Uh Oh, Spaghetti-O's

It was PTA night which meant a very late night for the 6th grade teachers and no dinner. My stomach was growling, my feet were pounding, and I was irritated by having to stand in the hallway keeping 60 kids quiet. We had all the students gather in the classrooms and after a few last minute announcements about adjustments to the program, I cued up a science video. We had sent a trusty student to relay the message we needed only 5 minutes to get the students in line before our turn in the program. Almost immediately after the start of the video, word was sent for us to line up. We flew down the hall in two perfectly quiet and straight lines. All of a sudden we came to a stop as the music teacher greeted us and said, "Well, they aren't quite ready for us." We couldn't allow the students to talk because we were right outside the meeting. There was no air circulating in the hall and students were growing impatient by the minute. I was even getting a bad case of the grumps.

Finally, the line started moving and the students enthusiasm for performing spread like a contagion through the line. The students quickly found their places on the risers and I was blinded by the Paparazzi Parents, but somehow found my seat. The music began and the voices of children boomed. Tears filled my eyes at such a sight of sweet children singing their hearts out to their proud parents. They did such a fabulous job.

After the students finished performing, Family Math Night began. I sat on the back table sandwiched between two math teachers. We were handed a set of dominoes. None of us felt like playing, but I opened the package anyway and challenged the two of them to a game. We were making so much noise over our game, the assistant principal of the school came over and joined us. All of a sudden we heard a loud thud behind the assistant principal. She bent over and scooped up a crying toddler with a bloody nose. The mom came rushing over and we all headed to the school clinic. I grabbed some gloves and tissues and went to work. Fortunately, I had EMT training and bloody noses was my second nature. The assistant principal handed me an ice pack and the baby started to settle down in his mother's arms. The mother was so grateful for my help and I was thankful God put me in the right place at the right time.

When I returned to the cafeteria, there were only a few people cleaning up and I realized my purse was locked inside my portable building in the back of the school by a dark parking lot. I spotted a policeman still in the cafeteria and he agreed to escort me to my room. When I turned on the lights he said, "Wow! What do you teach?" He loved my tropical room and said, "I would love to be a kid in your room."

At the beginning of every school year I pray for God to use me to serve Him. My empty stomach and my pounding feet got in the way of remembering what a passion I have for teaching children. It took a little boy's, "Uh oh, spaghetti-o's" and a policeman on the night watch to remind me of that. Jesus was a teacher and so am I. I can't think of a greater profession in which to belong and serve Him.

Attitude...I am or Yes Ma'am

Nothing is more irrating to me than to hear a child tell me, "I am," after telling him to do some simple task. I am the adult and he is the child. There was one particular boy that had a terrible attitude in my class. He seemed to enjoy being the entertainer in class. If he would spend half his efforts on science class rather than pulling all his antics, he might have a chance at passing class.

I was circulating around the room looking over papers and answering questions. I rounded the corner to Dennis' desk when he looked up, "What?" I shook my head from side to side and put my finger to my lips, "Shhh!" I looked in his hand and saw one of my special pencils half broken in his hand and said, "Keep working." I turned my back to him to continue down the row and I heard something fly past me and sail into the bookshelf. I turned around and a little girl was picking up the broken pencil. "Dennis?" I said in a drawn out fashion. "What?" he said, "It wasn't me." Did he really think I wasn't going to notice the pencil he had had in his hand was clear across the room? "Well, Dennis, do you remember what kids who threw things in 4th grade would have to do when they threw things in my room?" He looked up with big eyes, "Uh no, I never threw anything back then." I positioned myself close to his chair and whispered in his ear, "They got the opportunity to clean everything off the ground in my classroom until I was no longer irritated by the situation. Guess what? I'm pretty irritated and I think I'm probably going to be irritated tomorrow. So, get up and take care of the floor." I walked off and started helping other students. I eventually glanced back and Dennis was still sitting in his desk. I said, "Dennis, you need to get started." He answered me, "I am!" I learned years ago not to get in a tug of war with students. However, I also learned that students that had no respect simply needed an attitude adjustment. I fell in love with a poem by Charles Swindoll about attitude. The poem ends with 'Life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it.' My students also knew what assignment Dennis was about to be given and all eyes were focused on him anticipating the eruption. I said, "Uh oh! Wrong answer, Mister. The computer desk has paper, pencil, and the "Attitude" poem ready for you. When you finish copying it, you can reflect on it while you clean the floor." The class returned to quietly working.

I don't know what it is about kids, but they will always test your limits just to check. He knew what was expected of him and he knew he wouldn't get away with slinging a pencil across the room. After school Dennis made a point to come by where I was standing during after school dismissal to tell me goodbye and have a good day. I smiled and said, "I'll see you tomorrow and I'm becoming a little less irritated." He looked back and grinned from ear to ear as he ran to catch up with his friends.