Hai Jacked

When the poetry section of our 100 Day Writing Challenge begins in April, my friend Mary always reminds us that kids love to plagiarize haiku. As simple as it seems to write seventeen syllables, she is always right, and this morning was no exception. 

No sooner had I opened the electronic challenge and was going over it with my first group of students than a writer in another class posted three haiku. "Wow!" remarked one of his peers, "that was fast!"

It was the second poem that gave him away:

An ocean voyage
as the waves breaks over the bow
the sea welcomes me

and the third that sealed the deal:

The flowers wither
beneath the weight of the sun,
yet the weeds stand proud

I read without comment, knowing I would speak to the plagiarist later, and continued my lesson. "Make sure that your poem is original," I stressed. "I've been reading your writing for seven and a half months, and I know your voice. I'll probably be able to tell if you copied from somewhere else." 

Plus? Kids are terrible at picking believable poems to steal, I noted silently.

The Past as Prologue

Two years ago, when the COVID shut down was just getting started, we would pass some time by meeting friends to walk on the National Mall. Back then, it was eerie how deserted the place was. All the museums were closed, and people were unsure about the safety of anything, even being outside in public. At the same time, it was amazing to have such a beautiful place to ourselves, and to wander world-famous monuments and spaces alone.

Yesterday afternoon, Heidi and I loaded Lucy in the car and drove downtown for a walk. The place was packed. The Cherry Blossom 10 Miler had gone off earlier in the day, and scores of food trucks and ice cream trucks lined the cross streets, blaring their electronic jingles. And even though the trees were quite past their peak, thousands of tourists and residents strolled along in the warm spring afternoon, snapping photos, lounging on the grass, and wandering in and out of museums,

almost as if the last 2 years had never happened.

Cultural History Lesson

As an IB MYP school, part of our mission is to raise awareness in students of organizations that serve the community, so the homeroom lesson the other day was to explore the local animal welfare league website. The kids were most interested in browsing the animals that they have for adoption, and spent a few minutes scrolling through profiles of cats and dogs, and bunnies, guinea pigs and hamsters, too. 

"I like the names of the Hamsters!" I said. "Bobby? Cindy? Greg? They are kind of quirky!" But when I saw the next two hamsters, Jan and Marcia, I literally slapped my forehead. "Oh! Duh! It's the Brady Bunch!"

"What's the Brady Bunch?" asked one of the students.

"You don't know?" I replied with an incredulous head tilt. "Really?"

I looked around the room. "Has anybody ever heard of the TV show the Brady Bunch?"

"Maybe?" said a single student. "But I've never seen it."

"It's about this guy who has three sons and this woman who has..." I started, and then paused and opened a new tab on the browser to pull up a few videos. The opening credits and theme song sort of rang a few bells.

"It's so old, though," noted one kid. "Why would you expect us to know it?"

"Because it's classic!" I replied hitting play on the Marcia, Marcia, Marcia scene. "This part is practically a meme!"

Now I was talking their language! They were watching Jan complain about her big sister when another teacher from the team came in to borrow a lap top. "Mr. G!" called a student. "Have you ever heard of the Brady Bunch?"

"Oh yeah," he waved his hand dismissively. "My mother loved that show."

April Foolin'

Ordinarily? I am not a big fan of April Fool's Day, but yesterday when I was looking for a fun challenge, I read several pranks that teachers could pull on their students. Before I left for the day I jotted the words "Flood Drill" on a post-it note as a possibility, should the opportunity arise. 

I was reminded of my plan when the kids on the morning announcements played a few silly April Fool's jokes, and so when the program was over, I stood up from my desk and walked out to the middle of the room. "You guys we have a drill today," I said seriously, in the same tone I always use to inform them of such things.

"What is it?" asked one student.

"It's a flood drill," I answered.

"A flood drill!" she replied. "I've never heard of that."

"Maybe because of COVID you missed it?" I suggested. "Has anyone else ever done one?"

They hadn't, and I would have gotten away with the whole prank except that when it came time to tell them they had to stand on their chairs, I started to laugh so hard I couldn't give the directions.

"You have to do better!" they scolded me. 

"I almost believed it!" someone agreed.

So when the next class came in, the kids from my homeroom helped out. "We have a drill today," I started.

"That's right," said one of them. "She told us about it. She got a note in her mailbox."

