Fictional Twin

"Do you know a Keith that goes to this school?"

I did. There was a Keith in the seventh grade science class I had done the long-term assignment in.

It was passing period before fourth period. A boy named Kevin was claiming that this Keith was his twin. His classmates were dubious. I didn't have much information, so I stayed out of the discussion. And then it was time to start class.

It was French 2. The students in this discussion were in eighth grade. For the time I was there, Kevin maintained this story that he had a twin that went to the school.

I quickly figured out that this story is a fabrication. 

Because, while Keith does have a twin, that twin was in the same science period as Keith, and his name is Jared. 

Oh, and Keith is in seventh grade while Kevin is in eighth. (And Keith is white while Kevin is Black.) 

I'm not sure why I didn't bust Kevin, but I chose to stay out of this conversation and just watch from afar. 

The next time I had this group in class, Kevin had changed his story. No, Keith wasn't his twin. His twin's name was Kingsley. 

This was slightly more plausible as Kingsley actually has the same last name as Kevin. 

Funnily enough, I had met Kingsley as well. In the seventh grade science class. So, again, not his twin as Kevin is in eighth grade. 

I'm not sure what it is about that age, but they will tell stories that are clearly fabricated and they will try to get people to believe them. And they will maintain that they are telling the truth even when you have ample evidence that they are lying.

Perhaps that's why I chose to stay out of it. I didn't want to waste the energy.

Because, the kiddos were sucked into that conversation enough. They were sure he was lying, and they were working hard to disprove Kevin. But every reason they could find that Kevin was lying Kevin was able to rebut. 

Did they get their French work done? I hope so. But eighth graders. They can get distracted by just about anything.

What the Swear?

Wednesday, fifth period. French 1. 

(I ended up covering a week of French classes. It was one of those assignments that I picked up at 11:30 PM Sunday night for two days, and then it got extended into the full week. Sometimes the gigs happen like that.)

The teacher had left them a list of things to do in their Google Classrooms that I only got passing glimpses of. (It included this article about France.) So, I wasn't sure what they were up to when one group was urging a classmate to repeat something. In French.

Okay, so I took French in school. A while ago. But I think I know more than the French 1 students do. Still, I couldn't figure out what it was they were trying to say.

It sounded like "gen-tel-main". I interpreted it as je t'aime. I repeated this back to them. They said that was it. The boy asked what he was saying. I translated: "I love you". 

No, that's not what they were going for. (Not shocked.)

The way they were asking the boy to repeat it? The way they were going about trying to say something? Yeah, they were trying to swear. They were trying to get the boy to say something not polite. 

They pulled up Google Translate. I hovered over their shoulders, watching. They ended up with je t'emmène. "I'll take you." 

Huh? 

With me watching, they couldn't very well go for what they actually were trying to say. They acted like that was it. Sure. Whatever.

Everyone else seems to learn how to swear in other languages, but those lessons seem to pass me by. Otherwise, I would have had a better idea of what they were actually trying to say. Because, that? Nope. That was what one says in front of the teacher when the teacher is paying attention.

Their teacher, who is actually French, likely has a better idea of what they were trying to say. So, I sketched the scene for her in my note, and she can figure it out. She's the kind of teacher that goes over the sub note with the class (she said she would). I can just imagine how that conversation is going to go. 

It's always fun to encounter these kiddos later when they learn that I do actually write these things down. Especially when they thought it was play time with the teacher gone. *cackles*

I Voted, So Please Shut Up

What if? It's the basis of many stories. We ask. We ponder. We wonder. 

On Tuesdays I throw one out there. What if? It may be speculative. It may stem from something I see. It may be something I pull from the news. 

Make of it what you will. If a for instance is not specified, interpret that instance as you wish. And if the idea turns into a story, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements 😉

I live in California. They now send all registered voters mail-in ballots. I got mine about a week and a half ago. (And I returned it all filled in a week ago.)

We have the option of doing the mail-in ballot or going to our polling place on election day. There's also early in-person voting. Options. 

And I'd like one more option...

What if those who have already submitted their ballots could opt out of all the political ads? What if there was a way to just "I voted" out of the TV commercials? What if the various campaigns could find out who returned a ballot so they wouldn't waste their time mailing out the various flyers?

Eyeing the Sweater

It. Is. Finished.

Finally.

(Only four months late...)

I pushed through last week and got the bottoms of the sleeves completed:

It's not quite how the reference picture looks, but at this point, I'm calling it good enough. 

So, what got me over the finish line? A couple days off work. Cooler weather. And not being in the long-term assignment. I had a bit more mental energy to figure out what I needed and push through.

Now I get to mail this off to my niece. The timing's good as she should be able to wear it now. It would have been nice if I had gotten it to her in time for her birthday, but oh well. (Her birthday was in June.) 

This is why I can't "design" stuff to a deadline. (Although, I didn't design it. I just copied a picture. Which is harder in a way.) There are too many things I need to think about, and that takes time. I can deal with deadlines better if I have a pattern to work off of.

If I had known it was going to take fifteen posts to get the sweater complete, I would not have done the eyeball puns for titles. Or maybe I would have. It was fun, in a way.

Now, I have to figure out what project I'm going to work on next.

