Literary Throwdown

A student challenged me today - read Halo: The Fall of Reach (The official prequel to the award-winning Xbox game!) because "it's a really good book, Miss!" He was super excited about this book. In fact, he has read it three times, and it looks like he has read it multiple times. It's all battered and beaten and it doesn't quite close all the way.

This got me thinking. My students really do love to read. I'd like to think that I did that this year by allowing them to read whatever novel their little hearts desire. I mean, as a teacher, it is in my nature to take the credit when something goes right, and to blame the students when something goes horribly wrong. However, I don't think it's all me. While I know for a fact I have several students who are now reading because of my doing, I have tons more who always loved to read. At home. With the lights off and a flashlight on. When no one was looking. Secret readers. Fearing getting teased, these students refused to carry books at school. Some even refused to allow their own families to see that they loved to read. But they have been readers for years and years. And now that almost every single student is carrying a book around, these students can stop being secret readers and read whenever the heck they want. You know, because it's for school and all ... not because they want to or anything :)

One student spent her summer reading the Vampire Academy books.There are six pretty thick books in this series. But that's what she spent her time this summer doing. Then, to my amazement, she and another student got into a heated debate about the outcome of the novels centered around plot lines and characterization. Blew. My. Mind.

Another student rejected every book I gave him as lame. Finally the librarian gave him a copy of Bruiser by Neal Shusterman. I cannot get this kid to put his books down. He has read one Shusterman novel after another. It's like an addiction for him.

I have students who take their books to lunch. I have students who cheer when we have a reading day. I have students begging to go to the library! It has truly been an amazing year so far with reading. I have not ever witnessed this kind of literary enthusiasm in my ten years of teaching.

So we come full circle back to Halo: The Fall of Reach. I never would have picked this book up in a million years. First off, it's based on a video game (one I love to play, but still ... it's based on a video game). Second, it is written for people who play this game a lot. (I'm not going to get into stereotypes here, but you all know what I'm implying.) It is full of very technical descriptions of nouns which do not really exist. Third, it is such a boy book!

But I've been challenged. A literary throwdown of sorts has been issued, so I must answer it. It's a matter of pride ... and good teaching. How can I expect him to trust me when I tell him to read something because it's really good if I won't return the favor? So while I know this will probably be a literary beating, I will spend some time over my break reading Halo: The Fall of Reach.

Because my student asked me to.

This way, I can ask him to read Little Women.

The Blind Leading the Blind

I have no clue what I am doing with my students tomorrow. Honestly ... not an idea at all. This could get downright frightening. What can I do that won't take all day to set up but is also meaningful? Plus, it's raining outside, which shouldn't matter, but I really just want to sit here in my pajamas and read. Being responsible and earning my paycheck is not fun.

Oh, and molding young minds ... I am molding young minds ... which is fun. I should remember that :)

Fiction is Real

From a student essay:

"The book I read and My Sister's Keeper are different because my book isn't real and My Sister's Keeper is a true story."

Sigh ...

Thankful

Thanks to my week-long Thanksgiving Break, I was able to attend my daughter's Thanksgiving feast at her preschool today. After watching an hour of her class, I am thankful for so many things:
I'm thankful my students can put their own clothes on.
I'm thankful my students can take care of their own potty needs.
I'm thankful I don't have to do playground duty when it's cold and damp outside.
I'm thankful that snack time doesn't automatically equal vacuum time in my room.
I'm thankful that I don't have the opportunity to laugh at something these small kids say and damage their self-esteem forever.

However, I'm also thankful that I got the opportunity to watch my daughter play with her friends.
I'm thankful that several of the children shared the process of making their projects with me.
I'm thankful that my daughter has really good table manners.
I'm thankful that my daughter gets a fantastic education from some of the best preschool teachers on the planet.

Finally, I'm thankful I get a week to recharge my batteries before the push to Christmas Break. I so needed this.

Murderous Rage

There's a business not too far from my house with a banner outside. The banner reads:

We will beat
all competitors
tire prices

This banner brings out a murderous rage that only a fellow English/Language Arts teacher would understand. We try and we try and we try, but in the end, it doesn't always matter. Somehow, someway, that one kid who slipped through the apostrophe crack managed to get whatever position at this company that's in charge of getting banners to display out front. I should mention that this is a national company with numerous stores, not some mom-and-pop set up at the corner of Isolated and Nowhere.And this banner is HUGE.

