Salvete,
We haven't had Anime Club in a few weeks due to the wedding. I thought I missed it.
I didn't.
The kids have gotten the bright idea to do something besides watch anime. And so. We are having a brainstorming session. (Game-show voice...commence!) What other ideas can we come up with besides watching anime? Let's find out!
1. "Let's do something like Anime Idol except not singing!"
2. "Let's play games!" "That's too general!"
a. Anime Chess
b. Anime Clue
c. Anime Dancing
d. Anime Theater Endeavor
3. Anime picture of the week!
4. Anime's Best Dance Crew
5. Anime's Got Talent
6. Magicians
7. David Hasselhoff
8. Pokemon battle using action figures or cards
9. Summer meetings (kaiboshed immediately)
10. Anime Club Twitter
11. Yahoo Group
12. Anime potluck
13. Art contests (already were doing but stopped happening)
It sort of degenerated into meaninglessness in the middle, but our officers brought it back. Here is how they did it.
1. Singing random snippits of songs (this was often)
2. Rick rolling
3. Kitty dancy thing
4. Chicken dance (current moment)
5. "OY!"
6. Grapevine
7. Reading "Biff, Willy, Linda, Happy" off of the Death of a Salesman poster at the back of the room
8. Weirdo noises which turned out to be big words said really quickly
What joy is mine. One of the students has a staticky verson of "Smooth Criminal" as performed by Alien Ant Farm blasting on her cell phone. They've all congregated at the front of the room to write their names on an Anime Club Contact List. I'm done giving you a play-by-play, because I can't keep up with the chaos. I may have to find something to do outside of the room while they finish the meeting.
At least they bring candy ever week.
Valete,
Magistra.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Hamburgers at Bicyclers
Salvete...
I just have to remind myself that I'm working with teenagers. Here is a story, told to me by a friend, about an experience with teenagers she had in college. That makes it sound like I was told this recently. She actually told it to me like three days after it happened, and that was about two years ago. Considering the length of time since I heard the story, forgive any inaccuracies.
Anyway, without further ado...
Once upon a time, L was riding her bike to campus. A car, containing two or so teenagers, drove by her. All of a sudden, L was struck by a hamburger. Yes. A hamburger. Ketchup, Mustard, and All.
L, now dirtied with such accoutrements of fast food as are appropriate to being hit with a hamburger by a passing vehicle, filled with rage. However, unable to do anything, continued riding her bike to campus. Behind her, she hears a car. Yes. You guessed it. The same car. Equipped with another hamburger.
Struck again, L filled with rage. The car in question reached the end of the block (a busy intersection) and had to stop sooner than the driver could have hoped. L was able to catch the vehicle, and approached the window. She told the teenager, through the window, that she was going to call the cops. She went to the back of the car, wrote down the license plate, and went on her way.
Those people in the car are the people I work with every day. Here's to you, L.
Valete,
Magistra
I just have to remind myself that I'm working with teenagers. Here is a story, told to me by a friend, about an experience with teenagers she had in college. That makes it sound like I was told this recently. She actually told it to me like three days after it happened, and that was about two years ago. Considering the length of time since I heard the story, forgive any inaccuracies.
Anyway, without further ado...
Once upon a time, L was riding her bike to campus. A car, containing two or so teenagers, drove by her. All of a sudden, L was struck by a hamburger. Yes. A hamburger. Ketchup, Mustard, and All.
L, now dirtied with such accoutrements of fast food as are appropriate to being hit with a hamburger by a passing vehicle, filled with rage. However, unable to do anything, continued riding her bike to campus. Behind her, she hears a car. Yes. You guessed it. The same car. Equipped with another hamburger.
Struck again, L filled with rage. The car in question reached the end of the block (a busy intersection) and had to stop sooner than the driver could have hoped. L was able to catch the vehicle, and approached the window. She told the teenager, through the window, that she was going to call the cops. She went to the back of the car, wrote down the license plate, and went on her way.
Those people in the car are the people I work with every day. Here's to you, L.
Valete,
Magistra
Friday, March 26, 2010
Well, to be fair, that's a big leaf.
Salvete!
