Note: The names have been changed to my favorite TV characters from my youth to protect the innocent (or guilty) children.
It was my turn for recess duty and Barney Fife came running up to me. "Look! I've got a gecko." He was holding it in one hand and the poor thing was peering his head out of the clenched hands. I think Barney was trying to scare me, but instead I reached my hand out and said, "Poor thing. He looks scared and hungry." Barney unclenched his hands for me to take the lizard. Unfortunately, the lizard didn't trust me and went running toward Barney's pants pocket. He grabbed it in the knick of time right before the lizard darted down his pants and I said, "Let's put him in the grass, so he can find shelter." About that time the lizard flew out of his hand and was headed toward the grass on his own. Everything would have been fine, but Curious George just had to take a closer look at him and went to grab him. George squeezed a little too tightly and the lizard's eyeball squished out. About that time the rest of the herd of sixth graders came running up to see what treasure had been encircled. Let's just say we had to have a playground burial of our first victim of recess.
All went well for the rest of recess until the whistle blew. Rambo came running up to me hollaring, "Barney and I just got pelted with rocks." I looked toward the direction from whence the commotion had happened and lo and behold, there was Fred and Ricky acting innocent. Ricky had the audacity to thrust his shoulders forward and gesture with his hands, "What! It wasn't me." I motioned for them to come to me, however, natural consequences were beginning to happen because by that time the rest of the line of sixth graders were headed inside for lunch. I finally determined with a lot of effort of interrogating the group that Fred, Ricky, and another boy were throwing rocks. They were trying to see if they could get the rocks to land on the roof on top of our tall gymnasium. It seems that Fred and Ricky didn't have much of an arm on them because their rocks ricocheted off the side of the building and hit Barney and Rambo in the back of the head. OR, did it really happen that way afterall? God loves teachers. Barney and Rambo had terrorized the art teacher the day before. Isn't it interesting that two pebbles ended up hitting the back of two heads that just maybe needed some sense knocked into them?
Disclaimer: No one was seriously injured in the telling of this story. Neither boy wanted ice or complained of a knot on their head. However, we did lose a lizard...may he rest in peace.
Showing posts with label 6th grade children class. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 6th grade children class. Show all posts
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Change
During the first week of school I discovered one little detail had been forgotten when planning for our new students--bathroom breaks! The team of 6th grade teachers decided I would take every science rotation to the bathroom as a group. The only problem was that I had forgotten to do this. During the second week of school I wrote bathroom breaks into my lesson plans to try to avoid the urgency of dancing up and down tail waggers.
During third period my standard first three boys and first three girls went into the bathroom and the others lined up outside to await their turn. I noticed one of my boys allowing others to go in front of him. I checked my watch and discovered we were late for changing classes. I hollared in the bathrooms and said, "We're leaving!" I joke with colleagues that some teachers' classes are all in quiet, perfect straight lines in the hall, but not my class--especially when we are running late. We go through the hall with wild eyes, hands waving, and one big mob. I had no choice but to "walk with a purpose" leaving a few little lambs in the bathroom. Quickly apologizing to the math teacher, I did my best to hurry up the children and do a quick head count telling her who we were still missing.
One little boy appeared at the top of the steps at the door to the school building on his way out to my portable in slow motion. I hollared, "Hurry up, Little Dude!" My next rotation of students had already taken their seats and were copying down the MOOSE assignment. I noticed the little boy had his hand in his pocket. "Come on, Little Dude, run, run, run!" He kept coming with his hand in his pocket. When he went by me he jingled all the way to his desk and back out of my room. "Little Dude," I said, "What do you have in your pocket?" He said, "Just a bit of change." I had to laugh because I noticed every pocket of his cargo pants was bulging with coins. I think if he would have run, he would have spilled.
My last rotation of the day was filled with my "try-harders." Many of them don't bring back their MOOSE signed. I really feel many of them don't have the luxury of a parent watching over them to guide them. By the time they reach science class, their little brains are about to explode. Many of them come to school without supplies, homework, signatures, or clean clothes. There are many times I offer a few extra shirts and they are scooped up like treasures. This little class has the strugglers and many of them already feel like they just don't count. To me, they count even more. When they don't have a pencil, I try to not just give them the standard yellow #2 pencil, but rather a cool, fuzzy one. It's amazing how willing they are to write for me when they have a cool pencil. My little guy from the third rotation had lots of pockets with lots of change, but my 4th rotation had pockets with holes. When kids repeatedly come with ripped shirt, I tuck a couple of shirts into their backpacks. It's amazing how much grades improve when students that "have none" can look like the students that "have alot". These little guys are only 11 or 12 years old. I don't want them to have the message "I'm not good enough." For years I have taken donations from a local clothing store to our district PTA clothes closet. However, even despite the encouragement of our nurse, many families won't take advantage of this resource. If the horse won't go to the water, then I'll just bring the water to the horse. They might not be the brightest crayons in the box, but they are still in the box and contribute to the rainbow. I didn't sign on to be a teacher to just teach the smart kids or the ones that could afford supplies and nice clothes. I signed on to be the best teacher I could be to ALL kids.
