Salvete,
Anime Club is being cute and successful today!
They put two dudes at the front of the room and forced everyone to draw a picture of them. Because this is Anime Club and we are being organized now.
At first, I thought this was a bad idea to make everyone participate. It felt like a class, in that the officers made sure everyone was working and turned in a paper to the front. I felt constricted!
Then, they turned on the document camera and went through the drawings. I thought they would all be sort of lame and the same. Same Lame! But they were definitely not.
The two dudes became dinosaurs, sea-monster dinner, weird doom elevator fodder, and all kinds of talented things. I was hoping they would do another one but now they have moved on in their distracted way to some other discussion!
Valete,
Magistra
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Now For Some Frivolity!
Salvete,
Yesterday, my kids were cute.
One of my former students stopped in during third period to say hi. He is a cheerleader, a junior, and a good-looking young man. He comes by almost every day, sometimes twice or three times. Anyway, my student left after bidding me hello, and I saw one girl lean to another and mouth, "He is so cute!"
No one else saw this exchange, and as they were supposed to be paying attention, I mildly chastised them (honestly, I couldn't help but laugh as I did so), and they dissolved into giggle fits. No one else in the class had heard what they said, so they were somewhat confused by our laughter. I got them back on track and the rest of class was uneventful.
My former student came back in after I had sent the class on their way to my teaching partner's room.
I told him what had happened (though I did save the girls' dignity by not telling him which they were). He decided to drop in on my teaching partner to say hi. When he popped out and then popped in again, he reported that upon his entrance some girls had once again dissolved in fits of giggles, and he got a big kick out of being admired. Silly children!
That story sounded better when I told it out loud before.
Valete,
Magistra
Yesterday, my kids were cute.
One of my former students stopped in during third period to say hi. He is a cheerleader, a junior, and a good-looking young man. He comes by almost every day, sometimes twice or three times. Anyway, my student left after bidding me hello, and I saw one girl lean to another and mouth, "He is so cute!"
No one else saw this exchange, and as they were supposed to be paying attention, I mildly chastised them (honestly, I couldn't help but laugh as I did so), and they dissolved into giggle fits. No one else in the class had heard what they said, so they were somewhat confused by our laughter. I got them back on track and the rest of class was uneventful.
My former student came back in after I had sent the class on their way to my teaching partner's room.
I told him what had happened (though I did save the girls' dignity by not telling him which they were). He decided to drop in on my teaching partner to say hi. When he popped out and then popped in again, he reported that upon his entrance some girls had once again dissolved in fits of giggles, and he got a big kick out of being admired. Silly children!
That story sounded better when I told it out loud before.
Valete,
Magistra
You Are Not Special.
Salvete,
I was listening to a sermon the other day, and it was about how we are not special. I liked it.
I have been saying this for years, and no one seems to believe me except other people who work with teenagers. And then, even some of them do not believe me, for reasons which seem extremely pendulumerific, and which I will not elaborate upon in this post, as it promises to be long enough without such annoyances.
How can I, who believes in the Divine touch in man, say that we are not special?
Because, thankfully, we are all kind of the same. Anyone who argues that one is not alone in the world simply cannot believe that people are special. Being special would not allow for a common human experience--the very thing on which the great works of my content area are based. What greater comfort is there than to know that, despite pain or grief or joy or whatever, that one is not alone? that one inevitably shares their state with someone else? that somewhere, someone in the world has endured the same thing and has survived? Not only survived, even, because surivival is not enough. No, they have gone beyond survival into triumph!
I want my students to see this.
I want them to see that they are not special. To be special is to be isolated. To be special is to be alone. Now, one might argue that being alone is good, or that being isolated can lead to excellent thoughts. Just look at Henry David Thoreau. He chose to leave the World and allow himself to grow through his isolation with nature. He produced some of the most studied Transcendentalist literature of anyone else (I am sure there is a joke in here somewhere about how people who study Transcendentalist literature are not alone or something, but I just cannot pull it out today).
And yet, he wrote. He gathered followers of his philosophy. He was not alone. If he truly wanted to be isolated (read: special), he would have refrained from sharing his experience. However, he did what all good thinkers do, and knew what all good thinkers know: that to remove relatability is to remove being human. He may never have expressly said such a thing, but why else share the revelations of isolation? What is the meaning of isolation if it is not shared?
