learn that." (I had to have a little chat with one of them because he started the year by saying, "[This other teacher] didn't teach us anything last year. We just colored maps." So now we've changed it to sound less like a deficiency and more like a choice on the part of the teacher. Not that a deficiency isn't also a choice on the part of the teacher--because it is--but that's a topic for another time.) At any rate, I feel more strongly than ever that my mission of preparing my students for high school is vitally important, especially when I hear what they do NOT know. So I push them academically, and this inevitably leads to quite a bit of homework for them.

My last post received a comment from Swanie Boy, who I happen to know is a middle school student himself. I was not surprised that he was amused by my students' lack of attention. Oh, yes, I've heard stories about you, Swanie Boy. I've heard stories. And now let me tell you a little story that will probably make your middle school blood run cold...

My 6th grade teacher friend came to laugh with me about a student assistant of hers who I have in LA/SS class. Yesterday, with the ominous-sounding snow forecast looming and the potential for a snow day today stirring through the school and making it impossible for students and teachers alike to concentrate, I shifted some things around in my plans and managed to send my students home with an assignment that I would normally have reserved for a weekend. My teacher friend said her student assistant was bemoaning the fact that I had given them extra homework just in case there was a snow day -- quite loudly, in front of the 6th grade students. My teacher friend said her students' faces showed their worry and fear when she told them, "That's right, and that's who you will all have next year."

Hey, Swanie Boy, why don't I send Mr. Chandler to school tomorrow with some extra homework for you?

So Much For That

We’ve been reading this novel in language arts, and today my students were supposed to pull out one significant thing from the story and explain why it’s important in the book and how it relates to their own lives. I explained that they could pick something one of the characters said in the book (quote), something one of the characters actually did in the book (action), or something that happened to the characters (event). My first class seemed to struggle with what to choose, so I went further and told them to think about the stuff that I made a big deal about while we were reading the book together. I figured this was a good way to work in a little self-depracation while jogging their memories, and it worked. One of my students raised his hand and said, “You mean like when you stop the reading to ask a bunch of questions about what just happened?” This was exactly what I meant, and the rest of the class started volunteering things that I had apparently pointed out during the reading.

This worked so well that I used the same explanation again in my other two classes. My second class did well, like the first, and came up with several ideas. It was my last class that presented the problem. I went through my explanation, and when they gave me the usual blank looks, I used the same line about ideas from the book that I made a big deal of when we were reading. As I looked out at my class, I could see that there were no light bulbs going on, no “ah has” happening. So I used what the student in my first class had said to try to help them – “You know, when I stop the reading to ask you a bunch of questions about what just happened?” I could see some recognition in a few faces, and I thought maybe they were finally getting it. Then the student who typically sits closest to me during class said, in a loud and soul-crushing manner, “Wait… You mean we were supposed to be paying attention to you when you do that?”

*Before posting this, I went back and read my previous post in which my students actually remembered things I'd taught them. Argh... It makes this post even more aggravating (hence the title).

Reading Rainbow

We started a book in language arts at the end of October, and we’ve been deconstructing some interesting pieces of it. I made the students highlight every color word on copies of the first four chapters (red, green, turquoise, etc.), and we’ve been keeping track of the sensory details the author uses to describe the setting. The students have come up with some interesting insights, and I always like it when they draw conclusions that I haven’t heard before. We tracked all of the scent and sound words in one chapter and then made a chart for each of them, and the students noticed immediately that there were far more sound words than scent words. I asked them why they thought that was, and they decided it was because of the setting. The book is set in the Cholistan desert of Pakistan, close to India, and the setting details make it clear that this truly is life in the harsh desert. So when we got to the scent and sound words, the kids concluded that the author was being real with people about the setting since the desert is a harsh environment in which the wind would probably blow away most of the scents that we’re used to. They pointed out that sand doesn’t really smell and might absorb other smells, but that the desert could still be full of sounds that would carry – blowing sand on sand, people shuffling their feet in the sand, camel sounds, etc. I don’t know how scientifically accurate we were being, but I LOVED how deeply they were thinking about this.