During third period my standard first three boys and first three girls went into the bathroom and the others lined up outside to await their turn. I noticed one of my boys allowing others to go in front of him. I checked my watch and discovered we were late for changing classes. I hollared in the bathrooms and said, "We're leaving!" I joke with colleagues that some teachers' classes are all in quiet, perfect straight lines in the hall, but not my class--especially when we are running late. We go through the hall with wild eyes, hands waving, and one big mob. I had no choice but to "walk with a purpose" leaving a few little lambs in the bathroom. Quickly apologizing to the math teacher, I did my best to hurry up the children and do a quick head count telling her who we were still missing.
One little boy appeared at the top of the steps at the door to the school building on his way out to my portable in slow motion. I hollared, "Hurry up, Little Dude!" My next rotation of students had already taken their seats and were copying down the MOOSE assignment. I noticed the little boy had his hand in his pocket. "Come on, Little Dude, run, run, run!" He kept coming with his hand in his pocket. When he went by me he jingled all the way to his desk and back out of my room. "Little Dude," I said, "What do you have in your pocket?" He said, "Just a bit of change." I had to laugh because I noticed every pocket of his cargo pants was bulging with coins. I think if he would have run, he would have spilled.
My last rotation of the day was filled with my "try-harders." Many of them don't bring back their MOOSE signed. I really feel many of them don't have the luxury of a parent watching over them to guide them. By the time they reach science class, their little brains are about to explode. Many of them come to school without supplies, homework, signatures, or clean clothes. There are many times I offer a few extra shirts and they are scooped up like treasures. This little class has the strugglers and many of them already feel like they just don't count. To me, they count even more. When they don't have a pencil, I try to not just give them the standard yellow #2 pencil, but rather a cool, fuzzy one. It's amazing how willing they are to write for me when they have a cool pencil. My little guy from the third rotation had lots of pockets with lots of change, but my 4th rotation had pockets with holes. When kids repeatedly come with ripped shirt, I tuck a couple of shirts into their backpacks. It's amazing how much grades improve when students that "have none" can look like the students that "have alot". These little guys are only 11 or 12 years old. I don't want them to have the message "I'm not good enough." For years I have taken donations from a local clothing store to our district PTA clothes closet. However, even despite the encouragement of our nurse, many families won't take advantage of this resource. If the horse won't go to the water, then I'll just bring the water to the horse. They might not be the brightest crayons in the box, but they are still in the box and contribute to the rainbow. I didn't sign on to be a teacher to just teach the smart kids or the ones that could afford supplies and nice clothes. I signed on to be the best teacher I could be to ALL kids.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Damaged Goods?
I love teaching. I think I was born to teach. However, I think I still hold the record for being the worst behaved student at Ridgecrest Elementary School. I remember being paddled in music class AND by my second grade teacher. This really didn't change my behavior. I excelled at third grade with a very understanding teacher that understood my creativity and curiosity. She knew when I had the wiggles to put me to work cleaning and organizing. Even still, there were years and years of spending time in the principal's office. I would walk in and he would automatically dial my parents' phone numbers from memory. I was a "Tomboy" and loved doing anything possible to get the boys to chase me at recess. I would hit the boys, kick them or give them a karate chop and flip them over my back just to get their attention. I remember one time the teacher said, "I'm going to paddle the next person that talks." The boy sitting behind me took the opportunity to pull my pony tail. Without the opportunity to explain myself I was sent to the hall. I wasn't about to be paddled, so I simply ran out the back of the school and ran all the way home. My plan worked perfectly because I got home and started watching television. The only problem was the principal came and got me. My parents had the rule that if you got paddled at school you got it twice as bad at home. I don't remember being spanked very often at home, but I do remember being grounded all the time. So, why was I so bad? I was really over-active and had good intentions. I was curious. I remember bringing a magnifying glass to school to see if the sunlight coming through the window and passing through the glass could ignite paper. My 4th grade teacher wasn't amused when smoke was coming out of my desk. My teachers would have a heart attack if they only knew I became a teacher.