Mid-terms are over, thank goodness. A child stayed after school for thirty minutes to finish twenty questions. The test was challenging, but it wasn't hard if you studied. Clearly the student didn't study.
So, now that the weekend has started, my reverie has begun. I am gaming, and the following conversation just happened while fighting these little things called Mandragora. See link for onion reference. In game, my character is really tiny, about the same size as the Mandragora (comes up to your mid-thigh, if that). There are five races to choose from, and the race I chose, Tarutaru, is the smallest (and therefore, cutest). Her name is Cumaea, and my love's name is Gouka. The other people are friends from the game.
Cumaea: he's bigger than me
Ryukashin: everything is bigger than you lol
Cumaea: that leaf is bigger than me
Mochalatte: he's an onion
Gouka: well, to be fair, that's a big leaf
Cumaea: i meant the tree leaf
Gouka: i know
Mochalatte: he's a baby tree
There are about three different threads of conversation going on there. I had to laugh when this went down, so I had to put it in here for your enjoyment. I know it just made me about 1000 times geekier in the eyes of the world, but I'm not sure the world reads this blog, so I don't mind.
Valete,
Magistra
Mid-terms are over, thank goodness. A child stayed after school for thirty minutes to finish twenty questions. The test was challenging, but it wasn't hard if you studied. Clearly the student didn't study.
So, now that the weekend has started, my reverie has begun. I am gaming, and the following conversation just happened while fighting these little things called Mandragora. See link for onion reference. In game, my character is really tiny, about the same size as the Mandragora (comes up to your mid-thigh, if that). There are five races to choose from, and the race I chose, Tarutaru, is the smallest (and therefore, cutest). Her name is Cumaea, and my love's name is Gouka. The other people are friends from the game.
Cumaea: he's bigger than me
Ryukashin: everything is bigger than you lol
Cumaea: that leaf is bigger than me
Mochalatte: he's an onion
Gouka: well, to be fair, that's a big leaf
Cumaea: i meant the tree leaf
Gouka: i know
Mochalatte: he's a baby tree
There are about three different threads of conversation going on there. I had to laugh when this went down, so I had to put it in here for your enjoyment. I know it just made me about 1000 times geekier in the eyes of the world, but I'm not sure the world reads this blog, so I don't mind.
Valete,
Magistra
9 weeks in.
Salvete!
That's right! We are nine weeks into the third nine-weeks. So really, it has been eleven weeks since we came back from Christmas break (I see the word eleven, and always think "elvan"). In my district, the last day of midterms or finals is always a half day for the kids, and a late two-hour lunch break for the teachers. The lunch break is usually so late that coming back up to the building is pointless. I'm sure you get the idea.
In addition to the half day, students go to their third period classes first thing in the morning. As you can imagine, high schoolers struggle with this idea. Being like puppies, they get in the routine of going here first, there second. Any change in their routine causes great emotional distress (what doesn't cause great emotional distress for a teenager?). A student who normally has first period in my room walked in this morning. I greeted him without a second thought (teachers get in routines, too). He walked back out, looking confused. He didn't recognize any of the students in the room (my third period students). I realized both of our mistake, and sent him on his way.
Having students first thing in the morning is something of a challenge for me. For some reason, last year, when school started at 7:25, I was able to be chipper. This year, having first period as my conference, I have become a real afternoon person. I warned third period that I would be a different animal come Friday morning when they walked in. I warned them that I am quite grouchy in the morning, and not to cross me, on threat of death (or something). Incredibly, they took me seriously, and have been angels, else they themselves are still asleep, which is a distinct possibility. I really am grouchy, just not as grouchy as I let on I would be.
Thus far in the morning, little else has gone on. Mid-term time is usually quite subdued, as most of the students take them seriously, and understand that I will give them a zero if they should be caught cheating (I totally would).
I'll let you know if anything else goes awry.
As I typed that last statement, a student raised its hand. "My scantron is off by one, and I don't know where I got off," it said. "Well, you have lots of time left in class, so that's a good thing," I replied. So cruel.
Valete,
Magistra
That's right! We are nine weeks into the third nine-weeks. So really, it has been eleven weeks since we came back from Christmas break (I see the word eleven, and always think "elvan"). In my district, the last day of midterms or finals is always a half day for the kids, and a late two-hour lunch break for the teachers. The lunch break is usually so late that coming back up to the building is pointless. I'm sure you get the idea.