What I want to do is sneak out there in the middle of the night with a ladder and a can of paint. There are two things stopping me: 1) I would get caught because my mama didn't raise me to be a vandal and 2) I'm really, really lazy and don't like staying up late or getting up early.

For now, I will give this business the evil eye each time I go by. I will also, now and forever, believe that these people are idiots who are killing the English language one left-out apostrophe at a time. (This might be a mean statement, but they are advertising themselves as such with that giant, idiotic banner. Really, people, grammar-check your orders!)

A Note to a Student

Dear student-

Just a tip: when you copy and paste your essay from the internet, you should remove the web page information. I promise you I'll still catch you, but it'll make my job just a smidgen more difficult. Plus, it gives me greater satisfaction when I track your source down. Right now, I'm only slightly proud of myself. I mean, really, it was beyond easy to find "your" essay on the Internet.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Edwards

Just. Go.

I hate letting students out of my room. First off, they tend to play when in the bathroom or on the way to the water fountain. Second, my class periods are only 45 minutes ... 45 short, precious minutes to shape young minds. Every second is important.

However, I am not heartless. There are exceptions to my strictness. The obvious is vomit. If you have to hurl, you R-U-N to the bathroom. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

Just. Go.

The other is blood. Lots and lots of blood. If you are bleeding profusely, you need to take care of that. You do NOT need to do what Joseph (nope, that is not his name ... it's not even close) did during my class the other day. When his nose started bleeding, he did not get up and head to the bathroom. He calmly sat at his desk with one hand over his nose and the other hand in the air. I admit I ignored him because I was finishing an assignment explanation and thought that I might answer his question during the talk. But when I was done, and I called on him, I noticed a weird shadow on his chin. As he started asking if he could leave to go to the bathroom, I realized the kid had blood pouring out of his nose and down his face. It was everywhere. This falls under the "Just Go" rule. Joseph clearly did not get that memo.

Sadly this was the second time in the week that a student sat at his desk with blood running down his face.It's like they're terrified to get up and go take care of their minor disasters. Perhaps I should lighten up just a bit ... or just make them MORE terrified of sitting there getting blood all over everything than of going AWOL.

Aesop's Fables

I admit that I have become completely dependent on technology. Most everything I teach is on a power point, I find clips and songs with You Tube, and I have never had to average my own grades thanks to my online grade book. So when my computer began freezing when more than one program was open, and timing out when trying to open an internet page, I put in an SOS with the tech department.

The tech accessed my computer, and within an hour, the problem was fixed. Sounds good, right? Wrong. She stripped my hard drive down to the factory settings, completely wiping out everything stored on my hard drive. Ev. Ry. Thing. I even had to reinstall my printer when it was all said and done.

I am not ashamed to admit that I cried, in front of my students, no less, and I had to get it together before I could call the tech department. To say I was in a panic would be an understatement. I am in my 10th year of teaching; there was a LOT of data that was just ... gone. After 24 hours, and two recovery programs, I managed to get back everything from before April 2010. While better than nothing, I am now left with the task on re-creating many, many documents and Excel sheets - hours of work at the least. I am still slightly miffed by the whole thing.

So I ask myself, what went wrong? There was no warning ... there was no tip-off ... just a wipe-down of my hard drive. In fact, at one point, she had me on the phone to ask me a question. Where was the warning to back-up my hard drive? A hint, even, would've been nice. But the nothing, the no warning, well, that was a way to go, too, I guess.

Therefore, the moral of the story is when tech is going to be breathing in the general direction of your hard drive, back up Ev. Ry. Thing.

"Hi. Is this Mrs. Edwards?"

As an educator, I am all too aware of the faults of my own children. Don't get me wrong; I love them more than life itself, and I hope and pray they will take their education very seriously. However, I also know my children, and I know exactly the kind of phone calls I am going to get when they are finally enrolled in school.

There's the first-born, only ten months away from being in kindergarten. She is very bright and has reasoning skills that surpass even some of my 8th grade students. But the girl loves to talk ... a lot. In kind, she is a narrator of her life. Truthfully, though, she is a lesson in being patient with a 4-year-old. "Mom, I'm going to put this right here so you can see it. No, I think I'll put it here instead because over there is might get wet. Wait, here it might get knocked off, so I'm gonna go put it in my room. When I get there, I'll also put shorts on because I'm hot. And, Mom, do you think I could go ahead an put my flip-flops on? I know we're going to the mall later, and I want to be ready. I'm going to wear my pink ones because I'm wearing pink, so my pink flip-flops will match." And all of this is being said while my 2-year-old is screaming and kicking because he doesn't want me to wipe the boogers off of his nose. It takes a lot of brain-power out of me for the day, and I've discovered that is a non-renewable source of processing power.

