Is it awkward yet? Adventures in Teaching

With the nature of my senior classes, sometimes I have very low numbers.  Today, I have one student for 5th and 6th periods. It's a madhouse in here. Can't get this class under control to save my life.  Classroom management is a nightmare.

Oh wait... yes, I can. He's just sitting there working on a reading work sample as I sit here and think about how awkward I could make this for him. 

The following is a list in progress.  Please feel free to use these in your workplace.




20. Deciding right this very instant is when I should clean all of the tables in here, and every time he moves to a new table, making that the next table I must wipe down.

19. Posing a question like I am asking a group of people, looking around the room, and then saying "If nobody raises his or her hand, I will call on someone randomly" before my eyes land on him.

18. Burping super loudly, acting like nothing happened, and then after a minute saying "Ew, do you smell that? Who did that??"

17. Asking him if he'd help me hand papers back.

16. Saying, randomly, "There is only one person failing this class right now, and he has the best attendance" (even though he's not failing).


15. Going outside and standing outside my classroom window saying "Psst..psst!" and every time he looks back, ducking so he can't see me.


14. Knocking some papers off my desk, waiting for about five minutes, and then angrily saying "Who did this?!"

13.  Crawling under my desk, yelling "Four!", and tossing golf balls toward him.

12. Taking the chip bag off his desk, saying "food tax," and walking away.

11. If he asks a question, hold my finger to my lips to signal for him to be quiet.  Then sliding out of my chair, crawling around my desk, and pretending I am James Bond as I sneak over to his desk while army crawling and diving behind random desks.

10.  Yelling "QUIET!!!" even though it is completely silent in here.

9.  Giving him a page of really complicated math problems and pretending I have no idea what he's talking about when he asks why I gave him math work in an English class.

8.  Speaking in gibberish.

7.  Asking him really simple questions and every time he starts to answer shouting "WRONG!"

6.  Asking him to bring me a book from a shelf right next to my desk... when he is sitting in the very back of the classroom.

5. Acting like I have no idea who he is and threatening to call campus security if he doesn't show me his ID immediately. 

4. Asking what his favorite song is, and then after he answers, putting it on, and dancing while shouting "This is how you Dougie!" over and over (no matter what the song is).

3.  Telling him I have something very serious to discuss with him that could affect his graduation this coming spring and then asking him which he likes more, SpongeBob or Patrick. 

2. Going over to him and asking if my ear piercing looks infected.

1.  Standing up, turning my classroom lights off, walking out, locking the door, and then climbing the fence right outside my classroom window...never telling him I was leaving.
 
You know you want me as a teacher.
Good times.

You are not worth being Sandra.

Randomness.
Stream of thought.
Being a writing teacher, I feel I must apologize for the organization of this following post.  But this is how my mind is working right now, and like I always tell my students, once you know the rules, it's more acceptable to break them.

I never thought so before. I did not think there was a reason some people came into your life.  I never thought anything was related to destiny or fate or any other word that would hint at people not being completely in control of the path their lives take.

Before you.

This girl is wearing bright pink jeans.  This reminds me of the image of the 1980's I have formed in my mind.  I was only six years old at the end of the 80s, and even though I never wore crazy, kooky colored outfits, I still believe ALL OTHER PEOPLE must have.

You were there on the edge of my life.  I saw you. I noticed.  Time and distance screw everything up.  And me. I'm pretty good at that, too.

My mom once told me I would never amount to anything because I became pregnant at eighteen.  At the time, I was too hurt to ask her what she considered "amounting to anything" as looking like.  Silly that words from someone with a fraction of the motivation I have always possessed could cut so deeply.

I can't not think about you. I don't know how.  I cannot wake up in the morning without you on my mind. Did I make it that easy to walk right in and out of my life?  The sick feeling in my stomach started months ago when I found this song. I hate how much her words hurt.

I've never had anyone know my thoughts. My mind is constantly turning and twisting.  But you knew that.  How weird is that?  You made the ridiculous notion of soul mates make sense.

I think Pepe La Pew was onto something.  A cat is a skunk minus the stripe. 

My actions are not my own.  My future is not up to me.  We all know what would happen if it was up to me.

My mom was right.  I was just viewing her statement wrong.  A profession is not the only way to amount to something.

