Go with the Flo

Fifteen years ago school was closed to allow people to hunker down in the face of Hurricane Isabel. We were lucky back then; the power never even flickered, but other folks in our small county were not as fortunate, and we had a couple days off to allow everyone to get back on their feet.

Heidi and I took advantage of our unexpected holiday to go get a puppy, and she was our first dog, Isabel.

Since then, storms have threatened but never actually closed down the schools. This weekend that may change, though, Hurricane Florence is on her way. Today all the models seem to agree that Florence will be a minor event in this area, but I guess a monster storm like that can never be completely predictable.

Could there be a canine Florence in our future? Let me double check the European model.

Winning Combination

Today was locker day, which is a really big deal in sixth grade. The students look forward to receiving their lockers with a mixture of glee and trepidation-- they desperately want a small piece of real estate in our crowded and cavernous building, but the concept of a combination lock is completely new to most of them.

We do our best to prepare them for the experience of standing shoulder to shoulder with the rest of their classmates, spinning their dials precisely to align the levers and free the shackle from its latch. There are printed directions and verbal reminders, like left to the second number and stop the second time and right to the third number right away. We also do individual tutorials, calling out the exact movements and numbers to the student as he or she attempts to open the lock.

Even so, they have to be able to tell left from right for our coaching to be meaningful in the least. "You're left-handed? Cradle your lock in your right hand," I told a student this morning. "Now spin it to the right several times."

"Which way is that?" she asked, and I knew we had a challenge.

"Toward your thumb," I improvised. She followed my direction. "Now turn it toward your pinky," I said, "and then back to your thumb. With a satisfying click, she pulled her lock open.

Later in the day she came back to me. "I can do my lock!" she reported breathlessly. "It's easy-- thumb, pinky, thumb!"

I gave her a thumbs up.

Despite such successes, there are always tears of frustration and panic on locker day, too, but the sixth grade teachers are well-prepared to help the kids through, mostly because we know something they do not: In a week? They will all be opening their locks as if they had done it all their lives. And in a month? They'll forget that there was ever time when they couldn't.

Wet Weekend

And on the first weekend of the school year:

The sun did not shine.
It was too wet to play.
So we sat in our house
both those windy wet days.

All we could do was to

Sit!
      Sit!
             Sit!
                     Sit!

And we did not like it.
Not one little bit.

Well, okay. I liked it a little bit, because I was so tired from the first week back.

But a Cat in the Hat would have been cool, too.

Howdy, Neighbor

After running into my former students on Monday, I saw them again at the grocery store later in the week. "Here you are again!" I said. "I guess it's amazing that we never bumped into each other last year, when you were actually in my class."

And then on Friday morning when I was heading home from walking Lucy, who should I see bounding up the steps in my complex just as I started down? I bet you can guess.

"Well!" scoffed the first twin, "This is just getting awkward!"

The Time You Enjoy Wasting Is Not Wasted Time

One of the students in my homeroom had literally nothing to say this morning as we waited to be called to an assembly. The rest of the group was having a jolly conversation about vegetables that we either loved or hated, but he sat unsmiling, arms crossed tightly. "You know what," I told him, "I know your social skills teacher (it's Heidi), and she says you talk all the time in that class! Why won't you talk to us?"

I smiled and winked. He clenched his arms even more tightly across his chest and grimaced. "Because this class," he started with a sneer and took a deep breath.

"Whoa!" I took advantage of the pause and held up my hands. "I think you might be getting ready to say something that could hurt my feelings. Take a minute to think about it."

He did not follow my advice. "Because this class is uselessly boring!" he proclaimed.

The other students froze and looked from him to me.

"All you people do is talk, talk, talk, about stupid stuff," he finished.

"Hey!" said another student. "It is not stupid! We are just trying to get to know each other!"

"I'm so sorry you feel that way," I told him. "But next week I'm going to give you a locker and an iPad-- I don't think you'll find either of those useless or boring." I paused and shrugged.  "And give the rest of us a chance, too!"

My Life as a Book

To help my students make the connection between reading and writing and to also gather ideas for the short personal narratives they will soon write, I give them the following prompt: If your life were a novel, what would the plot be?

The exercise also helps with the skill of synopsizing (which my family will tell you I learned a little late in life!), and, as a bonus, the kids' answers can be very revealing.

As usual, I did the assignment, too. This is not what I wrote, but I sure could have.

It's about a sixth grade English teacher who has a lot of students, but she still wants to do a really, really good job, and lots of people say to "work smarter not harder" but she's not sure what that means, and since it's just the third day of school she's just trying to learn 137 new names and make sure she has enough chairs for everyone.

(Spoiler Alert: I'm sure it will have a happy ending!)

Cut to the Chase, Lady!

I asked a disruptive student to step outside for a moment.

"What did I do?" he asked belligerently.

"Who said you did anything?" I replied.

He scowled. I shrugged.

"I noticed that you weren't following the directions," I told him, "and it's noisy in our classroom. I wanted to see if you had any questions."

"They were talking to me!" he said about the other students at his table.

"It looked like there was a lot of conversation going on," I agreed, "between everybody," I added.

"That's why I don't know the directions," he said.

"Did you notice that I put your seat right near where I usually stand?" I asked him. "That's so if you have any questions, you can ask me and I will help you."

He gave a small nod.

"There are a lot of kids in our class," I told him, "and I need you to be doing what you're supposed to..."

I took a breath and he looked a little alarmed. We both knew I was winding up for the pep talk. He reached out and patted my shoulder.

"I get it!" he told me. "I'll pay attention!"

I laughed in surprise.

"Say, I promise," I said.

"I promise!" he answered. "Now what were we supposed to do?"