I feel like I am digressing. Shall I now tangentially mention the merits of prewriting and drafting? No.
Anyway, this particular post, besides stemming from the aforementioned sermon, is also inspired by my co-worker across the hall. Her kids this semester (and in the past as well, though to a lesser degree) are hellians. They have this sense of entitlement built into their brains that baffles me. I always have to be careful when criticizing the next generation, as they may not be any worse than my own, but really, they seem worse. I would never have talked back to, cussed in front of, or refused to do work for a teacher. However, it is possible that in my WASPy-AP Class bubble, I missed out on the essence of being a teenager (if that essence includes being a huge jerk to everyone but myself).
Maybe if the students could understand that the rules apply to them--that they are not special--then the problems caused by entitled teenagers would subside (though I doubt they could be totally eradicated).
The next post (which I am about to write) will be much more frivolous, I promise.
Valete,
Magistra
I was listening to a sermon the other day, and it was about how we are not special. I liked it.
I have been saying this for years, and no one seems to believe me except other people who work with teenagers. And then, even some of them do not believe me, for reasons which seem extremely pendulumerific, and which I will not elaborate upon in this post, as it promises to be long enough without such annoyances.
How can I, who believes in the Divine touch in man, say that we are not special?
Because, thankfully, we are all kind of the same. Anyone who argues that one is not alone in the world simply cannot believe that people are special. Being special would not allow for a common human experience--the very thing on which the great works of my content area are based. What greater comfort is there than to know that, despite pain or grief or joy or whatever, that one is not alone? that one inevitably shares their state with someone else? that somewhere, someone in the world has endured the same thing and has survived? Not only survived, even, because surivival is not enough. No, they have gone beyond survival into triumph!
I want my students to see this.
I want them to see that they are not special. To be special is to be isolated. To be special is to be alone. Now, one might argue that being alone is good, or that being isolated can lead to excellent thoughts. Just look at Henry David Thoreau. He chose to leave the World and allow himself to grow through his isolation with nature. He produced some of the most studied Transcendentalist literature of anyone else (I am sure there is a joke in here somewhere about how people who study Transcendentalist literature are not alone or something, but I just cannot pull it out today).
And yet, he wrote. He gathered followers of his philosophy. He was not alone. If he truly wanted to be isolated (read: special), he would have refrained from sharing his experience. However, he did what all good thinkers do, and knew what all good thinkers know: that to remove relatability is to remove being human. He may never have expressly said such a thing, but why else share the revelations of isolation? What is the meaning of isolation if it is not shared?
I feel like I am digressing. Shall I now tangentially mention the merits of prewriting and drafting? No.
Anyway, this particular post, besides stemming from the aforementioned sermon, is also inspired by my co-worker across the hall. Her kids this semester (and in the past as well, though to a lesser degree) are hellians. They have this sense of entitlement built into their brains that baffles me. I always have to be careful when criticizing the next generation, as they may not be any worse than my own, but really, they seem worse. I would never have talked back to, cussed in front of, or refused to do work for a teacher. However, it is possible that in my WASPy-AP Class bubble, I missed out on the essence of being a teenager (if that essence includes being a huge jerk to everyone but myself).
Maybe if the students could understand that the rules apply to them--that they are not special--then the problems caused by entitled teenagers would subside (though I doubt they could be totally eradicated).
The next post (which I am about to write) will be much more frivolous, I promise.
Valete,
Magistra
Friday, February 18, 2011
LIE: First is the Worst, Second is the Best
Salvete,
I am here to debunk the lie that first is the worst, second is the best.
First is actually really good. They cooperate, and are quiet. Sure, they are usually half asleep and it is pulling teeth to get them to read, but they get the job done.
Second is not the best.
Second tries me. They have been a challenge all year, as you will see if you read over previous blog posts. Second cannot be quiet. They cannot leave one another alone. They cannot refrain from singing under their breath. I still love them, though. Don't get me wrong.
However, the occasional funny thing happens in the second part of second period. Within second period, First really is the Worst, and Second is indeed the Best. I guess the phrase is not all lie. [Since I wrote this post, we have swapped the kids so that the lie now holds. The world makes sense again.]
