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 ...
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
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!)
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!)
Friday, November 18, 2011
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
Thursday, October 27, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
"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.
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.
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