So, for the girl, I'll be getting called into conferences to see what we can do about her endless chatter and the small seizure-type fits she will throw when the teacher doesn't acknowledge her answer/idea/thought every single time her hand is up. (Seriously, she goes all stiff, trembles from head to toe, and makes a weird noise in her throat ... it's almost a demon-possession kind of moment.) I'm not sure yet how we will deal with this, but I have 10 months to figure this out.

The boy is a completely different story. He's very intelligent in his own way. He observes, watches, and learns then amazes you by spitting out the information one day ... information you had no idea he possessed. However, he has anger management issues. He screams, throws, hits, slaps, kicks, and throws himself to the floor (coincidentally, this also has a weird demon-possessed vibe to it). While I realize some of this may occur because he's two and gets dissappointed when he realizes he is not in charge, some of it is just my son. For example, the other night at dinner in a local establishment, he became enraged when we wouldn't allow him to pig out on fries and insisted he eat something with some nutritional value. He screamed, slapped the table, and dug deep for some crocodile tears. It was incredibly embarrassing, and, despite the fact that I knew I was doing the right thing by ignoring his mad fit, made me question whether or not I was doing a good job of being his mother.

So, for my husband's son, I'll be called down to pick him up from a fight because someone will make him mad and he'll haul off and punch the kid in the face. I mean, between now and then I will try to curb the aggression and teach him to better handle adversity. I will work with him on temper and non-violent ways to handle problems, and that may come naturally as his communication skills improve and I can reason with him better. But in the end, he may just be a difficult child, so I am bracing myself for impact.

My saving grace for them both? They are smart, so I may get called to approve their placement in AP classes. They love to read, so, as long as I keep fostering that love, I may get a call about the upcoming awards ceremony. They love music, so I may get a call about enrolling them in a fine arts program (if they still exist then ... no, really ... that's an IF statement).

Most importantly, though, is that I am willing to work with them on whatever accomplishments or trials they may have. And why? Because I am their mom ... it's my job. Doing anything less would be a total breach in the trust they have in me ... and could potentially lead to the complete mental break down of their teachers.

Who Are You Kids and Where Are My Real Students?

Each day I give my students 10 minutes of time to read the novels they have selected from the library. Today the timer went off, and I looked up to find that not one student had moved. No books closed, no one was looking up, no one even flinched. Do you know what it feels like to be met with the silence of kids reading when the timer lets them know they can stop reading? It gives me actual chills and a sense of awe. I could sit and watch them read all day. They just kept reading...like they liked it or something. However, I also had a lesson they had to master for their writing piece, so I quietly announced that reading time was over, and that's when the whining started.
"Do we have to stop?"
"That was not 10 minutes."
"Miss, look how far I am to the end of the chapter. Can't I finish it?"
"Five more minutes, miss. Please. "

I even warned them they would probably have homework if we did this, but they didn't care. So what could I do? I set the timer for five more minutes and let them keep reading. Then I fought back the tears. In my entire career, this has never happened...ever. Thank you, Readers/Writers Workshop.

The truly amazing thing was when the same situation repeated itself three hours later. Awesome day, indeed. I love my job!

2am ... the First Sign That Tomorrow's Gonna Suck

My least favorite duty of being a teacher is grades. They are rather complicated these days. No longer can you give a student a 100 for completing that assignment; you need rubrics before the assignment goes out to ensure expectations are clear and can be met; you need to write comments and give feedback on the assignment when you're not giving full credit; you have to allow the student to reassess any test grade below an 84 AND fix it so that any grades on the assignments leading up to the test that were below the test grade no longer hurt the student's average ... 'cause now they've shown growth. Honestly, it's exhausting.

So idiot me decided I could grade my papers "real quick" last night when I pulled them out at 9pm. 3 1/2 hours later, I was ready to put the grades into the online gradebook. It took another 1 1/2 hours to get the grades in, sew up my daughter's dress (oh yea, picture day was today, and the dress she wanted to wear had a hole in it. I've actually known about this hole for at least 5 weeks now, but this just further illustrates my point.), and get ready for bed. I seriously underestimated the complexity of grading (and the time it would take to fix the dress hole). Plus, I have about 40 more students this year than I did last year, so I am still adjusting to that insane amount of extra time it takes to get everything graded.

