"Will you give me candy if I get a perfect score on this reading log?" a student asked today.
I glanced at his log and shook my head. "You won't get a perfect score," I told him, "because you didn't capitalize the titles of the books you read."
My intention was for him to correct his error, but that didn't happen. "I'm going to get someone else to check it," he said.
"It will still be incorrect," I replied.
"He won't see it," he assured me.
"But, I know it's wrong," I reminded him. "Remember me? The one who records the grades?"
"So no candy?" he asked rhetorically.
I nodded. "And capitalize those titles, would ya?"
I glanced at his log and shook my head. "You won't get a perfect score," I told him, "because you didn't capitalize the titles of the books you read."
My intention was for him to correct his error, but that didn't happen. "I'm going to get someone else to check it," he said.
"It will still be incorrect," I replied.
"He won't see it," he assured me.
"But, I know it's wrong," I reminded him. "Remember me? The one who records the grades?"
"So no candy?" he asked rhetorically.
I nodded. "And capitalize those titles, would ya?"
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