Learning Curves

Rules are Meant to be Broken and Boys are Meant to Break Them

There are lots of rules in Middle School — some of them important, and some of them written into handbook law just so the kids don’t annoy the teachers in a particular way (for example, I have a “no singing” rule in my classroom.? Not because I’m a cold-hearted meanie, but because after hearing “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” daily for nine weeks, I deemed it critical to the safety of the children.)? And some are Big Rules, because they seem like they should be — despite having no practical manner of implementation.

Like “No weapons in school”.? Seemingly a Good Rule, yes?? To an outsider, of course.? To someone who knows Middle School boys, yeah right.? I believe it was Naomi Dunford who once remarked that when all traces of violent toys are taken away, a boy will chew his toast into the shape of a gun.

So I give my kids a group project to end the quarter.? (It’s a survival tactic.? “Group projects” are a way of engaging students while simultaneously sparing the teacher from massive amounts of last-minute grading.)? Design a board game, I say.? We talk about different styles and how some of the classics came about.? They create brightly-colored cardstock boards and make notecards with a billion trivial questions.? The girls make cute games with candy and rainbows.? The boys make this:

Now in my defense, I did not ask the students to bring in anything from home.? Pinky swear.? And while I am fully supportive of our actual armed forces, I am less supportive of their plastic counter parts — for many moral, environmental, and “job retention”-based reasons.? (But then, I’m a girl.? It’s quite possible that I just don’t “get it”.)

But when I saw the sheer enthusiasm on their faces, the painstaking attention to detail, and the manner in which they named each of the little plastic pieces and parts… “the Castles are the tanks… the pawns are the troops… and the Bishops are the FLAMETHROWERS!!!”, yes my friend, that is where I lost it.

Carry on, boys.? Some rules are definitely meant to be broken.

Redefining Normal / Reinventing Yourself

redefining normal

As I was up to my elbows in muck at work today, I thought about the notion of “redefining normal“.? I spent a good chunk of my morning recycling hundreds of pounds of clay for my ceramics class.? And, laugh all you want, I suddenly realized that while this was a perfectly routine thing for me to do, it was probably not normal for the rest of the civilized world.? And it dawned on me that fairly soon, it would not be normal for me either.

While I won’t call it a skill, there is a certain aptitude in digging clay from a bucket and working it into usable condition.? I know this only from watching my students, who approach the container with dread and lower their fingers in slowly and cautiously as if they’re reaching into a basket of vipers.? And they look away and wince, every time.? Before they touch the clay.? I’ve never understood.? And then they dig out a couple of fingernails full and pretend they’re done.? I reach in and slap another grapefruit-sized chunk on their hands with a cheerful “there you go!” before they have a chance to walk away.

If this wasn’t going to be my normal, I tried to think of whose it would be.? I did a little mind game, trying to think of as many other professions as I could.? I got as far as my friend who is a ceramicist, then nixed it because she probably has a machine that does this for her.? Nope, really — none that I could think of.? Then I tried to think of all of the other crazy skills I had learned in this job, and where those might be useful, but discovered that they’re really pretty “niche”.? For example, I am quite good at telling if a kid is really going to throw up, or just wants to get out of his next class.? And if they are going to throw up, I am rather adept at getting them escorted out of the room fast enough that it doesn’t happen on my territory.? I am also darn good at fake-remembering my students’ names.? Quite good, actually.? I can either get them to think I know it without actually remembering it, or stall them long enough that it comes to me.? Either way, they leave with that charming little “she does remember me!” smile on their face, and I breathe a silent sigh of relief.

The biggest change I will have to my “normal” is the sheer number of people I am surrounded by.? I’m a pretty shy person, so dealing with 150+ people each day was a decent system shock when I first encountered it.? Forcing myself to interact with each one individually daily, in two-minute chunks, is kind of like the teacher-student equivalent of speed dating.? To go from that to being solo will be a pretty big adjustment.? I guess being self employed is not just a matter of economics — there’s a social and emotional paradigm shift that goes along for the ride.