Eye sweater previous posts:

• Eyeing a New Project
  
• Seeing Some Progress
• Second Sight
• Envisioning the Next Step
• Glaring and Sniffling
• Surveying the Sweater
• Looking Towards Sleeves
• Watching More Progress
• Regarding an Omission
• Eyeballing the Sleeves
• Can't Quite See It
• Witnessing Another Bout of Yarn Chicken
• Current Views of the Sweater
• Cross-Eyed

Familiar Faces

Friday. Seventh grade English.

I glanced at the class roster. Yup, I knew many of those names...

Fourth period. Out of a class of 22, 12 had been in the science class I had left just one week prior.

Immediately, Julian pounced. "Why did you give me a 13 on my lab safety poster?"

Julian is one of those overachiever-type kids. Good student. Anxious. 

I graded the posters by rubric, 20 points total. (So, 13 is 65%.) 

And... I don't really pay attention to names when I'm grading. And 175 students. Do I remember what each student got on the poster? Nope. I don't even remember what Julian's poster looked like.

I said something of the sort. I'm sure his grade is still just fine. (And I gave Mr. H carte blanche when it came to adjusting grades on the posters if he wished. That he didn't tells me he wasn't going to bother.) 

Once class got started, there was a dispute between two boys. Myles and Clayton (I'm talking about Clayton in #8 of this list). Clayton had stolen Myles' water bottle and drank from it. (Clayton said he pretended to drink from it.) Myles was upset as the bottle was now nearly empty when it hadn't been before.

Oh, Myles could not be consoled. Then he said that Clayton had put grass in the bottle. (As Clayton had never left the room, I wasn't sure how he accomplished this.) Myles dumped out the remaining water, and now he was upset that he had no water. I pointed out that the school had water fountains made to fill water bottles. But the school water was warm and didn't taste good. Myles had had "good" water that was cold.

Deep sigh.

It was one thing after another with Myles. His table mates were antagonizing him. He couldn't do something else. On and on and on. (He's that kid. So, none of this surprised me.)

Then, Corbin. "The teachers at this school all hate me."

I told him I was sure that wasn't true. 

"What? You hate me."

I denied this. Because, I don't hate him. He annoys me. But hate? Nope. 

It was a day of constant motion, keeping the kiddos contained. But many actually did the assignment. (They were completing a storyboard based on a story they read: "Thank You, M'am" by Langston Hughes.) Typical seventh grade stuff.

An Open Door

Thursday found me back at the middle school where I had done the long-term for Ms. S, and, in fact, I was covering a classroom just across the way. 

Snack was between the first and second blocks of the day. As is my habit, I left the classroom to head to the restroom. On the way, I ran into another sub I know, and we compared notes. (It's a good thing I took that long-term assignment as gigs have been a little sparse this year.) 

On my way back to the classroom, I noticed an open classroom door. It took me a moment to realize it was the room I was in. 

Um, had I not closed the classroom door when I left? I knew I had. I generally check the door before I leave, too. Then how had someone gotten in? And, more importantly, why? (Because mostly the kiddos will see no one's in the room and leave.)

When I got to the room, I immediately knew what had happened. Mr. F (the teacher I was subbing for) was there.

I've subbed for Mr. F many times in the past. (This is the Mr. F from the tortilla slap.) We know each other. 

Mr. F leads a middle school leadership group (called We All Belong), and they were going to do a thing the next day with popsicles. There was a popsicle freezer in his room, but it was empty. Mr. F was filling it with popsicles. 

(I didn't actually peek. The previous day a student had walked by, gotten curious, and asked the leadership class if he could get a popsicle. They said no. The student poked his nose in the freezer anyway, only to find there was nothing there.) 

Mr. F had a few students helping, and his best teaching buddy was there, too. (I've subbed for Ms. B as well. Mr. F and Ms. B are pretty much attached at the hip most days. They've been like this for years.) 

They finished filling the freezer. The student helpers were compensated with popsicles. I chatted with the other two teachers for a bit until the bell rang. Then Mr. F was back to wherever he was for the day, Ms. B went back to wherever she was for the day (she had a sub as well), and as Mr. F had a conference period, I went off to another room to cover a class there. 

Just another subbing day. 

(When I cover Mr. F's classes, more often than not I see him at some point during the day. He isn't sick often. Usually when he's out, it's for school business reasons.) 

Newbie Mistake

Monday found me back on the day-to-day subbing grind. I got to cover high school biology. 

And... It was kind of a boring day, really. This, of course, is what I want, and seriously, it's how many of my subbing days go. The kiddos had a project to work on. Most did. Some did not, but they didn't disturb those who were working. 

Fifth period, my last class of the day. I checked attendance on the seating chart, and then I walked the room. Someone asked a question. 

Nothing of note really happened.

The class left at the bell. I checked to make sure their computers were plugged in. (They put them away, but they did not plug them to charge overnight.) I got ready to pack up...

Wait. Did I input the attendance? 

I had not logged out of my computer yet, so I checked. And sure enough, I did not.

What am I, new? 

Yikes. you'd think I wouldn't forget one of the basics after a month and a half in a long-term. 

Sadly, I did. Well, at least I didn't completely forget. Phew.