(If at some point in all this blogging you missed that my 1.5 hour periods are cut into 45minute periods and the class is halved and I share the kids with my teaching partner, well, it is too complicated to get into here. My partner and I switch kids halfway through the 1.5 hour period, and that is all you need to know.)
Today, one of my students was reading the part of Cassius in Julius Caesar. Halfway through a line, his voice trailed off in the promise of a large glob of something being coughed up. He had the nastiest throat-clear I have ever heard in my life. And, I teach high school, so you know I have heard some nasty throat-clears. The whole class recoiled at the intensity of whatever it was trying to get out of the student's throat. I gagged, noticeably, and tried not to throw up. The kids saw, of course, and laughter proceded for the next 3 minutes. The student himself found the whole event quite entertaining, as I'm sure you can imagine.
The next episode I have to share is not so much funny as flattering/odd.
I sat at my desk as students came in the room during the switch between Special Program and my class. I do not usually feel compelled to get up during this switch, since it is not technically passing period. Anyway, the students came in, and while we waited on the lolly-gaggers, one girl said, "Miss, I don't know how you sit cross-legged on that stool. I went home and tried it, and I can't get it without falling off." For your mental-imaging pleasure: I sit on my stool Indian-style, or with my knees pulled up to my chest (arms wrapped around my shins with heels perched on the front edge of the stool). The stool has no back and a seat no more than 1 foot in diameter, so sitting as mentioned can appear/be precarious. I must admit that I have wondered if any of them marvel at how I can stay balanced on a small stool while thus sitting. Apparently some of them do, and more than one, because another girl said, "I know! How do you sit like that? I wonder every time you sit that way!"
Anyway, we have a long weekend with Monday being President's Day, so I am in good spirits!
Valete,
Magistra
I am here to debunk the lie that first is the worst, second is the best.
First is actually really good. They cooperate, and are quiet. Sure, they are usually half asleep and it is pulling teeth to get them to read, but they get the job done.
Second is not the best.
Second tries me. They have been a challenge all year, as you will see if you read over previous blog posts. Second cannot be quiet. They cannot leave one another alone. They cannot refrain from singing under their breath. I still love them, though. Don't get me wrong.
However, the occasional funny thing happens in the second part of second period. Within second period, First really is the Worst, and Second is indeed the Best. I guess the phrase is not all lie. [Since I wrote this post, we have swapped the kids so that the lie now holds. The world makes sense again.]
(If at some point in all this blogging you missed that my 1.5 hour periods are cut into 45minute periods and the class is halved and I share the kids with my teaching partner, well, it is too complicated to get into here. My partner and I switch kids halfway through the 1.5 hour period, and that is all you need to know.)
Today, one of my students was reading the part of Cassius in Julius Caesar. Halfway through a line, his voice trailed off in the promise of a large glob of something being coughed up. He had the nastiest throat-clear I have ever heard in my life. And, I teach high school, so you know I have heard some nasty throat-clears. The whole class recoiled at the intensity of whatever it was trying to get out of the student's throat. I gagged, noticeably, and tried not to throw up. The kids saw, of course, and laughter proceded for the next 3 minutes. The student himself found the whole event quite entertaining, as I'm sure you can imagine.
The next episode I have to share is not so much funny as flattering/odd.
I sat at my desk as students came in the room during the switch between Special Program and my class. I do not usually feel compelled to get up during this switch, since it is not technically passing period. Anyway, the students came in, and while we waited on the lolly-gaggers, one girl said, "Miss, I don't know how you sit cross-legged on that stool. I went home and tried it, and I can't get it without falling off." For your mental-imaging pleasure: I sit on my stool Indian-style, or with my knees pulled up to my chest (arms wrapped around my shins with heels perched on the front edge of the stool). The stool has no back and a seat no more than 1 foot in diameter, so sitting as mentioned can appear/be precarious. I must admit that I have wondered if any of them marvel at how I can stay balanced on a small stool while thus sitting. Apparently some of them do, and more than one, because another girl said, "I know! How do you sit like that? I wonder every time you sit that way!"
Anyway, we have a long weekend with Monday being President's Day, so I am in good spirits!