Still bracing, and making sense of it all.

[For the record, the above picture is not me recycling clay, but up to my elbows in muck after cleaning out a clogged downspout drain pipe a few months back.? One “normal” I’d redefine quite happily.]

Deck the (teachers who ask for passes in the) Halls

This is gonna be a convoluted post; I’ll warn you ahead of time.? It will be kind of like one of those TV shows where the story line is so full of “intrigue” that it doesn’t really have a plot, and you can’t figure out who the characters are supposed to be so you just sit there and half watch with a confused look on your face.? (Okay, that would probably be more me than you.? Which is why I never watch TV.? You probably would have no problem understanding things and would just pray I didn’t ask stupid questions during the good parts.? But I digress.)? I’ll provide plenty of footnotes so you (er, I) can keep track.*

Long story short:**

Today was Christmas.***? My dad (who knows best), got his soon-to-be-out-of-work-teacher (me) just what she needed most: a Student.? BOY was I surprised.? I would have been fine with a sweater or bath products, but hey.****? Said Student and I had a great time reminiscing about the Good Old Days***** when he and Juvenile Delinquent sat together in my class.******? Turns out Student lives right behind my dad, and has been coming over regularly for guitar lessons.*******? We deemed him a Nice Boy, and sentenced him to play my daughter at air hockey (who before today had never lost to anyone in the state of Ohio, and has been quite unbearable about it).

…and a lovely time was had by all : ) ………………………….. C.
………………………………………………………………………………..

* cause I kinda want to see how many asterisks I can use in a single post : )? (no worries; it’s just a phase)
** Don’t you LOVE it when people say “Long story short…” and then proceed to give you a long story??? Me TOO.
*** Today was New Years.? But since everybody had the dreaded Pink Eye during Christmas, we decided to postpone Christmas to the next available holiday.
**** He also got me a HD gift card, and a free “phone-a-dad” request for help on a home improvement project.? (you know me soo well… : ) )
***** which weren’t old at all, and neither is he
****** JD was simultaneously one of two students in my teaching career that came verrry close to punching my lights out, and also one of an elite handful who has repeatedly come back to tell me how great I was.? enjoy the irony.? I know I have.
******* …and free food
******** Student – 1; Daughter – 3.? It’s a start.

Good morning, young impressionable minds…

great wave

Today’s lesson is about Japanese culture.? When you think of Japan, what comes to mind? I do a quick survey of the room and call on several 6th graders.? After sorting through a smattering of answers that include slanty eyes and “talking funny”, we get down to a real appreciation of a culture very foreign to many of the students in the room.? The one lone Asian girl takes it in but doesn’t say a word, and breathes a sigh of relief as the conversation develops.

We learn about Katsushika Hokusai, with whom they are all familiar but do not know.? We discover the three boats and the fishermen and Mount Fuji in the famous image.? We learn to create organic landscapes and let go of zigzag mountains, and draw the fluid bodies of patterned koi fish.

As I look out at the sea of 6th graders eagerly working on their paintings, I can’t help but giggle as I realize that what I actually have in front of me are 30 lovely, detailed drawings of — sperm.? With scales.? Because as much as they tried to draw something resembling a fish, it just wasn’t.? And I know that when they get home tonight and are anxious to share what they’ve learned in school, the conversation will go something like this:

Mommy mommy, look what I learned in art today! at which point the student will whip out this Rorschach of a drawing that the poor mother can only hope is something other than what she thinks it is, which is giving her flashbacks of the “reproductive education class” she had to sit through in her middle school years (and up until now, had successfully repressed).? She will exclaim how lovely it is with a puzzled look which she will try to hide, and carefully ask… what is it?? At which point the 6th grader will say exactly what she dreads most:? Guess!!

In my defense,* I’ve taught this project before to beautiful results. 6th graders are filled with lovely poetry that pours out when they are quiet enough to hear it.