In addition to the half day, students go to their third period classes first thing in the morning. As you can imagine, high schoolers struggle with this idea. Being like puppies, they get in the routine of going here first, there second. Any change in their routine causes great emotional distress (what doesn't cause great emotional distress for a teenager?). A student who normally has first period in my room walked in this morning. I greeted him without a second thought (teachers get in routines, too). He walked back out, looking confused. He didn't recognize any of the students in the room (my third period students). I realized both of our mistake, and sent him on his way.
Having students first thing in the morning is something of a challenge for me. For some reason, last year, when school started at 7:25, I was able to be chipper. This year, having first period as my conference, I have become a real afternoon person. I warned third period that I would be a different animal come Friday morning when they walked in. I warned them that I am quite grouchy in the morning, and not to cross me, on threat of death (or something). Incredibly, they took me seriously, and have been angels, else they themselves are still asleep, which is a distinct possibility. I really am grouchy, just not as grouchy as I let on I would be.
Thus far in the morning, little else has gone on. Mid-term time is usually quite subdued, as most of the students take them seriously, and understand that I will give them a zero if they should be caught cheating (I totally would).
I'll let you know if anything else goes awry.
As I typed that last statement, a student raised its hand. "My scantron is off by one, and I don't know where I got off," it said. "Well, you have lots of time left in class, so that's a good thing," I replied. So cruel.
Valete,
Magistra
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
It's almost time to go: I need tape.
Salvete!
What will happen today in Magistra's classroom? Through the various periods, the children have been up to no good.
A group of three students in third period has decided to see what they can get away with without me noticing. None of their activities are dangerous or ill-intended, but instead are of the gambling nature. How long can I stand behind the tall metal cabinet blowing my nose until Magistra notices? How long can I sit on the floor after the bell before Magistra says something? What happens if I ask Magistra for a hug? At the moment, I find their shenanigans somewhat amusing, but I'm not sure how long I will tolerate them.
The title of the post is the quote of the day. Towards the end of first period, a child approached my desk, and said, "It's almost time to go: I need tape." I just moved on with my day, hoping that the tape would be used for some sort of communal good, intended to occur soon after the student's departure from the classroom.
Fourth period's strangeness is less severe. A student held up a ball made of masking tape. "Miss, look at my tape ball." Clearly, the child has far too much time in art class. I told him it was interesting in such a way that he would know that I was not interested. Naturally, he had to toss it to another student, at which point I had to threaten to confiscate it. I love baby-sitting.
I had made a list of things that happened today. As so often occurs with my note-taking, I wrote down some key words which I later forgot what they meant. The word at the top of the list was "Easter." I'm sure whatever scenario inspired the note was very funny, but it is lost forever.
Valete!
Magistra
What will happen today in Magistra's classroom? Through the various periods, the children have been up to no good.
A group of three students in third period has decided to see what they can get away with without me noticing. None of their activities are dangerous or ill-intended, but instead are of the gambling nature. How long can I stand behind the tall metal cabinet blowing my nose until Magistra notices? How long can I sit on the floor after the bell before Magistra says something? What happens if I ask Magistra for a hug? At the moment, I find their shenanigans somewhat amusing, but I'm not sure how long I will tolerate them.
The title of the post is the quote of the day. Towards the end of first period, a child approached my desk, and said, "It's almost time to go: I need tape." I just moved on with my day, hoping that the tape would be used for some sort of communal good, intended to occur soon after the student's departure from the classroom.
Fourth period's strangeness is less severe. A student held up a ball made of masking tape. "Miss, look at my tape ball." Clearly, the child has far too much time in art class. I told him it was interesting in such a way that he would know that I was not interested. Naturally, he had to toss it to another student, at which point I had to threaten to confiscate it. I love baby-sitting.
I had made a list of things that happened today. As so often occurs with my note-taking, I wrote down some key words which I later forgot what they meant. The word at the top of the list was "Easter." I'm sure whatever scenario inspired the note was very funny, but it is lost forever.
