Teaching the Bill of Rights? Easy and Fun!

How to Help Kids Learn the Bill of Rights in Six (Mostly) Easy and Fun Steps

1. Pass out the amendments, and as a class, "translate" them into 8th grade English. Answer a billion legal questions along the way. Make sure you either have a J. D. degree, know a lawyer, or are good friends with Mr. Google.

2. Have the kids draw visual aids to help them associate the rights with their numbers. I draw them step-by-step, and the kids are able to reproduce them. Here are the raw, unretouched pictures I used today, #2 - 10, scrawled without knowing I'd be posting them. (Amendment One is in the first picture, and it's lame.)

Amendment Two is the right to bear arms. My bear has a gun-shaped two. Today I dressed period four's bear as Rambo.

Amendment Three:

"No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law."

We call this the NO QUARTERING amendment. Get it? No quarters? Bahahaha.

This amendment protects privacy, so the fence made of fours protects the happy private guy in his four-shaped house. "The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized." The "fours" is with him--bahahaha, I crack me up.

The fifth amendment has waaaaay too many details to individually depict in one simple graphic, so we just draw the basic fact: citizens' lives, liberties, and property are protected by due process. Here's the picture--take it--take the fifth! Get it? Get it? Bahahaha.

Like its predecessor, we simply boil the sixth down with the catch-all title "The Rights of the Accused." I draw a downright accusable-looking dude who is obviously enjoying his rights.

Amendment Seven says you get a juried trial as long as what you are in court is worth more than twenty bucks. Here, the dozen sevens are transformed into jurors through the miracle of modern medicine, eye transplants. OK, so I just drew a dot on each one, but I prefer to be a bit dramatic.

The eighth amendment prohibits excessive bail, excessive fines, and cruel and unusual punishment. Slap a number 8 behind bars and put a smile on his face because jail is fairly tame, or make an 8-shaped noose. I wondered if my noose was good enough, but then I remembered: no noose is good noose. Bahahaha.

Amendment Nine effectively says that we the people have waaaay more rights than are listed in the Bill of Rights. So many ways to portray this. But remember, I teach 8th graders, so I picked this one just for them. Bahahahaha! "Picked one"!! Ahh, I kill me...

Amendment Ten is like Amendment Nine for states. It says that if a power isn't specifically listed as belonging to the federal government, then the state has that power. Here is the mighty state of TENnessee showing his comparative strength to the federal government. I hint that this is the amendment that is a source of the Civil War-dun dun dunnnnn!--but they are too busy drawing to tune in.

3. Next, give each kid an amendment (or in the case of #1, 5, 6, and 8, PARTS of an amendment) for homework. The kid draws an example of the amendment on the front of a folded piece of blank paper and writes the amendment inside. The next day, set up a Gallery Walk where kids, using their notes, check out each other's art, trying to guess which amendment is portrayed. We do ours in a big circle, moving to the next art piece when I give a signal.

I let the kids do a silent victory dance if they guessed correctly. The Macarena surfaced today, along with the Hand Jive, the Sprinkler, the MC Hammer, the Robot and other classics. (The Michael Jackson crotch grab is verboten.)

4. Next, spend ten thousand hours making flash cards with the amendment (or PARTS of the amendment) on one side and the number on the reverse. Make enough sets, one per group of three for your whole class. (California's class sizes that meant I went through ten thousand reams of paper.) It's a hassle, but you will have them for a long time. I keep mine in ten thousand plastic baggies.

5. Have them play Bill of Rights Slap Jack©! Man, this really is fun. The dealer (who doesn't play) places a card, word side up, on the desk. The two players think and then whoever slaps and says the amendment correctly keeps the card. If a kid is incorrect, the dealer takes back the card AND one of the incorrect kid's previously won cards. Ouch--that stops random guessing! Winner of the most cards becomes the dealer.

Seriously, the kids love this game. Everyone gets better, and after a few rounds I put the dominators in groups together so they stay challenged, and the slower reflexed, thinkers, readers get mastery in less intimidating groups. NO ONE FEELS BAD about not being a dominator!

Listen, it really is super fun. If kids get hung up on who was first and all that nonsense, a quick game of Rock/Paper/Scissors ends the dispute so I never have to get involved. Everyone loves Bill of Rights Slap Jack ©--the seminar kids begged to keep playing, and the regular kids cheered when I said we'd play more tomorrow.

#6. For tonight's homework, they are prepping for my middle school version of Car Talk's Stump the Chump: each kid writes a short story that has a character who is getting three rights violated. Tomorrow, I will read some and the kids will have to figure out what amendments were violated. FUN. And then more Bill of Rights Slap Jack©, and then a test on Monday.

Lemme 'Splain

Like Lucy to Ricky, lemme 'splain what that soda haiku of December 21st is about.

Leftover sodas from a staff birthday drew whiney requests: "Pleeeease can I have one?" Annoyed Teacher tossed curt denials: "No."

Annoyed Teacher SHOULD HAVE moved the soda, but you must know that "Annoyed Teacher" is really the code name for "Unorganized Teacher." The sodas, like many things in my classroom, remained where they landed.