I’m giggling because I’ve been that parent, gone through that phase, and (to the best of my knowledge) have not permanently scarred my daughter’s delicate psyche.

I’m also giggling because I realized right then and there that I also just taught all the future 7th grade boys how to draw sperm.? Which will come in quite handy.? Because for those of you reading this who don’t teach middle school, have children of this age, or are of this age yourself (chronologically or emotionally), there’s one indelible truth of life: 7th grade boys draw penises.? a LOT.? I don’t know why.? But they do.? The “clever” ones do it on purpose, the innocent ones do it subconsciously.?? And now, they will be able to draw them in grave detail.

(And I’m giggling because I’m not going to be teaching 7th grade art next year.)

As I look out at the room I realize I could hug them all, every last one of them.? For I know the transformation that is about to take place in these lovely young minds and bodies, and I must enjoy them while they are still beautifully young and innocent.? And before they reach their true “artistic potential”.

……………………………with love and [cough] other little things,? C.

* work with me

Funny story…

Well, kinda funny.? As in I will laugh about this some day.

I made a vow to not talk about my job on a public platform, (even when it’s really really funny) partly because its a bit of bad form, and partly because as a teacher I am essentially a public servant, and I take that seriously, as I do teaching.? But occasionally things approach a level of absurdity that must be shared.

So let me tell you a hypothetical story, with a lot of disclaimers.

Disclaimers:
I.? A.? 1. I love teaching.? If teaching was all about imparting knowledge to young willing minds, I’d be all there.
I. A. 2. If teaching was occasionally about imparting knowledge to young less-than-willing minds, I’d still be all there.? Enthusiastically.
I. A. 3.? If teaching was about ridiculous paperwork, broken computerized gradebooks, and copy machines that work twice a month, still there.? I’d do a little venting, but I’d still show up early and stay late, work most evenings on my lessons, and spend Saturday nights grading for 9 mos. out of the year.

But sometimes teaching is this quirky endurance test that is more reminiscent of one of those contest reality shows.? My (hypothetical) schedule made all the more insane by traveling? between two schools and six grade levels, this season’s extra special twist including sharing six (yes six) different classrooms.

Now if you took the average businessman and told him he had to continue to do his job effectively while moving to a new location every hour of the day, he’d probably not be thrilled.? Send him to offices currently occupied by employees who don’t particularly want to share their space, and things can get a little dicey.? Take away his access to necessary supplies and equipment and then stick him in front of 30+ middle school students and expect some semblance of order, well, you’d better provide the tranquilizer blow darts or he’s hypothetically toast, sister.

The funny part of the story came about after discovering that in one classroom the typical ratio of 1 student to 1 desk/ chair was askew (as in butts > chairs), and after trying to correct this via all traditional channels, I finally stormed, exasperated, into the principal’s office.? He was incredibly helpful in that he not only wrote the problem down on a post-it, but resolved to pass it on to someone else (phew.)? And then, much to my surprise — he offered me another classroom.

[A little background: not only is current classroom #6 on my list, it is quite ill-suited to teach my subject matter, which involves clay and paints and numerous messy materials.? The room has no running water or sinks, and just to add insult to injury, no working pencil sharpeners and a clock that spins like the exorcist halfway through the class like clockwork.? (That is the only thing it does like clockwork.)]

ANOTHER classroom?!?? I’m sure there was, hypothetically, such a look of shock and horror on my face that he said “Onlyifyouwant!Youchoose.Nopressure.” as fast as he possibly could choke out.? “But… it has sinks,” he said carefully.? Sinks..?? Real… sinks??? (So you know there has to be a catch, or they would have put me there months ago.)? Where is said room, I ask cautiously?

Oh, down the hallway… keep on going… past the gymnasium… in…

…the boys locker room.

If I had to make this any more surreal, I couldn’t.? I teach in what most people consider to be a “wealthy” district.? And I am (hypothetically) not kidding.

I’m not sure what tomorrow holds, but I do know that today held plenty enough for me.? Laugh with me later, willya?