Thick as Thieves

Yesterday, when it became clear that certain of my students were stealing the keys from the laptop computers, I was supremely irritated.  Six out of fifteen were missing one or more of their keys. Of course, I took immediate measures, signing out each computer and checking it back in at the beginning and end of each class, but I felt resentful that the kids were being cheated out of those five minutes of productive writing time.

Today, I had a heart to heart with a few of my classes. "Be honest," I said, "and speak from the point of view of someone who has stolen something. Why did you do it?"

Some kids confessed to taking things because they wanted them-- they were attracted to the shiny and cool and so they took whatever it was for themselves. Maybe a computer key qualifies as that; I don't know. Most kids, though, admitted to stealing from their siblings or other relatives specifically to hurt those people or make them angry. For them, it was personal.

One of my students adamantly told me that it was my fault for trusting them. She practically mocked me for my naive disappointment. "Face it," she said, "you should have checked up on us more."

I refuse to adopt her level of cynicism, but after hearing their stories, I feel like I do have to accept some of the responsibility for creating an atmosphere where such a thing would happen. That kind of vandalism is a symptom of disregard for our classroom community and lack of respect for me as the authority of that group, and that's on me.

Where Did YOU Come From?

My students are going to write fiction next, and I'm working on a fiction piece, too. I wrote a little of it today to bring to my writing group. I have about 1000 words about a boy named Ned and his mother. They are working as the cooks on a ship, which is something I have a little experience with. Anyway, as I finished the bit that I was working on for tonight, I had a realization about the main character, something I did not know until a few minutes ago.

No matter how many times I read or hear authors tell about how their characters take on lives of their own and literally reveal themselves to the writer, it just seems like so much mumbo jumbo until it happens to me. And THEN it seems almost spooky, like communicating with the Ouija board or something.

Let's just say it definitely puts the spirit in inspiration.

Eye Witness

As the memoir unit draws to a close, I find it notable that this year for the first time ever, four students, in two different classes, wrote about the same incident. It seems that there was a big fight between two girls on the elementary school playground last year, and the kids are still talking about it all these months later. Mind you, neither of the fighters even goes to our school, but the indelible image of the one dragging the other's face through the mud was promoted along with the memoirists. Add to that all the kids who saw the fight but are writing about something else, and the topic has become a bit of a sensation-- even kids who didn't go to that school have an opinion about whether or not Lydia was justified in attacking Claire.

For the most part, the writing on these memoirs is quite good, but it is the discrepancies in the different accounts of this event, which they all saw with their own eyes, which are fascinating. Was it a torn scarf or some defaced shoes that set them off? Who was the first adult on the scene and what did she do? Was it fair for the principal to blame the whole fifth grade for allowing the fight to go on without intervention? What consequences did the girls receive?

Who knows? It sure makes a good story, though.

Rain Maker

This afternoon marked the debut of our new school mascot. We have long been the yellow jackets, and we have a pretty good cheerleading squad, but we have never had an actual mascot until today. They held auditions a week ago, and a lot of sixth graders went out for the chance to wear the cute plush costume and entertain the crowd at home games. They chose six kids to make sure someone was always available, and three of the six are in my class.

The occasion of the Yellow Jacket's premiere was the last home game for the girls basketball team. Before the tip off, there was a ceremony honoring the eighth graders; the coach presented them with flowers and thanked them for their dedication. I watched the poignant moment from the stands, remembering those girls as sixth graders not so very long ago. I knew that they had never won a home game in their three years on the team, and I wished them well.

Wow. Maybe it was the mascot; maybe it was simple pride; maybe it was both, but those girls came out playing harder than I've ever seen. The atmosphere was fun-- the mascot was awesome and the fans were behind the team all the way, and in a super-close game with a fairy tale ending, they won it by one point. Yay!

Crazy Hearts

The kids were very excited about Valentine's Day today-- more so than in recent years, I think. Certainly I received more candy and cards than usual. One student also presented me with a flower she had made out of duct tape-- it was pretty impressive, and it will definitely stay in my curio collection for a while.

Right before lunch, I looked up to find another student mouthing words at me and giggling. I squinted at him and then raised my eye brows. That cheeky boy raised his brows right back at me and continued on with his sweet nothings. Fortunately, I had been tipped off about this prank earlier in the day. "Olive Juice to you, too," I answered him.

Never Mind

Today on the phone my sister told me a funny story about how disappointed her kids were when the attendants at the valet parking weren't wearing tutus and dance slippers. It made me think of Emily Litella-- What's all this about... violins on TV? The deaf penalty? Conserving our natural race horses? Youth in Asia?

It also reminded me of how excited I was on the first day of second grade when our teacher told us we were going to the laboratory, and then how confused when we ended up at the bathroom.

Thaw

The trail down to Raccoon Creek was muddy from all the melted snow. Fifty degrees in February was a welcome break from our recent frosty weather and so we decided to take a walk at a nearby wildlife refuge. The pale sun was not quite warm in the shadeless winter woods, but we had them and the blue, blue sky to ourselves all the way down to the creek, unless you count the woodpeckers and robins as company. (Welcome back, robins!)

Once at the water, we saw a couple gulls and a bald eagle, and when we made it to the marsh, we were greeted by hundreds of tundra swans wintering in the wetlands. Some of the big white birds were clamoring, some were foraging, some were basking in the buttery sunshine, and some doing that graceful swan swimming thing. It was surreal and beautiful and a little hard to turn away from, but the days are still short and so we headed back.