Boo Hoo mBug

It seems like

EVERYBODY

else

is on

Christmas vacation

except

us!

Twenty-Five Dozen

Christmas cookies--

Boom!

Mic drop.

Seasonable

Freezing rain and sleet were gently rapping at the windows when I rose this morning. I had too much planned to even regret that it was not a school day. And indeed before the sun was fully up and glistening off the ice on all the trees, I had baked three kinds of Christmas cookies and a dozen and a half muffins. By the time we were ready to head out into the world, the world was ready for us-- all the roads were clear and dry. The temperature rose steadily throughout the afternoon, and tomorrow it is predicted to be 60.

No matter-- here at home, the oven will be warming, the music playing, the lights twinkling, and the wrapping paper and ribbon unspooling gift by gift.

Progress Report

We handed out interim progress reports this morning.  In this age of live gradebooks these little paper records of student grades are really no more than an anachronism: not only have the grades on them likely changed since last week when we uploaded them, but most students and their parents know that and have checked to see what they are getting NOW.

Still, as I distributed them,  I counseled my homeroom students that this was a chance to see what they were doing well (and continue that), as well as identify areas they might like to improve, and also to take the opportunity to talk to their teachers about any questions they might have.

They might have been listening, but I have another student who definitely was focused on the event.

"I left your report card on your desk," he told me as he left English class this morning. "It's on a post-it note."

I raised my eyebrows. "Thanks," I said, and in the chaos of exchanging one set of 22 sixth graders for another and restarting my lesson, I promptly forgot,

In fact it wasn't until many hours later, when I was working my way through the day's sift of classwork, hall passes, lesson plans, extra copies of materials, memos, and flyers that I noticed the little canary square of paper stuck to a pile of books on the corner of my desk. Neatly divided into three categories, I had a grade and a comment in each of the areas of "Patience" "Fun" and "Teaching."

I don't like to brag, but my lowest grade was a B+ in Patience (no kidding) and the comment read, pretty good, but could be a little nicer. In Fun? I earned an A, and the comment was, good activities and socializes really well. And in Teaching I got an A++++ Awesome fantastic teacher-- the BEST!!! 

I've gotta get that Patience grade up!

So Not Why

We gave our students a choice of movies to watch next week on the team-building day we have planned before winter break. Using a simple online tool, I created a survey with 8 options inviting the kids to pick as many as they liked in the hope that whatever film we showed would be pleasing to most. As it is, we have nearly a 60% approval rate of The Secret Life of Pets.

I also asked them to name a movie they might like to see in the future, and I was scratching my head at the number who listed Finding Dory in that category, even though it was a choice on the current list.

When I shared my confusion with another teacher on the team, she laughed and suggested, "Maybe they're saying they're not quite ready for it yet, but they will be soon. They just gotta grow into it."

Oh, we teachers do amuse ourselves.

Questioning

My students are writing essays about characters in short stories that they are choosing from a curated collection I have provided. Because character is key to the assignment, many of the stories have first person narrators, and several times today students have referred to an unnamed speaker by the opposite gender that I imagined they were.

In some cases the students missed an important detail, but one of the conversations started with the student correcting me when I referred to the main character by the other gender than she had imagined.

"You mean he?" she said with a sniff. And when I frowned, trying to recall the details of the story, she told me, "It doesn't say either way, but I think it's a boy, and that's how I'm going to write it."

I nodded, impressed by her confidence. "I guess you could make that claim," I said, using the language of the essay unit.

"Claim?" she shook her head. "It would be debatable if I called the main character "they"! I'm pretty sure the speaker is a guy."

"Okay," I answered. "Keep working! I can't wait to see your evidence."

On Target

The office called in the middle of class yesterday and asked me to send a student. "Oh, I know what that's about," he told me as he got up to go.

"Is everything okay?" I asked him with concern.

"It will be if you mind your own beeswax!" he snapped. "Not everything is your business."

There were audible gasps from the other students as he left the room, but I let it go and they got back to the assignment they were working on. The bell rang before he returned, and I put his books behind my desk to clear the table for the next class. He came in about 10 minutes later looking for his things, but I asked him to wait in the hallway while I got it.

"You were pretty rude me to me before," I said, and my voice was not as neutral as I would have liked.

He shrugged. "Can I have my stuff?" he said. "I'm late for science."

"Really?" I asked. "That's all you have to say?"

"It is for now," he answered, so I handed him his binder and went back to my class.

Later on I found out that he was having trouble with another student and his mom was there to meet with him, the counselor, and the assistant principal. That type of information is shared with the team so that we can support kids with whatever they are struggling, and in this case it explained why he was so touchy. For me, the incident was closed, and I didn't even think about it when I saw him in class today.

Now, this particular student is very fond of the magnetic dart board I have in my classroom. He loves to tell anyone who is nearby how his father is Scottish and that the game must run in their blood. Truth be told, he is pretty good at it, and he often stops by at the end of the school day to see if I have a few minutes for him to shoot.

I was on the phone when he knocked today, and I had a meeting right after, so I waved him and the other student who wanted to play away with a shake of my head. He continued to stand there. "She said it's closed," the other kid hissed and jerked his head at the door. The first boy waited calmly until I hung up the phone.

"I'm not here to shoot darts," he started. "I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you yesterday. I was feeling anxious about the meeting, and I took it out on you."

I raised my eyebrows and smiled in appreciation. "I accept."