The sad thing is, this didn't have to happen. I had plenty of time all weekend to get this done in a reasonable time frame, but I put it off and put it off until there was no option but to start. I guess this makes me a hypocrite because I am constantly encouraging my students to not put things off until the last minute.

No ... not hypocrite ... a do-as-I-say, learn-from-my-mistakes kind of girl.

What's in a Name?

I'm good with names. Really good. I can look at a list of 1,000 children's names and pick out my 120 students in a flash. I remember the names of many of the people I graduated high school with or went to college with. I remember the names of the kids from the neighborhood where I grew up, and I remember the names of way too many of my former students.

I'm good with faces. I see a face and I know that I know that person. I can identify my students in the halls by sight only a few days into the school year. That kid right there ... he's a student at this school and he is in the second row of my seventh period class.

Put the two together, though, and it is a disaster. Today, for example, I said "Good morning, Alex." Seemingly harmless ... except the kid's name is Adam ... and I have three Adams in this particular class so, really, you'd think the odds of getting this particular name correct would be great. But no ... Alex it was. I did the same thing to Jennifer (actually Lesly), Ale (her name was actually ALSO Leslie), and Johnathan (nope, Paul). I also keep calling our daytime janitor Jose, but, alas, his name is Juan. So. Unbelievably. Embarrassing.

Oh, and it's already the fifth week of school (which means I've actually been around Juan for six weeks) which makes me a regular lame-wad.

Once I learn a name and match it to a face, it doesn't stick forever. It lasts as long as we are in close proximity and talking on a daily basis, and then it's gone. My former students come back, and I can picture them sitting in my classroom, but I cannot remember who they are. So I'm all, "Heeeeeyyyyy (insert awkward pause here) you!" And then I want to die because, for the life of me, I honestly cannot remember their names. I am running through the list of former students in my head, but the match, the all important match, cannot be made.

I'm also that annoying person who can't concentrate on the movie she's watching because I've recognized an actor on the screen but can't think of his name. So I finally have to pause the movie and go look it up on IMDB while  you wait patiently on the couch. And that's at home ... it's really bad in a movie theatre.

I see my co-teachers calling their students by name somewhere around the second week of school. It is depressing that it's going to be another month or so until I can join them. The name thing is a huge handicap as a teacher. It is difficult to count a kid tardy when you're having to glance around the room and try to remember what the late child was wearing, then match that kid to the seating chart. It is difficult to correct behavior in transit in the hall when you have to call a kid out by the shoes he's wearing ("Hey, Nike-wearing kid ... no ... the one behind you ... yeah, you ... knock it off!" - so not effective!!). It is difficult to praise kids or acknowledge kids or be around them when you have to use pronouns all the time.

I do apologize to the kids the first day. I know this is a problem I have. But it is a problem I have with confidence. When I do call a child by the wrong name, it is not a question, it is not a guess, it is right ... that is his name, whether it actually is or not. And if he doesn't correct me, it will be his name for all eternity. Because once I learn a name, I won't forget it ... until we don't talk daily ... and then I'll have no idea who you are anymore.

In with the Calm ... Out with the Chaos

Patience is a virtue. And, really, I want to be virtuous. But it's just so difficult. In fact, the last time I asked God to give me patience, he instead allowed me to practice patience by granting me my 6th period at the time. Since then, I have been very careful about what I pray for.

My real problem is that I deal with middle school students on a daily basis. I love these kids, but their brains function in some strange alternate universe where reality is taking a nap and common sense is out to lunch. So ... I need patience ... and lots of it ... because they require buckets of it ... and I don't ususally get that much. They don't mean take all of my patience, but sadly that suck it dry almost everyday. Somedays I can't even make it to the end of the day before it's gone ... then I'm just running on fumes and prayers so I don't inadvertently frighten some poor kid who asked what he thought was an innocent question.