We also used the color words on a mood chart. The students kept track of how many color words were used on a given page, and we recorded them on a poster chart. (If you’re not familiar with poster chart paper, then you are either not a teacher or not an Office Depot junkie. I am both, and, as such, I use poster charts profusely.) Then I hid the chart for a day so that they’d sort of forget about it – which, of course, they did (because who needs to remember what colors are used in a school book when there is middle school gossip to listen to?). Then we assigned mood words to each page in that chapter. The students chose the mood words themselves, and they did a good job with it. (No surprise there… Who better to interpret moods than a bunch of moody adolescents?) Then we made another poster chart for the mood words. Finally, I pulled out the color chart and put the two charts side by side. The students themselves immediately noticed the trend – the author uses lots of colors when the mood is positive, but drops all the color words when the mood turns negative.

The high school English teacher in me (which is what I was in my former, non-middle-school life) loved these conversations and the in-depth literature analysis. I adore literature analysis! I’m not sure the students adore it, but they tolerated it well enough. And I heard them joking about the color of their moods in the hallway later that day. One girl actually turned around to another and said, “I feel rainbow today.” And the boy at the locker next to her replied, “Oh, lots of colors means you’re happy.” (Okay, I know we need to talk about how literature is not necessarily reality, but at least they’re paying attention!)

Does Our Insurance Cover Personality Transplants?

Ack… This is still upsetting to me. I have no idea how this happened, but Big Dog did something weird and painful to his back this morning and ended up in horrible pain, all twisted and crumply on the bed. I can’t stand it when my dogs are in pain; it absolutely rips my heart out. The punch line of this story is actually funny, but in order to understand the incredulity we felt upon hearing that punch line, you have to know how upsetting and traumatic our morning was. So Big Dog was quivering in a crumply heap, with a racing heartbeat and shallow breathing. Mr. Chandler immediately called the vet, and – miraculously – they were open this morning. He took Big Dog to the vet, where they pumped the dog full of painkillers and sedatives in order to examine and X-ray him. The vet said they thought Big Dog had ruptured the cushion (cartilage?) between some of his lower back vertebrae. It sounded a lot like a slipped disc to me, but I may have been mentally trying to understand by associating it with something familiar. No surgery required, fortunately, and as long as we take some precautions, Big Dog’s back should heal on its own.

Now, if I haven’t explained this clearly before now, let me paint a picture of Big Dog’s personality for you: Big Dog can be a very sweet, very cuddly dog, and he likes a good ear-scratch as much as the next canine. He likes to sleep under the covers, draped across my feet, and if I move my legs in the night, he follows and makes sure he’s still in contact with me by scooting over to lie up against my legs and feet again. He likes everyone and every thing he meets. (Seriously, he would make a terrible guard dog. He’d make friends with the burglar.) HOWEVER… Big Dog also has a wild-and-crazy side. He is a Harrier Beagle, and Harriers are bred to chase (and catch) wild rabbits. The breed is known for their running stamina and will often chase for so long that their prey eventually gives up from exhaustion. (No joke. It’s in the breed description.) Around our house, we’ve always been amused by the way he “exercises” himself. He’ll run around in circles or run laps around the living room or the backyard if he doesn’t get enough activity on our walks. As I’ve said before, he considers Little Dog to be his personal chew toy and takes great pleasure in goading Little Dog into wrestling with him. And, holy cow, this dog can JUMP. He’s both impressive and a little scary in his ability to jump over things or jump to reach things. He’s like the mutant offspring of Road Runner and a Gummy Bear. (That’s a Gummy Bear from the cartoon show, not the candy. They had a song and everything: “Gummy Bears… bouncing here and there and everywhere…” Never mind. You had to be a kid watching cartoons in the 1980's to understand.)

