For Want of a Pencil

It's a tough call.

We want our students to be responsible and bring the supplies they need to class, BUT we also want them to do the work. What does a stubborn teacher accomplish when she refuses to provide a pencil to a student without? Most of the time it's just a kid sitting there doing nothing, usually distracting others, because, let's face it, if they want to do the work? They'll find a pencil.

On the other hand, if we just give pencils out whenever someone doesn't have one, not many kids will see the need to bring one. What kind of life lesson is that?

These days, my strategy is to provide but inform. When someone asks for a pencil more than once or twice, I hand it over, but I also email their parents. In general, it works, and in fact just yesterday I got the best reply ever:

OH MY LORD, Ms. S. I am sorry you had to write the email. I will make sure this air head of my son will gather the thousands of pencils he leaves all around the house and bring to school.

May the power be with you.

And today?

That kid had a pencil.

Troubled Waters

"It's a pilot," they say. "Stop trouble-finding. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Accidentally" crushed iPad?

Okay... let's see what's on the other side of that bridge.

We Interrupt Your Regular Programming

This is the time of year when there is a definite lull in television options for us. Members of the three-channel, test-pattern generation as we are, it's not that there is nothing on, it's just that there is nothing on. Our situation is probably further complicated by the fact that we have 90 minutes, MAX, a day to sit down and watch anything, so many times when there are shows that sound interesting or promising, we ignore them because we know they probably won't fit in with our one-maybe-two shows a night habit.

But in late January, early February, there aren't a lot of new episodes of the targeted female 45-55 demographic programs that we enjoy, so we branch out. In past years, we've taken the opportunity to hop on the bandwagon of some of those shows we formerly shunned for lack of time. For example, The Good Wife is now a staple on our DVR, but they're not broadcasting right now. Last year, Breaking Bad filled the void, and this year? It's The Sopranos. We just finished season one, and I now that I have time to get the fuss, I totally get the fuss.

It doesn't seem that long ago that Tony, Carmella, and Dr. Melfi were permanent fixtures at all the award ceremonies, but watching the show from its 1999 beginning is like traveling in a time machine, and the Twin Towers in the opening sequence are the keys. Oh, I know the final episode famously fades to black, but that's really all I know, and I plan to keep it that way, even as the other shows I like come back on the air.

Arithmetic

We were seated alphabetically in sixth grade, and our homeroom was also our math and science class. That's how I got to spend so much time with Bobby Shaffer, a little twerp with a dirty blond bowl cut. His dad was my brother's little league coach, and father and son were both bullies on the diamond.

The classroom was not Bobby's field of dreams however, so he was a little humbler there, but still pretty scrappy. I remember one day overhearing him tell someone the mnemonic he used to spell arithmetic, a rat in Tom's house might eat Tom's ice cream.

It impressed me at the time, and to be honest I can't hear the word without thinking of that boy and that sentence. I never really considered the scenario, though. What kind of rat would be so aggressive as to assail your freezer? Or worse, come at you when you were eating dessert? Poor Tom! And why Tom, not Ted or Terry or Tim?

This morning all of these questions finally surfaced when, out walking the dog, I heard a dreadful banging in the trash enclosure up the hill. Something was clearly stuck in one of the heavy-lidded plastic rolling cans lined up within, maybe a raccoon or squirrel. I took Isabel back to the house and called on Heidi for back-up.

Armed with a broom and the long-handled garden tool known as a cobra, I held the stockade door open as Heidi lifted the lid with the broom. A brown rat scurried out and away from us, then through the fence and into the woods. As scrappy as it was, too, I was ambivalent about saving its pestilent life, but I was glad to have prevented one of our neighbors from the ugly shock of freeing a trapped rat when they lifted the lid to deposit their garbage.

Mission accomplished, I wondered as we headed home what a rat in Tracey's house might do and crossed my fingers to never find out.

Trouble-shooting Trouble

"I had the science fair last period," a student told me glumly at lunch yesterday. She was among a few kids either dropping off or packing up their books before heading down to the cafeteria.

"How did it go?" I asked.

"Only two judges came to me," she complained. "We were supposed to have three."

Before I could sympathize, another student who had been listening to our conversation spoke. "Maybe it was because your board wasn't as attractive as it could be," he said.

There was an audible gasp, and I'm sure my jaw dropped.

"That was really rude," one of the guys said to his buddy.

"What?" the other kid said.

"You just told her that her science fair project was ugly," another student said.

"I've never even seen her project," the student said, "I was just trying to figure out why the judges didn't come over!"

Mr. Snow Miser

I had already seen it happen once today, and so when what seemed like a serious snow squall gusted outside my classroom, I ignored the huge flakes blowing sideways and silenced the excited chatter of sixth graders anticipating an early release.

"I predict it will stop snowing and the sun will come out before this class ends," I told them.

They were skeptical as they returned to work, but sure enough, the storm tapered and then halted. Ten minutes later it was blue skies and sunshine. "Ta da!" I spread my arms wide.

"How did you do that?" they demanded. "How did you know?"

"Maybe she can control the weather!" one student suggested.

"Trust me," I said, "if I could? We would have a lot more four day weekends!"

Practice Accountability

It's something I tell my students over and over:

Skills are improved with regular practice. I use that argument to justify their daily reading requirement, often with the analogy that you'll get stronger by lifting 20 pounds every day, but you'll probably get hurt if you lift 100 pounds on Sunday.

I believe it when I tell them, and I shake my head when they don't follow through, but that was definitely me frantically practicing my ukulele for an hour before my lesson this afternoon, and for the record, I hadn't touched it since Saturday.

Oh, I didn't get hurt, but I have to confess that my lesson fees might be better spent should I actually be more prepared. On the other hand, I probably wouldn't practice at all if it weren't for the lesson.