Wasted Class Time

Forget how many hours a year are wasted waiting for students to pass their papers in.

Forget how many hours a year are wasted when kids pack up their things two minutes early.

Forget how many hours a year are wasted digging in backpacks for the assignment that should have been ready at the beginning of class.

Forget how many hours a year are wasted dealing with computer problems.

I'd like to know...

How many hours a year are wasted watching Ms. HappyChyck
--reduced to a cartoon-character of a teacher--
as she struggles to get the projector screen to stay down?

The Great Shoelace Rebellion

I heard whisperings that Friday would be No-Shoelace Day. I didn't think anything of it because there is a group of 8th graders who like to declare special dress-up days on Fridays. We've already had Greaser Day (in remembrance of a group of boys who were at our school last year) and Cowboy Day (uhm, yea) this year. It's a pretty small group of students, mostly girls, who have their little fun, and considering these little theme days must work within our dress code (solid colors, and collared shirts), an outsider probably would not even realize they were dressed differently. It mostly has to do with hair and accessories, of course.

Before school started on Friday I had dozens of students in my classroom trying to print their weekly assignments for Ms. Social Studies, and while they were in line, many of them were discussing whether they would remove their shoelaces or not. As it turns out, one of their classmates was written up for dress code violation because he had taken the shoelaces out of his shoes. Of course, this was just wrong in their eyes because there isn't any such rule about not having shoelaces. So, they were going to show those deans and not wear their shoelaces, too.

A couple of students asked to borrow safety pins on Friday morning, and it turns out they were using them to hold their shoes on after they removed their laces. Once I learned what they needed the safety pins, I reminded them that shoelaces serve a purpose. Determined to make a point, they ignored me while shuffling around with the tongues of their Chucks flopping around.

Ah, the rebellion! Cracks me up.

I decided that perhaps they didn't want to hear the reason why not having shoelaces might be a problem. God forbid that we should have to evacuate the school with these loose-shoed teens. And people, that is not a far-fetched idea. We've had fires at our school twice in the years I've been here, and just last week we had to evacuate because of a gas leak on the adjacent construction site of our new school. Oh, well. I'm an adult. I'm way over 30, and I don't know anything.

Instead, I went next door to share laughter with the 7th grade English teacher who had my group of students last year. We giggled and rolled our eyes over our goofy kids. She told me that particular group of students did have a tendency to get riled up. She admitted that had she not been a first year teacher last year, she might have been able to channel their rebellious energy into something positive. (Sounds like a challenge to me, doesn't it?)

I'm not sure if anything came of the great rebellion. I know a few students were late to class because they were detained so they could lace their shoes. I also know the student who had first endured the injustice earned himself two days of detention, but I don't know if it was related to his shoelaces.

Throughout the day I'd hear snippets of conversation related to the shoelace rebellion, but it wasn't until after lunch that I found a copy of the student handbook where I looked up the dress code. Okay, so I fell down on the job because it plainly says (in kid speak, not lawyer speak) that if students wear shoes that have laces, those laces should be laced. Of course rather than being mildly amused by their antics, I should have set them straight and enforced the code. Oops!

I do feel a little bad for my students, though. The code pertaining to shoes is black and white. There was nothing to dispute. Those shoes came with laces? Wear them! Poor kids wasted their energy on an issue where they were clearly in the wrong.

I'm sure they'll find a better cause next week.

Be Nimble

We don't use lockers at our school. I think it has to do with overcrowding issues. We check out textbooks for students to take home and leave there for the year so they don't have to pack a bunch of books around.

However, most students still have plenty of binders and notebooks that they need to carry to each class in giant Jansport backpacks. As you can imagine, it is sometimes hard to walk down the aisles in my classroom with all the backpacks. But wait! Don't forgot the laptop cases, the gym bags, and the occasional musical instrument. My students have some serious baggage.