They were so convincing, that they pulled me along, too. "When they announce the drill over the loud speaker, you have to stand on your chair," I explained. "But if it were a real flood, lifeboats would drop out of the ceiling."

"Lifeboats!" exclaimed an incredulous girl. "Why can't we just walk out?"

"Because of the electrical wires," I said seriously. "It's too dangerous! You have to step from your chair to the lifeboat and then paddle it down the hall the same way we go for a fire drill."

"Really?" I saw them looking at each other doubtfully. 

"Yes," I continued, "unless you're on the swim team. Then you have to report to the nearest bathroom and flush the toilets over and over to keep the water level down. You are the designated flushers! When the whole building is evacuated, you can swim to safety."

"Why can't we just open the window to let the water out?" somebody said.

"The lifeboats won't work if there isn't enough water!" I told them.

Most of them were laughing now, and I was too. 

"Are you ready to practice?" I asked them. "Attention! This is a flood drill!"

They climbed on their chairs. 

"Great job!" I congratulated them. "You're ready for the flood drill!"

"When is it?" asked someone.

The other kids rolled their eyes. "April Fools!" they roared.

Jolly Holiday

As part of the daily writing challenge I offer my students I usually add a fun fact about the day to inspire them. For example, March 18 is National Awkward Moments Day, and as we all can probably attest, awkward moments make good writing topics. March 24? Harry Houdini's birthday, and a possible writing topic was a time someone escaped from something. Students are not limited to these prompts by any means, but the suggestion can throw a lifeline to a young writer without a ready idea. 

Sometimes I tie the extra, fun challenge to the day, or have our warm-up question relate to it somehow. Any of these activities might also have ties to the mentor text we may be using or the brain break in the middle of our block, as well. I do my best to keep things fun and relevant.

As I was planning the lesson for today, though, all the pieces really fell into place. In case you weren't aware, March 31 is National Tater Day. Before I even knew about that, the model text I planned to share was Potato Pants. Of course the question of the day had to be What's your favorite way to eat potatoes? and the extra challenge? Do the Mashed Potato (video instructions and music provided).

The spud-themed day was a hit, full of spirited debate about fries vs tots, laughter at the antics of the main character in Potato Pants, and toe twisting to the 1962 classic by Dee Dee Sharp. (We also got some writing done!)

Even so, the kids had a couple of ideas to make the day even better. "We should eat potato chips!" suggested one.

"And our brain break should be to play Hot Potato!" added another.

"Yes and yes!" I said.

Thank goodness National Tater Day comes every year!

3 Ds and All Ears

I lost my patience with a sixth grader today. 

That may sound routine, but for those of us who have committed our careers to the tweens and early teens, patience, along with empathy and a sense of humor, is one of our sharpest tools. I could tell you my side of the story-- give you evidence that she was unquestionably disruptive, disrespectful, and defiant, and I could use the testimony of my colleagues to support my observations. I could also describe how productive the class was in her absence, once they recovered from witnessing our interaction. 

All of those things would support my claim that I was justified in my response, but I know I wasn't. 

And when I spoke to her after class did she initially deny knowing what she had done wrong? Yep. Was she eventually backed into admitting her mistakes by my teacher logic? Yep again. But when, frustrated and angry, she told me that I never listen to her side of the story, I had to admit to myself that she probably had a point.

I like to think that I give a lot of grace to my students, even more so now, considering what I assume these kids have been through in the last 2 years, but maybe it's time to stop making assumptions, and start listening.

A Snow Covered Hill

I've always loved the song Landslide for its simple truth:

Time makes you bolder.
Even children get older,
and I'm getting older, too.

But time is a little warpy when you teach the same grade for nearly 30 years. The kids stay the same age, and it kind of feels like you do, too. 

Oh, sure, the kids you know (and love) personally grow older, and there are always those former students who you run into out in the community, at least the ones you can recognize despite how much they've changed. Those experiences help adjust the rearview a little.

Even so, I'm at a stage in my personal life where the children are older, but not to the point where they have children of their own, so it's been a while since someone handed me a 3-week old baby. But yesterday? That changed when we went over to visit neighbors and meet their new daughter, Olivia. Oh, I could have held her for hours-- watching her stretch and yawn and blink, smelling that soft powder and sour milk, rocking her, and patting her soft diapered bottom. 

Yep, still miraculous.