Valete,
Magistra
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Miss, You Look Exhausted.
Salvete,
I am exhausted, oh observant-student-who-made-the-title-of-this-post.
I was up here last night until 8PM. When I posted yesterday, I still had two and a half hours to go! WHY?
Today, I had a student come in with his tattoo uncovered. I ask him to cover it every day that he has his long sleeves pushed up. He has never come in here with it showing that I have not asked him to cover it. It's the rules, it's dress code, and there are no two ways about it.
So today, apparently he thought the world had changed and the Code of Conduct had been revised for his benefit. Thankfully, he's a good kid (good=mostly cooperative), and didn't give me any trouble. He left the room, presumably to go attempt to cover the tattoo. When he came back, it was still uncovered, and he sent himself to ISS. I didn't even have to do anything. It was sort of surreal.
Hopefully he showed up to ISS, so that when I call to check on him, there isn't trouble.
What else will this day bring? I may leave early.
Valete,
Magistra
I am exhausted, oh observant-student-who-made-the-title-of-this-post.
I was up here last night until 8PM. When I posted yesterday, I still had two and a half hours to go! WHY?
Today, I had a student come in with his tattoo uncovered. I ask him to cover it every day that he has his long sleeves pushed up. He has never come in here with it showing that I have not asked him to cover it. It's the rules, it's dress code, and there are no two ways about it.
So today, apparently he thought the world had changed and the Code of Conduct had been revised for his benefit. Thankfully, he's a good kid (good=mostly cooperative), and didn't give me any trouble. He left the room, presumably to go attempt to cover the tattoo. When he came back, it was still uncovered, and he sent himself to ISS. I didn't even have to do anything. It was sort of surreal.
Hopefully he showed up to ISS, so that when I call to check on him, there isn't trouble.
What else will this day bring? I may leave early.
Valete,
Magistra
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
I Convinced Someone I Was A 21 Year Old Dentist From Dallas
Salvete,
When you are the Anime Club sponsor, you hear things like the title above.
You also get a headache.
Today has been and will continue to be one of those days that makes me tired. Here is my day.
7:38AM: OH CRAP THERE IS A FACULTY MEETING THIS MORNING? There goes my morning planning time. Thanks for sending the reminder email at 6:40 last night.
8:17AM: I have to teach Julius Caesar today. Let's skip like 200 lines to keep myself sane!
8:18AM: First period, why are you asleep?
10AM: Second period, why can't you go to sleep and leave me alone?
11:12AM: Oh my gosh, it is 11:12 am and I still have 9 hours to go.
11:19AM: Advisory class, why are you so cute? Also, why do I have to teach you how to take an asinine test that you all are going to pass just fine? I say to them, "Let's have a good attitude and make the most of this time!" This is my face ----> :D This is my heart ----> D:
11:39AM: Oh my gosh it is 11:39 am and I still have 8.5 hours to go.
11:50AM Third period, why are you so chatty today? I proceed to yell at third period in a loving way. They proceed to shape up.
12:13PM: OMG IT IS LUNCH AND THERE IS FREE CAKE.
12:45PM: I still have to teach 3rd period Julius Caesar for another hour. Of all his plays, why are Sophomores forced to read this one? Also, why am I forced to teach Shakespeare and to pretend to like it?
1:58PM: It's time for duty! "WALK AND TALK" with a smile. It works every time to get those hoodlums moving in the hallway.
2:07PM: I approach my room and see one of my former students standing in the hall. He got sent out of his class (which happens to be across the hall from mine). Here's our conversation:
Me: Why are you not in class?
Him: I got sent out. <3 ^^ :) :) :)
Me: Are you giving Mrs. --- trouble?
Him: NO OF COURSE NOT! <3 ^^ :) :) :) (At this point, Mrs. --- leans out her door)
Me: Let me guess. Talking, not in your seat, bugging other students?
Him: *silence* O.o
Mrs. ---: He also decided to use profanity.
I give the student THE HAND and THE HEAD SHAKE and walk away listening to his apologetic protests. I hope Mrs. --- dealt with him appropriately.
*Edit: I was looking over old blog posts, and this is the same child mentioned in the Testes post.*
2:09PM: OMG LESS THAN 1.5 HOURS UNTIL ANIME CLUB WTFLOLSAVEME.