So it's back to prayer. Carefully, I ask God to help me when I am practicing patience. I try to remember that my students are not all out to get me ... it is not a great conspiracy or a huge plan to send me to the crazy house (right??). I try taking a deep breath when I feel the irritation come on. It makes for a better relationship with my students, and that makes my day go smoother. However, I'm pretty sure I'm getting an ulcer ... or a brain tumor ... or at least a permanent twitch in my eye. But that's okay because my students will be well-adjusted citizens while I break down into a mess of deep breaths, prayers, and twitches.

Reading

I had a student ask me if he could take his book to lunch. This was the same student who, the class before, told me, "Miss, there is nothing good in here." We were in the library. I pointed him to a series of books which I thought he would enjoy if he gave them a chance. Turns out I hit the nail on the head in this case.

I resisted the urge to cry fat, happy tears and hug him endlessly in front of his friends. Because I care. And because I don't want to get arrested.

Student of mine, you have made my week.

Quote of the Day

Administrator to student:
"Well no wonder you're lost. You don't have a fourth period anywhere on your schedule."

You've Been Kittled

This year my district is using the Readers/Writers Workshop model in the Language Arts classroom. This curriculum is amazing! I gets kids reading. It gets kids writing. It gets kids engaged. And until I get the hang of it, it is going to be the death of me!

Today I wrote the same essay about fear six different times because part of Writers Workshop is that you write with your students. So, I did ... the same essay ... six times. Maybe there is someone out there who can give me some pointers on this because I feel like a crazy person by eighth period. Is it better to write virtually the same essay so that I can discuss similar points with each class as I model, or think about my sanity and write a different essay each time? Furthermore, do I even have it in me to write six different essays on the same prompt? See? It's exhausting!

Penny Kittle, one of education's Readers/Writers Workshop gurus, says you should write for fifteen minutes every day. Kittle does this. Kittle, God love her because, truthfully, I want to be her best friend (or at least her Facebook friend), has older children. Children who can fix their own breakfast, do their own laundry, give themselves a shower, drive themselves to dance, and turn the TV on without any assistance whatsoever. Bottom line ... I am using my kids as the very good excuse reason I don't always write fifteen minutes a day. However, when your best friend tells you to get it together and write, you listen. Because honestly, your best friend is starring you in the face judging you with that you-are-so-ridiculous look, while Kittle is only mostly judging you from the cover of a book you can just turn face down on the desk.(Seriously, Penny ... Facebook.)

So today, I wrote. A lot. Way more than fifteen minutes. The crazy thing is it felt good. It's been a while sisnce I wrote from a topic, winging it, in front of a group of teens, and I liked it. I also learned that when I told students it wasn't difficult to brainstorm and write, I was lying big time. That is HARD. (If you are reading this and used to be in my class, I would like to formally apologize to you at this moment for lying to you on accident.) And if I expect my students to write and share, I should be able to write and share.

So, since I have now been Kittled, and my class has been Kittled, we will write ... a lot ... excessively. And while I may not get in fifteen minutes every single day, I'll get my time in there where I can. Who knows, maybe one day I could write for a living ... or at least for fun.

... and then it was Monday.

School has started. This year is a mile stone for me: my tenth year teaching. It's a bit surreal to be honest. When did I become one of those veteran teachers who's supposed to know everything? How did I acquire tales-from-the-trenches stories to share? Really ... I am perplexed.
Ten years ago we started school for the first time after 9-11. Our crisis drills had new elements like "we found anthrax in the building" and "a terrorist attack has occurred in this city." Really, it was enough to give me nightmares ... and I was a grown-up! There were other scary moments, like the time the police escorted a student to his locker right next to my room where they pulled out a huge knife he had brought. (I should note here that we had metal detectors, so how the heck did that get in there??) There were the tornado threats where, again, I had to be the calm, cool grown up. There were even a few students who got so angry with me that I thought if any kid is going to stalk me and stab me in my driveway later, it's gonna be this kid.

But amidst all the crazy is the awesome.

There are the whispers of "I love this class" when the students don't know you are listening. There are the talent shows and where you get to see your students do amazing things you didn't know they could do. There are concerts to be proud of, sporting events to cheer at, and awards ceremonies to recognize the amazing kids. There are the cliche moments when a student "gets" something, and the moments when a high-five is not only warranted, but enthusiastically given.