Valete!
Magistra
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Then fall, Caesar.
Salvete!
Twice in one day? No, it isn't the apocolypse.
What have we learned about the comical situation regarding the sleeping/standing student? That if you torture a student and then they walk out, it makes more work for you.
I already knew this lesson, but review never hurts.
I had no intention of writing up the student, but here is what happened:
The student went to the assistant principal's office, as he said he would. Fabulous. Rather than calling me and requesting a prompt office referral, the office let him sit in there and briefly talk with the assistant principal. After school, the student came back to me. I asked him what happened, and he told me the above. I called the office assistant to verify, to discover that what he told me was true. The assistant asked that I fill out an office referral for the student's act of walking out. I know the referral is the right course of action, but the student is the one who referred himself to the office, so he should have to write the referral. I've made a student fill out his/her own office referral before, but it slipped my mind until I had time to sit down and contemplate on this blog.
Oh well. As I said, review never hurts. I have to go put this in the assistant principal's box now.
Valete,
Magistra
Twice in one day? No, it isn't the apocolypse.
What have we learned about the comical situation regarding the sleeping/standing student? That if you torture a student and then they walk out, it makes more work for you.
I already knew this lesson, but review never hurts.
I had no intention of writing up the student, but here is what happened:
The student went to the assistant principal's office, as he said he would. Fabulous. Rather than calling me and requesting a prompt office referral, the office let him sit in there and briefly talk with the assistant principal. After school, the student came back to me. I asked him what happened, and he told me the above. I called the office assistant to verify, to discover that what he told me was true. The assistant asked that I fill out an office referral for the student's act of walking out. I know the referral is the right course of action, but the student is the one who referred himself to the office, so he should have to write the referral. I've made a student fill out his/her own office referral before, but it slipped my mind until I had time to sit down and contemplate on this blog.
Oh well. As I said, review never hurts. I have to go put this in the assistant principal's box now.
Valete,
Magistra
Et tu, Brute?
Salvete!
We're reading Julius Caesar at the moment. If you don't know, Caesar was a real person, but Shakespeare also knows how to take the artistic license, so to speak. Sure, it isn't the most interesting play that the Texas State Board of Educators could have chosen, but it isn't the worst. We could be reading the Henry plays, the which I was supposed to read in college. I, of course, did not read them, but took my chances. I would never encourage my students to do such a thing, though sometimes such a thing is the best thing to do.
Friends, Romans, countrymen! Lend me your ears!
To my right, on the opposite side of the room, a student is standing up. Why? Because he sleeps every day, and I've had quite enough of that. The student's chief complaint in having to stand up is that he fears all the blood will rush to his legs. Perhaps the statement was made in jest, perhaps not. It is hard to tell with this one. Anyway, he's having to stand for about thirty minutes, which is certainly in his best interest, per my observations. What have we learned from this? Don't sleep, or Magistra will make you stand up far from any apparatus on which to lean.
HAHAHA! He just walked out, opting to go to the office rather than stand up and pay attention. Do you know what I said? I said, "See you tomorrow!"
Valete,
Magistra
We're reading Julius Caesar at the moment. If you don't know, Caesar was a real person, but Shakespeare also knows how to take the artistic license, so to speak. Sure, it isn't the most interesting play that the Texas State Board of Educators could have chosen, but it isn't the worst. We could be reading the Henry plays, the which I was supposed to read in college. I, of course, did not read them, but took my chances. I would never encourage my students to do such a thing, though sometimes such a thing is the best thing to do.
Friends, Romans, countrymen! Lend me your ears!
To my right, on the opposite side of the room, a student is standing up. Why? Because he sleeps every day, and I've had quite enough of that. The student's chief complaint in having to stand up is that he fears all the blood will rush to his legs. Perhaps the statement was made in jest, perhaps not. It is hard to tell with this one. Anyway, he's having to stand for about thirty minutes, which is certainly in his best interest, per my observations. What have we learned from this? Don't sleep, or Magistra will make you stand up far from any apparatus on which to lean.
HAHAHA! He just walked out, opting to go to the office rather than stand up and pay attention. Do you know what I said? I said, "See you tomorrow!"
Valete,
Magistra
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