When the Volcano Blows

Never mind the cupcakes, perhaps I should have hesitated when it came to the lava lamp lesson-- but what could possibly go wrong with baby oil and food coloring in a class of 21 sixth graders during the last week of school? To be honest, the teacher-for-a-day and I had it pretty well organized and mess-free until that final student inexplicably squeezed her bottle with all her might. The lid flew off in an eruption of red water and baby oil which drenched her, the girl doing the lesson, and the the carpet, as well as liberally spattering my desk, including my phone, iPad, and computer.

I confess to being livid, and I may have even raised my voice in frustration. (Although I might not have been quite so aggravated had she either apologized or offered to help clean up.) A spare t-shirt, a container of Lysol wipes, and a roll of paper towels later, things were looking a little less greasy, but I was still sliding over the slick spots on the rug.

And then there was the one thing that was damaged beyond recovery-- my end-of-the-year checkout form!

What's Your Objective?

When it comes to Teacher-for-a-Day, our final activity of the year where the students plan and implement a lesson for their peers, I'm usually quite liberal about approving the students' activity proposals; ownership is the foundation of the project.

Today was an exception. I just could not say yes to a lesson about healthy eating that involved decorating cupcakes.

"We're going to have them calculate the calories after they decorate them," the student told me earnestly.

"Why?" I asked, bewildered.

"So they know how bad they are while they are eating them," she informed me.

In the end? It was a lesson on decorating techniques; no nutritional awareness involved.

Hearin' There

Overheard around town today:

"Where did you get all this stuff??"
-Goodwill attendant to Heidi as we dropped off the first batch of attic purge.

"That's a gun, right, Mama? Guns aren't allowed!"
-three-year-old shopper looking wistfully at a Nerf tennis ball launcher at the pet store.

"Self Checkout is open with no waiting!"
-Target employee pointing to the line of customers at the self checkout

"My name is Jack, and I'm a dog lover."
-boy on elementary school playground greeting Heidi and Lucy

"I don't even know what you eat on those. The tail?"
-my neighbor on the phone on her balcony as I potted plants on the front stoop.

Eight is Great

"It feels like summer!" Heidi said as we walked down to the movies this warm and sunny afternoon, and I nodded in agreement.

Once at the theater we found our seats and settled in with some popcorn. After a full 25 minutes of (very enjoyable!) trailers, the feature started. Oceans Eight was as smooth as a pebble from the beach in Maine. Loaded with solid girl power, it was still light and fun, with some gentle curves, and nothing to complain about.

I felt relaxed and entertained when I stepped back out into the June afternoon. "It feels like summer!" I said, and Heidi nodded in agreement.

Betwixt and Between

My senior project student finished her internship today. Six years on, I think she saw her former classroom through new eyes, although I'm pretty sure she still identifies more with the students than with me. Having a more sympathetic person in the room was a plus for me, too, though, especially as we made the push to finish the last big writing project of the year.

For example, when a very capable student literally whined that she really had no idea why I would think that He Shoots for the Stars was kind of a cliche as the headline for a piece on soccer, I referred her to Madeline. "I think Ms. S might be right about that," I heard Madeline tell the student kindly. "It is a bit cheesy." And so they worked it out together.

At the end of the day, when I was showing another teacher the list of students in the last class who had successfully revised and polished their writing to a published draft, Madeline looked over my shoulder and gasped. "That's all that actually finished?" she said, counting the names. "Six?? Out of how many?"

"Twenty-four," I told her.

"But isn't it due today?" she asked.

"Yep," I answered. "Oh, everyone has something written," I explained, "but not everyone completely finished."

She looked aghast.

"You were always one of the six," I laughed gently, "but if you're going to be a teacher, you have to be prepared for the other 18."

Two Birds

I was talking to our school reading specialist at an end-of-the-year party this afternoon when my friend and fellow sixth grade English teacher, Mary, sat down. A little while later, the third sixth grade English teacher joined us, too. We were chit-chatting about this and that when she said, "Oh, by the way, I won't be in school tomorrow. Sorry to miss our CLT meeting," she shrugged.

"I think we just had it!" said Mary.

Escalator

The only thing the service operators could tell me about my washer repair (or lack there of) was that they would "escalate" my concerns.

What does that mean? I asked, both in writing and in person.

The silence was long.

But not as long as the laundry has been in the hamper.