Last week I heard about how horrible some of my students were in previous grades. Call it old age or call it bad memory, but I don't remember these children being horrible when I taught them 2 years ago. Some of them had some personal issues, but they really weren't horrible. Some of the students (actually a bunch of them) were behind in school, but they weren't really just damaged goods. I refused to write them off then and I have vowed not to listen to the negative comments now. These are children that belong to somebody's parent. That parent really did send me their best child and it's up to me to make them better. The parents aren't keeping the good kids at home and sending me the bad kids. It's up to me to turn it around.
On the third day of school we had a child just show up without a parent to register the child (to keep the child anonymous I will not reveal any detail including gender about the child, so please forgive the monotony.) He/she was finally assigned to a homeroom and began rotating with his/her class. The child got in trouble in every class he/she went to. I was determined to find out what was going on. Typically children are on their best behavior on their first day of a new school, so why was this child acting out? I found out this little child had more issues in his/her life that most adults wouldn't be able to handle. The next time he/she was in my class I had the opportunity to pull the child aside. I made sure all the issues I could help him/her with like money for the MOOSE notebook, school supplies, and even clothing were taken care of for him. All of a sudden there was a different child in my classroom. I told this child there were adults at school that could help him/her with the problems. Today I noticed the child walking in the hall in a different direction from where he/she should have been and found out he/she went to go have a conversation with someone about the issues. A child just needs an advocate. A child needs to know what it is he/she is doing right and how to improve. Every child really does want the positive attention, but when they can't get the positives needed from an adult, they will seek out the attention in anyway possible. I call it the firework display of emotions. Sometimes the fireworks are beautiful and sometimes you get the duds that misfire. In the end, all you care about seeing is the beautiful finale of all the colors that finally come together.
In the grocery store fruit department, the damaged fruit is tossed to the trash. The bruised bananas are discarded and no one gives them a second glance. In my classroom, if a child is damaged, they aren't discarded. I'll love them, encourage them, scold them when needed, but they are anything but discarded. Damaged goods? I don't think so. I wouldn't even put my students on "clearance." Afterall, their parents sent me their best child. It's up to me to make them even better.
Last week I heard about how horrible some of my students were in previous grades. Call it old age or call it bad memory, but I don't remember these children being horrible when I taught them 2 years ago. Some of them had some personal issues, but they really weren't horrible. Some of the students (actually a bunch of them) were behind in school, but they weren't really just damaged goods. I refused to write them off then and I have vowed not to listen to the negative comments now. These are children that belong to somebody's parent. That parent really did send me their best child and it's up to me to make them better. The parents aren't keeping the good kids at home and sending me the bad kids. It's up to me to turn it around.
On the third day of school we had a child just show up without a parent to register the child (to keep the child anonymous I will not reveal any detail including gender about the child, so please forgive the monotony.) He/she was finally assigned to a homeroom and began rotating with his/her class. The child got in trouble in every class he/she went to. I was determined to find out what was going on. Typically children are on their best behavior on their first day of a new school, so why was this child acting out? I found out this little child had more issues in his/her life that most adults wouldn't be able to handle. The next time he/she was in my class I had the opportunity to pull the child aside. I made sure all the issues I could help him/her with like money for the MOOSE notebook, school supplies, and even clothing were taken care of for him. All of a sudden there was a different child in my classroom. I told this child there were adults at school that could help him/her with the problems. Today I noticed the child walking in the hall in a different direction from where he/she should have been and found out he/she went to go have a conversation with someone about the issues. A child just needs an advocate. A child needs to know what it is he/she is doing right and how to improve. Every child really does want the positive attention, but when they can't get the positives needed from an adult, they will seek out the attention in anyway possible. I call it the firework display of emotions. Sometimes the fireworks are beautiful and sometimes you get the duds that misfire. In the end, all you care about seeing is the beautiful finale of all the colors that finally come together.
In the grocery store fruit department, the damaged fruit is tossed to the trash. The bruised bananas are discarded and no one gives them a second glance. In my classroom, if a child is damaged, they aren't discarded. I'll love them, encourage them, scold them when needed, but they are anything but discarded. Damaged goods? I don't think so. I wouldn't even put my students on "clearance." Afterall, their parents sent me their best child. It's up to me to make them even better.
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