sunny side

I am suffering from a lack of positivity. This week has been full of disappointments, academic and behavioral, not least of which are two students expelled for selling drugs. Thefts, lies, apathy, parental anemia...the gamut.

So I must focus on something lighter.

We were playing our Civil War paper wad game (more in a future post), and a "dead" student was beseeching his general to use her one resurrection on him (what, you thought my game was realistic??). D. said to his general, "Please? I'll even map out the sentence for you: it starts with 'Resurrect' and ends with 'D.' "

And quick as quick, his general said, " 'Resurrect Alex,' said D."

Also, A. came after school yesterday to StudyFest and left confident: "I'm gonna ace the test tomorrow, Miss M!" He worked the whole hour this morning, checking his answers, and turned in his test with a nod of his outsized head. He came and high fived me in the afternoon when he learned he'd earned a B+. I am so proud of him. Seems funny, but sometimes it takes middle schoolers to the last test of their 8th grade year to put it together--that scoring well isn't magic or luck, and that it only takes a bit of time and effort.

More good news: SDCS may be rescinding some of the teacher layoffs.

And this weekend is my 2nd to the last weekend of grading! Woot.

And my colleague brought for me from the D.C./NYC trip a picture of Washington's dentures--and they are perfectly gross, gross enough for middle school US History! I leave you with this smile as I go to brush my teeth before bed:

from me this year--and never before:

...stolen: two glue caps,

a MacBook and power cord,

Pujols baseball card,

half dozen sodas--

And more than you bargained for:

all of my trust. Ugh.

what is going on?

where have all the boundaries gone?

disappointed...? Crushed.

3 F's in May: the Titanic, baseball, and Batman

What I said: "Of course, Mr. X., we can meet for a conference this Monday."

What I thought: "Really? With three weeks remaining? Where have you been the other 33 weeks? You really think grades move much at the last minute? Have you never heard of the Titanic? How about end-of-season batting averages?"

What I said: "I'd like it if you would bring your son to the conference."

What I thought: "That way he can't play us off each other."

What Mr. X. said: "I'll try to get him to come."

What I thought: "Holy parenting, Batman, that's the problem."

What I would like our background music to be during the conference: CLICK HERE

What I wish Mr. X. had learned earlier: CLICK HERE

WHAT IF there's a disaster drill?

One of the vicissitudes of public school teaching is the Disaster Drill. There are a wide variety of such drills, each with its own procedure: the fire drill--calmly leave the building and sit down in the designated area; the shelter-in-place drill--close all windows and doors to secure against toxic fumes; the lock-down drill--lock all doors and windows while students lay silent on the floor; the earthquake drill--students sit quietly under the tables with their ears and neck covered.

When we debrief, kids start asking questions:

How will locking the bungalow door stop someone from kicking in or shooting the glass windows? What if he has a grenade? What if he sets fire to the bungalow? What if an earthquake kills the teacher? What if you die, Teacher, can I be in charge? How will the fire engine get to the bungalows when we are lined up on the blacktop blocking their way? How will the louvered windows stop toxic fumes from floating in? Is it true that if you scream, the gunman is more likely to kill you? Will you be our human shield? What if we are on lock down for hours--where will we poo? Where will we put the dead people? If there's an earthquake, do you think this table will protect me, especially since I am 6' tall and can't fit under it? What if there's an explosion and we all get deaf so we don't hear the "all clear" signal? Can I be in charge of the bandaids? How will bandaids help if Ive been shot?

Indeed.

In the spirit of WHAT IF--you might enjoy this video of WHAT IF questions that come in handy if you happen to be hanging out with the Queen of England. (What if there is a mosquito on the queen's face? What if she has lipstick on her teeth? What if her dress catches fire?

WHAT IF you click here?)

I wish you "serene good fortune," and may all your drills be espadrilles.

Connecting with the Math Averse/Math Phobic/Math Haters

I don't love math. It's not people-y enough for me to care about it. It's a puzzle to solve. Puzzles are ok. To analogize, if math were literature, it'd be the mystery genre.

Some folks like trying to beat the author at her game, solving the murder before Poirot or Miss Marple or Encyclopedia Brown or whomever. Meh. Who cares? What's the point?

Now me, I like a story that sticks to my guts for days, books peopled with characters that resonate, settings I get to know, filled with history or conversations that make me think, thoughts that transform me.

In school, math teachers are forever trying to persuade the math averse that:

a) We need math. (Uh, not so much as we need love and understanding and a calculator.)

b) Math is fun. (For you, maybe. Yawn.)

Math teachers need to change their tack for some of us. Here are two approaches:

1) I wish a math teacher had explained that math was problem solving, and that I could actually build my brain (synapses and such) by solving math problems. Even if the solving was onerous, at least it wouldn't seem pointless.

2) I wish a math teacher had shown artistic applications of math, not so much to persuade me that math was fun as to show me how others enjoyed it. And that is the genius of this link. Please watch it. It makes me irrationally happy, something I never thought I'd say about a mathematical endeavor:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YOQb_mtkEEE&feature=related

How to Manipulate Your Parent

Helped chaparone a trip to Knott's Berry Farm last night--what a wonderful bunch of articulate, polite, patient, good natured, friendly kids on our yellow bus! We arrived back at school at 2 am--yes, in the morning--and most of the parents were there, ready to transport the sleepies home. A handful of kids had to wait a bit, as always, and as always, that meant so did we chaparones.

I told one, T., he should call his dad and fake cry, "Alllll the OTHER parents came already!! Don't you love meee? Where arrrrre you?" But T. smiled and said, "No, that won't work on my dad. This, though, might: 'Hey Dad, I have fried chicken...' "

Our laughter rang through the wee hours.

If you've taught for any length of time...

...then you understand

the many subtle meanings

rolling eyes convey