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