Where Everyone is Above Average

I gave a word study quiz today that my students did verrrrry well on. This particular assessment is quick to grade, and I was able to share results with each class.

"You should grade us on a curve!" one student merrily suggested. (He had earned a 100%) The rest of the kids in his class had no idea what he was talking about.

"Well," I explained, "it's a way of grading where you take the average of all the scores and make that a C."

Furrowed brows all around.

"How would that work with this quiz?" another student asked.

"The average is 92," I told him. "That would be a C." There were audible gasps as I continued. "96 is a B, 100 an A."

"But what about 91?" someone wondered.

"D," I replied, "and anything below 88 fails."

Stunned silence fell over the room.

"Or we could all have As and Bs," sang the first student, and that was settled.

What's Up Duck Butt?

What indeed?

Hold the Acorns

Yesterday my colleague's seven-year-old daughter danced into my room with her arms bent straight up from the elbows. I put worms in my bed, and I slept in my bed, I put a squirrel in my bed and mustard in my bed, then I ate it all... Is that bad? she sang.

I recognized it as a song that Kristen Wiig's freaky character Dooneese sings, and decided to play along. "Nice," I applauded. "What did the squirrel taste like?"

My guest was silent.

"Have you ever really eaten a squirrel?" I asked her. "Because I have!" (Click here for that story.)

She didn't answer, but her eyes got wide. "It tasted kind of like pot roast," I told her. 

She ran back to her mom's room, and they both returned a few minutes later. "Dakota wants me to tell you that she didn't really eat a squirrel," her mom said. "It was just a song from Saturday Night Live."

"Oh, too bad," I said to Dakota as she peaked out from behind her mom. "Well, let me know if you ever want to give it a try!"

OLW 2014

Over at Two Writing Teachers they have been choosing One Little Word for the last several years. The idea is to find a single word that expresses something you will work toward in the coming year.

I think it's a neat concept, and this is the seventh year that I've asked my students to do this, too. The assignment is for them to choose a word and then write a paragraph explaining why they want more of this in their lives.

Here are the choices so far for this year, several were chosen by more than one person:

family
love
spirited
focus
green
grades
learn
complete
patience
change
procrastination
believe
peace
tolerance
complete
awesome
lively
smart

and one student chose her last name with this explanation:

This will let me be friendly and funny (traits of a typical member of my family). I will have thousands of kind friends and we will be strong together.

More than anything else, I was struck by the positivity and enthusiasm my students have for the year ahead. In the exact words of several? 2014 is going to be a great year!

It's kind of nice to work with so many optimists.

Magic Box

Before the holidays, a friend of mine who works on the Tolerance Club with me presented all of us sponsors with beautiful little round boxes fashioned from handmade paper and festooned with colorful peace signs. Inside there was a little bundle of paper slips, and inked on each was a meditation word.

When the usual rowdy writers (or non-writers as the case may be) showed up for writing club today, most of them crowded around one table, and with lap tops open proceded to talk over each other, loudly. A few minutes in, I called them individually to my desk and had them each draw a slip of paper from my pretty green box. The challenge was to use the word or concept in their writing.

It was funny when the first student pulled stillness from the box, because she happens to be the most manic of them all. Next the resident griper chose gratitude. Mr. Unfocused got mindfulness, and the girl who never seems to question that things will go her way chose hope. Their brows furrowed. The student who always wants more-- more snacks, more school supplies, more writing, you name it-- pulled out contentment. The newest member who seems to quietly suffer through the mayhem chose patience, and the guy who sits all by himself and has for a while ended up with forgiveness.

Did it make a difference? Not really, or rather, who knows? That's a lot of bullseyes for a little green box; perhaps there were a few other repercussions as well.

Afternoon Light

At this time of year, right around 4 PM, the sun streams directly into my classroom window. Facing west with the leaves gone from the birches outside, for 20 minutes or so, until the sun drops behind the low-rise apartment building across the way, I am washed in direct, and I mean direct, sunlight. It wouldn't be out of line to put on a pair of shades.

I'm usually alone in my room at the time, but colleagues who happen to enter often cover their eyes or turn their backs to the light. Some even ask if I would like for them to drop the blinds. I thank them and decline, because those blinds are drawn all the way up in response to a promise I made to my students four years ago. Then, we had just survived a very inconvenient renovation together; one that required packing up everything and moving to "swing space" and back, mostly in order to provide more and bigger windows to the building. When we returned to the room the view was indeed remarkable, and in addition to moving my desk away from the window, I agreed to always let in as much light as possible.

Maybe these brilliant moments are a kind of acknowledgement for trying to be responsive to my students. Who knows? It's impossible to look directly into the light, but I do close my eyes, raise my face, feel the warmth, and let it shine.

Glad You Could Make It

The near-record cold temperatures provoked a delayed opening for us this morning, but our pleasure at sleeping in was nearly dashed when we awoke at seven to the realization that our power was out. Having no contingency for showers, hot coffee, or even juice, we lay abed strategizing.

Fortunately a neighbor soon texted to confirm that she was not the only one without electricity, and she advised us to report our outage to the power company right away, which we did. It was impossible, or at least impractical to stay in bed forever, and once downstairs, we were alarmed at how cold it had already become. I put in for a substitute, planning to build a fire and hunker down with the cat and the dog until our power was restored. 

That happened at 8:30 AM with no fanfare whatsoever, and so I scrambled to cancel the sub and proceed with a speed version of my usual morning routine. Thirty minutes later, I was showered and dressed (warmly, of course), lunches were packed, the recycling was at the curb, AND the dog had pooped, but my sub job was still active, since no one was answering the phone at school. I figured I would just have to take care of that when I got to work.

My first stop on arrival was the main office where they were busy strategizing, too, trying to use the limited substitutes they had to cover all the open periods. The secretary looked up as I entered, and her face brightened considerably. "You're here!" she cried gratefully.

"Yep," I said, "and I like your enthusiasm! Can I get this greeting every day?"