Anyway, this is my dog. He’s crazy. And the vet says to Mr. Chandler, “He needs to take it easy for 3 weeks. No wild-and-crazy running around.” Seriously?!

He’s going to give us sedatives, right? Oh, and can we get something for the dog, too?

Pepperoni and Pen-Spinning

Mr. Chandler and I spent a couple hours at our favorite deli/pizza restaurant this evening. We regularly frequent this restaurant. (Is that redundant -- regularly frequent?) They make fantastic sandwiches and amazingly good pizza, and the family that owns it is extremely supportive of local teachers. Plus, they have free wireless internet, so it’s a nice place to get some work done. Because there was no school today (Veterans Day), I was really thinking of it like a Saturday. So I was surprised to see two of my students walking past the windows. They saw me and ran inside and came to talk to me. They were with their friend and his parents and were the first of many to arrive for a celebratory soccer-team dinner. I introduced my students Vi and Raleigh to Mr. Chandler, and they introduced me to their friend Tommy and to Tommy’s parents. We chatted for a moment, and then they ordered pizza and found a booth. The parents sat on one side of the booth, while the three boys sat on the opposite side. They were funny to watch – arguing over who got to sit by the window and generally acting more like 5th graders than 8th graders. I like the fact that they were so comfortable with the two adults and didn’t mind spending time with them. Most 8th graders these days just want to AVOID their parents. It was encouraging to see them spending wholesome time together. Another 8th grade student of mine showed up with his family as we were getting ready to leave. They were part of the incoming soccer group as well. His mom said hi to me and pointed out that I obviously can’t escape the students even on my days off, and I laughed and told her that I didn’t mind because they’re such great kids. She smiled and said, “Oh good, I’m glad you think that… because I’m ready to send them back to school now!”

While they waited for their pizza, all three boys were spinning pens. This pen-spinning is a trend that began last spring, and it drives me crazy. They used to spin pens and pencils during class until I outlawed it. I told my students that they weren’t allowed to spin anything because they weren’t very good at it, and that their pens and pencils made too much noise when they got dropped onto a desk. The students even purchase special spinning pens with flexible rings on the end; I assume the rings act as weights of some kind, as well as decorations and possibly cushions when the pen is dropped accidentally. The two boys in the pizza place tonight are probably my two best pen-spinners, and it's not hard to see why. Apparently, when they are outside my classroom, they practice incessantly. They sat across the booth from the adults spinning non-stop. Even when the pizza arrived, one of them continued to spin his pen while trying to take a bite of his piece of pizza!

Pay No Attention to the Dog Behind the Curtain

Our dogs are frequent sources of amusement for us, mostly because they’re adorable and hilarious. Little Dog likes to climb up on the bed and bury his face in the pillows, while the rest of him is still exposed to the cold air. Big Dog likes to burrow down under the covers and allow only his nose to stick out into the room. If you scratch his belly, Little Dog will give you a high-five. Big Dog likes to play with his treats before eating them; he tosses them in the air and chases them when they bounce.

Big Dog generally regards Little Dog as his personal little-brother-punching-bag-chew-toy. He tends to chase Little Dog around the house, jumping on him, play-biting him, and trying to goad Little Dog into biting back so he can consider it a mutual wrestling game. Today, Little Dog attempted to escape the usual barrage of brotherly love by running around to the far side of the bed by the bedroom windows. He ducked his head under the curtain closest to him and sat down against the wall, hiding only his head under the curtain. Big Dog stepped back and barked at him in protest, but Little Dog just sat there. Our bedroom curtains are cream-colored sheers, so he was still visible under the curtain. He just sat there and stared out at us as if he really believed that he was successfully hidden. The weirdest part was that Big Dog sat back and waited until Little Dog came out from under the curtain before going after him again! Could the curtain actually be some kind of strange canine invisibility shield?