2:30PM: Hey, maybe I can get out of the MEETING THAT I HAVE FROM 6:30-8 tonight. I will go upstairs and see if I can weasel/lie/deceive my way out of having to attend.
2:33PM: I have failed, and now I must attend the meeting. I am a pathetic weasel.
3PM: I will sit in my room and prepare myself mentally for Anime Club. It really is that taxing.
BREAKING NEWS I JUST SAW THE WEIRDEST KID IN ANIME CLUB TOTALLY BLOW OFF THE THIRD WEIRDEST KID IN ANIME CLUB! (The second weirdest kid isn't here today.) WHAT DOES IT MEAN??
3:30PM: The bell rings...and they open the door immediately. Impossible. But true. In they come, with their stench and noise.
3:31PM: OMG ANIME CLUB AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
5:37PM: Here I sit. It is 5:37 PM. Two and a half hours to go. The Anime Club kids are still here. 23 minutes until they leave.
5:43PM: OMG I HAVE ANOTHER MEETING TO ATTEND FROM 6:30 to 8.
Another meeting. Another meeting. Save me...
Valete...
Magistra...
When you are the Anime Club sponsor, you hear things like the title above.
You also get a headache.
Today has been and will continue to be one of those days that makes me tired. Here is my day.
7:38AM: OH CRAP THERE IS A FACULTY MEETING THIS MORNING? There goes my morning planning time. Thanks for sending the reminder email at 6:40 last night.
8:17AM: I have to teach Julius Caesar today. Let's skip like 200 lines to keep myself sane!
8:18AM: First period, why are you asleep?
10AM: Second period, why can't you go to sleep and leave me alone?
11:12AM: Oh my gosh, it is 11:12 am and I still have 9 hours to go.
11:19AM: Advisory class, why are you so cute? Also, why do I have to teach you how to take an asinine test that you all are going to pass just fine? I say to them, "Let's have a good attitude and make the most of this time!" This is my face ----> :D This is my heart ----> D:
11:39AM: Oh my gosh it is 11:39 am and I still have 8.5 hours to go.
11:50AM Third period, why are you so chatty today? I proceed to yell at third period in a loving way. They proceed to shape up.
12:13PM: OMG IT IS LUNCH AND THERE IS FREE CAKE.
12:45PM: I still have to teach 3rd period Julius Caesar for another hour. Of all his plays, why are Sophomores forced to read this one? Also, why am I forced to teach Shakespeare and to pretend to like it?
1:58PM: It's time for duty! "WALK AND TALK" with a smile. It works every time to get those hoodlums moving in the hallway.
2:07PM: I approach my room and see one of my former students standing in the hall. He got sent out of his class (which happens to be across the hall from mine). Here's our conversation:
Me: Why are you not in class?
Him: I got sent out. <3 ^^ :) :) :)
Me: Are you giving Mrs. --- trouble?
Him: NO OF COURSE NOT! <3 ^^ :) :) :) (At this point, Mrs. --- leans out her door)
Me: Let me guess. Talking, not in your seat, bugging other students?
Him: *silence* O.o
Mrs. ---: He also decided to use profanity.
I give the student THE HAND and THE HEAD SHAKE and walk away listening to his apologetic protests. I hope Mrs. --- dealt with him appropriately.
*Edit: I was looking over old blog posts, and this is the same child mentioned in the Testes post.*
2:09PM: OMG LESS THAN 1.5 HOURS UNTIL ANIME CLUB WTFLOLSAVEME.
2:30PM: Hey, maybe I can get out of the MEETING THAT I HAVE FROM 6:30-8 tonight. I will go upstairs and see if I can weasel/lie/deceive my way out of having to attend.
2:33PM: I have failed, and now I must attend the meeting. I am a pathetic weasel.
3PM: I will sit in my room and prepare myself mentally for Anime Club. It really is that taxing.
BREAKING NEWS I JUST SAW THE WEIRDEST KID IN ANIME CLUB TOTALLY BLOW OFF THE THIRD WEIRDEST KID IN ANIME CLUB! (The second weirdest kid isn't here today.) WHAT DOES IT MEAN??
3:30PM: The bell rings...and they open the door immediately. Impossible. But true. In they come, with their stench and noise.