Although, I'm constantly leaping and tripping over student stuff, I've never actually fallen down. (Knock on wood.) It used to irritate me that I can't even comfortably walk around my own classroom, but then I decided that constantly running obstacle courses (it changes each period and each day) keeps me young and spry. At least once a day I do trip and appear to nearly fall. Some students inevitably get a chuckle, but I blow it off: "As if that doesn't happen a dozen times a day!"

Today I walked into a colleague's room while the students were watching a video. It was dark, and my eyes hadn't adjusted by the time I started my way to the back of the room. I ended up doing (in my mind) a typical tiny trip where I caught myself by going into a double flip, a leap and then another trip until I came out at the end of the row. Very graceful.

Okay, for those whose eyes were adjusted to the dark, what it really looked like was Ms. HappyChyck nearly tripping over over three backpacks and a cello case before stumbling into the teacher's desk at the back of the room.

In any case, there was applause. And laughing... But applause, too!

I'm that good.

(Knock on wood, again.)

The Nerve

I just found out tonight that I won't be paid for my part-time night school teaching job until the end of next month. Now, I'm well aware of the fact that there's always a delay in these kinds of things, and we only get paid for extra duty-type things on the paycheck at the end of month, but I was certainly expecting my first payment at the end of this month.

What the cause? Apparently my position is being paid by a grant this year, and at the district level there was a screw up about the availability of those funds for me to be paid this month. The secretary was really nice--and concerned and apologetic--about it, and she apparently told the principal that she hoped we (a couple of other teachers are in the same boat) didn't quit over this. Nay, I wouldn't quit, but I'm irritated.

I was ten times irritated when I found out that the principal said, "Oh, they won't mind." Really? Is that what he thinks of us? That we wouldn't mind working for three months without seeing any pay? Perhaps he's like to do that! Now, it might be different if the principal knew me, and if he perhaps he knew I spent my extra pay on shoes or Urban Decay cosmetics. But the man doesn't know me. What if I work this extra job to pay my $3o0 electric bills? (Imagine my shock when I got my first electric bill at our new house.) What if I work to pay off student loans? What if I work so I can retire early? What if I were a single mother trying to raise her kids on one income only?

Seriously! The nerve of some people thinking that I wouldn't mind teaching for free.

(Okay, it's technically, not free at all since I will get paid eventually, but you know what I mean...)

A Good Day with Students and Will

This week I had one of those teacher moments when I was just so proud and happy that I just wanted to cry.

I took a sixty students to see Twelfth Night in a Shakespeare-in-the-schools type of program. This little field trip had been the works since last spring when I attended a Saturday seminar, which was a requirement for me to be invited to bring students to the program. Another teacher who had participated in the program in the past has helped along the way, and she helped me organize the whole thing and then also helped chaperone.

We left the school quite early in the morning so we could arrive at the theater on time even if there were problems and so that we could possible get good seats. I warned the students up front that it would be a day of hurry up and wait. You know like Disneyland. We were going to hurry up and get there, but it was likely that we'd be there 30 minutes before the performance. Afterward, we'd have to wait to be dismissed by school, and then we'd have to hurry to board the bus so we could get back in time for lunch at school.

I also did the quick lesson on theater etiquette, where I told them they better be about to vomit if they need to go to the restroom during a performance, otherwise it wasn't happening. We also went over the difference in how we appreciate actors as opposed to athletes. There was some threatening going on, but then I also appealed to their pride when I mentioned the rumors that our students are the best behaved whenever we take them out on field trips. I wouldn't know, though, as I don't like field trips.

And wouldn't you know it? My students were so patient (we ended up being there an hour early because the performance didn't start on time thanks to other schools coming in late) and they earned a prize (a poster signed by all the actors) from the program directors for displaying exemplary theater etiquette. Of course, I took only the students who wanted to go to the performance, but there were some students that I wouldn't have expected to go. The wiggliest kid I've had in five years sat behind me, and he was even able to sit somewhat still during the waiting and the performance.

While we were all waiting, seated near the front of the theater, in this beautiful open-air pavilion, I looked over all my students who were quietly visiting with each other, excited for the performance to begin, and my heart just swelled. What a perfect day to share a theater experience with a wonderful group of students!