Some words are nice. Even if I can't hear them being said. Now I barely to get to read them.

No matter what, this will happen.  Isn't it crazy how I believed that?  Isn't it even more crazy that I wouldn't let some crazy person's ranting bother me?  I know how to smile and nod as well as stand my ground.  They can try to drag my name through the mud all they want; it's stain-guarded for those who really know me. 

My kids will be happy.  Mama's happiness is secondary.  She puts on a good show.  Dancing around the kitchen, cooking dinner, music blaring.  It even prevented the youngest from having a fake seizure on the kitchen floor from starving. Mom dancing=kid dancing.  Mom laughing=kids laughing.  Mom's heartbreaking=kids never knowing.

I'm not scared.  That's a lie. I am scared. But of completely different things than you.  I am not scared of things a bitter person may say.  I'm scared of these words being enough for me to stop mattering.

I would have changed mostly anything.  I'm not worth a fight.

You are not worth being Sandra.

These are our future leaders.

Currently, my writing students are taking their state writing assessment.  These tests are very highly guarded.  No student sees another student's test.  The test booklets are locked up whenever they are not being used. And I have to turn them in every afternoon and check them back out every morning.  Needless to say, when a student says they have the wrong test booklet, I get a little freaked out, because that could be considered a test violation and mean we'd have to jump through all sorts of hoops.  This was the conversation that happened as I passed out the test booklets during third period today.

Student: This isn't my test.
Me: (Quickly look at his booklet) Yes it is.
Student: My name isn't Stephanie Moore.
Me: No, but mine is.
Student: You gave me a booklet that says Stephanie Moore.
Me: I'm special; my name is on all of the test booklets.
Student: ...blank stare....
Another student: Dude, you're looking in the wrong spot. Her name is Stephanie Moore. And she doesn't need to write an essay... so...?
Student: Oh... Wait... This is mine. There's my name.

At no point did this kid EVER acknowledge it was my name that he was confused about.

Here ya go, 10 CP

These are college prep kids. They want to be in the blog. These are the most noteworthy tidbits of conversations from my higher level students today.

One student hands another student a sheet of paper.

“Oh my goodness! It’s pink!… salmon!… an organish color?… What color is this?”

“Just read it!”

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“Ms. Moore, it has been decided; I will name my child Philosophocles.  There, I’m 50% of the way there.”

“50% of the way where?  Having a child named Philosophocles?”

“Yea.”

“Well, considering you have no potential female that would have a child with you and even allow you to name your child Philosophocles, I’d say you’re definitely less that half way there.”

“Details, Ms. Moore. Details.”

--------------------------------

“We should do a class wide review game show.  Everyone can earn a free kidney transplant.”

“No. You have to earn your kidney transplant… You have to earn CPR.”

“Oh yea, James started choking, and you said ‘you don’t just get CPR; you have to earn it.’”

Lord, I was born a ramblin' woman...

People are funny.  Random tidbits of conversations are even more funny.  You hear many random conversations being a teacher and a mom.  Sometimes I like to make up the rest of the conversation in my head, rather than ask what the heck they are talking about.  Here are some random tidbits of conversation I heard just today and how I imagine the rest of each of the conversations to unfold.

Random tidbit: The longer you go without drinking blood, the less of an effect it will have on you.
How the conversation must have continued:
"When was the last time you drank blood?" Tommy asked.
"Well, I wanted some for dinner last night," Billy began.  "But my mom said we had run out. I think she was just too lazy to cook it."
"That sucks, dude," Tommy replied.  "But just think, the next time you do drink blood, it will have a huge effect on you."
"I know. But, it's just not the same, you know? Sometimes I think it would be easier being a werewolf."

Random tidbit: I think the Prozac is making them taste bad.
How the conversation must have continued:
"That's not because of the Prozac; it's because you cooked them wrong.  How long did you let the water boil?" asked Sally.
"What? I didn't know you were supposed to let the water boil first," May said, looking as confused as one could possibly be over such a delicate subject.
"You mean... you thought you could cook acorns and pine needles without boiling the water first?" Sally asked incredulously.
"Umm... Yea, duh," May replied. "You just butter a pan and fry them up.  But, like I said, I'm pretty sure it was the Prozac that made them taste bad in the first place.  I thought I was supposed to crush them up and use them as a flavoring while I fried them."
"Oh... You're probably right," Sally replied. "Everyone knows that you add the Prozac in after, for that 'freshly happy' taste."