3:31PM: OMG ANIME CLUB AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
5:37PM: Here I sit. It is 5:37 PM. Two and a half hours to go. The Anime Club kids are still here. 23 minutes until they leave.
5:43PM: OMG I HAVE ANOTHER MEETING TO ATTEND FROM 6:30 to 8.
Another meeting. Another meeting. Save me...
Valete...
Magistra...
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
I'm Only Sleeping, Take One.
Salvete,
It's 7am. I've been awake a while. Title song here.
Naturally, I did not have to be awake. It is a snow day. Perhaps this post might have been better entitled, "Let It Snow," as I feel that might be the holiest of prayers right now. Some people might dislike being cooped up in the house. It is my favorite thing at this moment.
I am, however, pleased with myself for going to the grocery store before Blizzaga IV hit my town.
I could go into the usual rant about how Texans cannot drive in the ice, etc. However, I would not know if they can or cannot, because you will not catch me outside of my house if it is below freezing (generally). I will go to work, I suppose, if forced, but I will do it as quickly as possible, thus making it more difficult for one to catch me being out of doors in sub-30 degree temperatures.
There exists a distinct masochistic pleasure in losing sleep on my days off. On days when I have to get up to go to work, I cannot drag my sorry self out of bed. On days when I do not have to get up until the next day, I find myself awake at the unholy hour of [omitted for its shock factor of earliness]. Now, do not misunderstand me. I enjoy a good sleep-in as much as the next mid-twenties female. The pleasure lies in knowing that I am using the minutes, enjoying the moments, savoring the seconds when I could have been at work. If I am asleep, how can I experience that joy? I would be asleep, people! If awake, regardless of how early, I am soaking up the brilliant fact that I do not have to be up and that I do not have to face the world.
What a lark! What a plunge!
Though I might counter Virginia and her Mrs. Dalloway with the inestimable Bilbo Baggins, when he says, "It's dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door. You step into the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to."
At present, I do not care to be swept off, as I find myself happily entangled in my own mind.
Enjoy your day off, should you read this and have one.
And if you did not have a day off, as I know some of you did not, revel in the fact that you have something consistent in your life to cling to no matter what happens. I am not sure that is an entirely comforting thought, but maybe it will help ease the pain of being freaking freezing cold on your way out the door.
Valete,
Magistra
It's 7am. I've been awake a while. Title song here.
Naturally, I did not have to be awake. It is a snow day. Perhaps this post might have been better entitled, "Let It Snow," as I feel that might be the holiest of prayers right now. Some people might dislike being cooped up in the house. It is my favorite thing at this moment.
I am, however, pleased with myself for going to the grocery store before Blizzaga IV hit my town.
I could go into the usual rant about how Texans cannot drive in the ice, etc. However, I would not know if they can or cannot, because you will not catch me outside of my house if it is below freezing (generally). I will go to work, I suppose, if forced, but I will do it as quickly as possible, thus making it more difficult for one to catch me being out of doors in sub-30 degree temperatures.
There exists a distinct masochistic pleasure in losing sleep on my days off. On days when I have to get up to go to work, I cannot drag my sorry self out of bed. On days when I do not have to get up until the next day, I find myself awake at the unholy hour of [omitted for its shock factor of earliness]. Now, do not misunderstand me. I enjoy a good sleep-in as much as the next mid-twenties female. The pleasure lies in knowing that I am using the minutes, enjoying the moments, savoring the seconds when I could have been at work. If I am asleep, how can I experience that joy? I would be asleep, people! If awake, regardless of how early, I am soaking up the brilliant fact that I do not have to be up and that I do not have to face the world.
What a lark! What a plunge!
Though I might counter Virginia and her Mrs. Dalloway with the inestimable Bilbo Baggins, when he says, "It's dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door. You step into the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to."
At present, I do not care to be swept off, as I find myself happily entangled in my own mind.
Enjoy your day off, should you read this and have one.
And if you did not have a day off, as I know some of you did not, revel in the fact that you have something consistent in your life to cling to no matter what happens. I am not sure that is an entirely comforting thought, but maybe it will help ease the pain of being freaking freezing cold on your way out the door.
Valete,
Magistra
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