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.