And then I got sick. Waaay sick. Four days at home, sick. When I returned we teachers were celebrating another staff bday, and when I went to get the sodas, all that remained was the empty box.

In over twenty years of edumacation I never have sustained a personal theft (well, Molly the Dolly was stolen, but that's another story) until these stupid sodas. Witnesses named names, the accused denied and shifted blame and did some hard time at Saturday School, but never did they apologize or replace the stolen goods and believe me, it has cost Annoyed/Unorganized Teacher some effort to treat the thieves with forgiveness, not because I care about soda, but because honesty and integrity are the principles I hold most dear. The thieves showed no remorse so I am left to believe that their entitled rationalizations ("The teacher can afford it/I deserve it/I love Diet Dr Pepper/She wasn't drinking them") outweighed their consciences and respect for me. It has shaken my trust in all kids. Is my purse safe? What about the loose change we save for the leukemia drive? What about the reward candy I stash in the lectern?

Truth be told, it's hard to smile at the thieves. I guess I haven't really forgiven them.

Stolen soda/Stolen trust

They were just sodas.

But when I discovered their

theft, my heart nearly broke...

It's over! At least, it's ending...

The recession, that is. Six gift cards say so.

My completely unscientific method began some years ago when Mr. Recession came to San Diego. It's a little embarrassing, but I and the cool English teacher down the row were taking off for Christmas break and, comparing notes, we found that neither had received as many gifts--most notably, fewer Starbucks cards--as usual. Parents are very generous and supportive of us and our school, and I have even had to call one with the intent to return a gift (per our ethics department and my conscience): a Coach purse. (The parent laughed and said if I knew the deep discount she got at the outlet, I'd never have called.) So both of us noticed the precipitous decline from eighty dollars' worth (I know! Blessings!) to one five dollar card. It's embarrassing to notice, but unmistakeable. And donations of toys for our local firefighters to help needy children declined. And donations for items for our school's silent auction dried up, too. Kids didn't mob the Krispy Kreme fundraisers, either.

Now the love remained unchanging: handwritten cards, heartfelt notes--the very best gifts of all; tons of homemade goods, exotic candy canes. Mr. Recession, like the Grinch, could not stop Christmas from coming.

But this year is different, and now you know: six gift cards (about sixty dollars' worth) tell me more than economic analysts. Mr. Recession is packing his bags.

Awkward Moments in Teaching, II

In an earlier post, I wrote of embarrassing things that kids say as a function of learning. Two more for the record:

So today after school B. is working on her U.S. Constitution project when she randomly asks, "Miss M., does gonorrhea come from Ghana?" (Obviously, B. listens more than she reads, apparently thinking she has found a common root word between the two names. No one is around, so it doesn't stop the show. I am grateful she has waited until school is out to inquire.)

And last week: as my seminar class is learning about impeachment, T. raises his hand. "I feel a tad immature for mentioning this, but I cannot let it pass."

He has a near photographic memory, articulates his thoughts beautifully with no "ums" or uhs," and has won the title "Most Likely to Go to Harvard" from his peers. We wait to hear what golden fact or erudite opinion will drop from his lips. "Go ahead, T., we're waiting..."

"I find it highly interesting that all past presidents in danger of impeachment had names which were euphemisms for penis."

REALLY???? Are you kidding me???? I can't believe he feels free to bring this up. (But of course, as usual, T. is right.)

First Dinner, Then Dessert

Plans are completed

(God and middle schoolers smile)

Now I'm free to play!

It's waaay too much work...

to not go to work....

Today is day two of Lola vs Laryngitis. My brother, a nephew and a cousin all felt funky around Thanksgiving, and being the sharing family that we are, they gave me their funk. First day back from break, though, I began to sound like Arnold Schwarzenegger (not a good sound for me, by the way). It was clear by lunch that I would soon be voiceless.

Now coming off of break, I was ready to launch a multiday project on the Constitution with my history classes and Animal Farm with my English kiddos. Too sick to really be creative, I grabbed Haley's Roots from the

media center. God bless Alex Haley.

OK, that took care of Tuesday.

But by noon on Tuesday it was clear that my AWOL voice wasn't even close to coming home. I am emphatically NOT a movie-showing teacher. Moreover, teaching history in California is like the Bionic Man racing to disarm the bomb attached to the Liberty Bell*: the CST is in May and I can't be stuck in Washington's administration when they are tested on post-Reconstruction. SOOOO today's guest teacher forged ahead and launched the project.

That is, after I spent two hours typing up instructions and going to my classroom to get the model projects ready and the handouts I had already copied ready for Guest Teacher #2.

And now my voice has come back, but it is all pipes and wheezes and kitten-weak. My friend is subbing for me tomorrow and she has my number so that's good. I am under no delusions that B-5 will fall apart when I'm gone. But being gone for three days with three different guest teachers at the end of a grading period is not gonna do wonders for the kids' education, either.

Do I feel guilty? Yes. Is it beyond my control? Yes. There are teachers who are out on a moment's notice--they have a child suddenly sick, or the surf's up. How do they do it?

*couldn't find it online, so here is the epic fight with Bigfoot instead.