My greatest memory, though, isn't a moment. It is a girl ... we'll call her Lucy. Lucy was in my class my first year at my current school. Additionally, she was my student aide. She worked her tail off for me, both academically in my class and tediously as my aide. To say that Lucy and I spent a lot of time together would be an understatement. We bonded, and at the end of the year, for the first time ever, I cried when a student left me and moved on. Every year she would come and see me to tell me how she was doing, and it was always really well. When she graduated I cried, and when I found out that she was getting married, I cried again. I love this girl ... she is beautiful, smart, and a super hard worker. She will always be special, and I hope that one day I can teach her children, too.

Teaching is hard, but there are the moments that make it all worth it. The scary, the sad ... those things are fuzzy years later, but the moments that made my day are still crystal clear, even ten years later.

Honoring a Teacher

Today, on the 78th anniversary of my grandmother's birth, I would like to honor Jo Ann Goolsby, one of the more amazing teachers I have ever known.

Grandma spent the first part of her life as the CEO of her household. Once her three children were older, she went back to school and earned a masters degree in education. She started and finished her career at Sam Houston High School (Go Texans!), teaching first Junior then Senior English.

Grandma was old school. She didn't smile the first two weeks of school. She didn't "give" passing grades to star athletes (a practice that caused the administration to place several with other teachers). She wrote on a chalkboard ... with actual chalk.

Despite her cold manner at the beginning of the year, Grandma left a lasting effect on her students with her warm personality and caring attitude. There are people alive today who will tell you she was one of the best teachers they ever had. When her Christmas tree died right before the holiday, leaving her with a barren tree and a carpet full of needles, her students bought her a foot-high glass tree with tiny, light-up ornaments. (She plugged that little tree in every year after that, and it sat prominently on a living room table.) She went to as many SHHS football games as she could to support her students. When she passed away, one of her attendants was a student. Every year in May, a group of ex-teachers who worked with her gather to choose a recipient of a scholarship established in her memory. They talk, they laugh, they miss Jo Ann.

Grandma retired in 1991 when she was diagnosed with cancer. Her death less than a year later left a large hole in the lives of many, many people. Even today, as I sit in my own classroom, planning my own lessons, I wish I could call and ask her for her opinion, her feedback, her support. I imagine my journey to find my teaching comfort zone would've been different if I had had her to lean on.

But then again, maybe I always did.

Going Teacher

Recently a fellow teacher was telling me about how she had to "go teacher" on some kid. This is a common problem among educators. We are expected to maintain safe learning environments, which translates into having a good discipline plan to maintain order. So when you have taken classes, actual classes, on classroom management, it's difficult to let crazy moments go. Anywhere.
My friend's moment involved a boy who proceeded to use the self-serve condiment station at Chick-Fil-A after having his hand down the back of his pants - inside his underwear. So. Gross.
My own experiences are too numerous to count: unattended children in the movies, unattended children on playgrounds, unattended children in Barnes and Noble, unattended children in 7-11 (are we seeing a pattern here, people?). Some are minor incidents. You're five and the youngest in your family. I get it. No one has taught you that it's not okay to push smaller children out of the way to get to the slide because in your home you are the smallest. I can gently explain why that's not okay. Simple. But, dude, you're 12. Do you really think it's okay to fill your free Slurpee cup up with Sprite? Do you want your little brother here to know that stealing is okay? Seriously? That's right ... look sheepish and dump it out ... then say that you're sorry.
I don't always "go teacher." I do manage to hold it in when the children are attended by an adult because if the adults are fine with their childrens's behavior, and they are not embarrassed, then more power to them. However, I have had to "go teacher" on an adult who was allowing the six children she brought to the movie theatre to run rampant and speak in normal I'm-not-watching-a-movie-right-now tones. Not only did she place the children right next to me in the nearly vacant theatre, she answered their at-volume questions with at-volume answers. Do you realize I paid for this movie, too, and I'd like to listen to that dialogue, not yours? So no, you and your charges may not behave this way. Period. Non-negotiable. They got quiet, but she did give me dirty looks every time she had to shush a child. I know, I know ... I'm mean. I guess I should work on that at some point.
Am I proud of my behavior? Absolutely not. Because while it's nice to have that right-the-wrong confidence, it's annoying that I can't let anything go. It's exhausting keeping up with my own children while getting onto others, especially when those others are terrorizing my kids. It would be nice to go out and ignore the problems I see, but I just can't. Being a teacher has ruined me in that respect. Permanently.
So send the children, all of them, unattended into public. I can almost guarantee that there will be a someone there who will step up and "go teacher" on them when they are acting crazy. We just can't help ourselves.