Random tidbit: That's not a referral; it's a tattoo.
How the conversation must have continued:
"It's a referral."
"Tattoo."
"Referral."
"Tattoo."
"Do you even know what 'tattoo' means?"
"Yea, it's when a teacher writes 'doofus' on your forehead and makes you spend your lunch in detention."
"Oh... Then it totally is a tattoo."

If I only had a brain...

Gems, all of them. Gems.

UH OH

"Ms. Moore, can I go to the bathroom?"

"We're about to take a test; can you wait?"

"I guess... but if it starts to smell bad in here, I'm gonna have to go."

As I was passing out the quizzes, this student held his hand up and said, "Just a minute."  Then a very concentrated look came over his face, and he seemed to be bracing himself.

Finally, I had to say, "Dude, if you have to go to the bathroom that badly, then just go."

His reply was, "What?... Oh no, I was just about to sneeze..."

What was I supposed to think?? At least the class got a laugh out of that one.


DESCRIPTIVE WRITING
On the board, I wrote the following words: red, happy, sad, long, short, funny, and nice.  The instructions I gave to students were to write more descriptive words for each, retaining the same meaning.  Then, once they had generated a more descriptive list, they were supposed to come up with even more descriptive words.  This was my favorite list of words, verbatim:

Red: really red, really bright red
Happy: super happy, really super happy
Sad: kinda sad, like super sad
Long: crazy long, really long (wait, would crazy long be more descriptive than really long?)
Short: stubby, my mom
Funny: really funny, super funny
Nice: really super nice, Ms. Moore (cuz she'll still give me credit for this assignment even though I was goofing off. It is almost Christmas)

Is it any wonder this student has yet to pass the state writing test? It's obvious that he is a literary genius. What a shame.

ORIGINALITY?

"Chris, I said your story had to be a page long."
"Really? This isn't good enough?"
"Considering you still have 10 lines on the bottom of your page, I'd say no."
"Can I borrow some scis--wait, I have some."

He then cut the bottom portion off his paper and handed it to me. If no other students had seen him, I might have let him get away with it.  But they did see, and I didn't want them following suit, so I made him rewrite it.  I'm a very nice teacher.

I'm on a prank show, huh?

Some of the gems I've heard from students this week...

Student: When I enter my name into the spellchecker, it says "You've made a mistake."
Me: At least it doesn't say, "You're parents made a mistake."
Student: (Blank stare.... blank stare... light bulb!) Oh... hahaha... That's pretty funny.

Student: I know you're not supposed to help me because this is an on-demand essay, but is this long enough? (show me laptop screen with what appears to be four sentences separated into four paragraphs)
Me: Well, you could always remember how many sentences are supposed to make up each paragraph.
Student: Oh yea... three to five... But if I add any more on, it'll just, like, make them run-ons, you know?
Me: I didn't say add onto the sentences. How many paragraphs should you have?
Student: Five; intro, three body, and conclusion... But I only have four.
Me: Exactly.
Student: (looking at me like I am the one who is confused) Well, I'm writing my essay about pencils. So I'm not really sure what else you want me to write about...
Me: You were told to write about an important invention, and since you chose pencils out of ALL inventions EVER, it seems you thought you'd have at least three good, strong points to make about this important invention.
Then she just walked away, back to her world.

Student: What score do I need to get to pass?
Me: 236.
Student: So I passed??
Me: You got a 235... so...
Student: Yea, but you said if we were within a few points, they'd give it to us.
Me: No, I said they'd give you another try.
Student: ........I don't get it.
Me: You can take the test again?
Student: ..... That's stupid.

Student: Is this written in a different language?
Me: What?... No. Why would I give you something written in a different language?
Student: Are you being serious? Can anyone else read this?
Other students:... Yea...
Student: I think you're all lying. I don't even know what this letter is (points at paper).
Me: It's an "s"... a cursive "s."
Student: Oh... I don't know cursive.


These are all teenagers aged 15-19. Sometimes I am convinced I am on a prank show, and somebody is going to jump out and say "Gotcha!" when I look so surprised by my students remarks.