What my students don't know is that event will likely be a memory that sticks with them for life. How do I know? I remember the cool field trips I went on when I was a student (like the Ramses II exhibit more than 20 years ago), and I certainly remember the first Shakespearean performance I ever attended (much into my adulthood for that one). Oh, I know it wasn't the first Shakespearean play for many of them, but I know it will still stick with them, as it will with me, for quite some time.


P.S. Later in the day during class, the students asked what the other chaperone and I had been laughing at during the play. Parts were very funny! We've been working with the play for weeks now, but many of my students still did not know what was going on as they were watching the play. I'm bummed that they weren't as tickled as I was, but they've been exposed. Besides, they claimed that the other teacher and I were the only ones laughing. I'm not ashamed. I need a good laugh.

Let the Crippled Kid Do It

My students had to do group dramatic presentations today for our conclusion of our study of Twelfth Night. (We're going to see a performance this week, too!) I asked that one person in each group write the names of the people in the group and information about the scene on a large note card. This was the easiest way for me to record who was in each group and take notes on the presentations without spending all my time writing their names down.

One of the cards was barely legible, so I called out and asked who made the card for the group.

"Andy did it!"

"Oh, really? That's nice. Make the kid with a broken arm do the writing! Who's doing the thinking in that group?"

That was definitely a banging-my-head-on-the-wall moment. You have to love the kid who is struggling to write with his opposite arm but is so happy to pull his own share in the group--even if it's so wrong!

This reminds me of a student I had in summer school a few years back. When it was time to clean up the room at the end of the day, he had no problem getting down on the floor to pick up little bits of paper. Some of his classmates were too cool to clean up after themselves and each other, but not this kid. Yea, that would be the kid who had no fingers on his hands crawling around picking up bits of this and that. Amazing.

I love it when students don't treat their disabled classmates differently, and I love it even more when those disabled students don't let anything get in the way of living; however, isn't there a time when it's okay to help a kid out without injuring his pride? It's an interesting relationship between kindness and acceptance.

Where Would We Be Without Jack?

I bought a new flash drive for my publications staff this week. The old one had a tendency to hold files hostage, so it had to retire. We do virtually everything electronically, and at this time, the only way we can easily move newspaper articles to the editor is through a flash drive. Of course, we use a flash drive for various other things, too. It's an important tool to our staff.

When I plugged it in to my computer the first time, I couldn't stand to see the "Untitled" icon pop up. I just had to name the flash drive.

"Hey guys! What should we name our new flash drive?"

Of course, I had a lot of blank looks at that question.

"You know, when you put it in, it pops up with a name. We need a name."

"Uh, how 'bout Publications?" Duh, Ms. HappyChyck.

"Too boring. Too obvious. That was the name of the one we used to have. You know, the one that would take your articles by never given them back. We need something fun. How about Armando?"

I really only had a handful of staff members who wanted to play along with my little game, but that's all I needed. We negotiated different names, and it in the end it was almost named Bob. That's always a funny name. In the end, we settled for the hippest character played by my adolescent heart throb, Johnny Depp. That's right, our flash drive is name for pirate Jack Sparrow.

I know you were thinking maybe Tom Hansen, Edward Scissorhands, CryBaby, or Gilbert Grape. Any of those would have been wonderful, but none of them are pirates. And pirates are cool, matey!

Since his name is Jack, he probably should be named Jack Flash. But he's not.

It took a few minutes for my students to warm up to the idea that our flash drive had a name.

One of them would ask, "Can I use the flash drive?"

And I would reply, "You have to ask for it by name."

Sigh. "Can I use Jack Sparrow?"

Sure!

A few days have passed and everyone--even the serious boy who never speaks to us--asks for Jack by name.

I have to admit I have had my doubts about this little inside joke we have on the staff now. I try not to snicker though:

"Where's Jack?"
"I need to use Jack!"
"I don't know where Jack is."
"Who has Jack?"
"Maria has Jack. Go get him from her."
"Is Jack being used?"
"I'm using Jack!"

Indeed!