Offloading the Worry

Friday. First period, learning center. 

There is a classroom on campus where the special ed students can go to take their tests in a quieter environment. Each special ed teacher covers it for one period in their schedule. It's basically like an extra prep period as most days no one shows up. 

The bell hadn't even rung yet when Nerine arrived. She explained that she had a test in her anatomy class, but she was first going to go to the health office. That's when the phone rang. It was her teacher, informing me of her arrival. Mr. M said that she was anxious about the test, and that I should make sure she wasn't on her phone. No problem.

A few days prior, I had seen a short video on social media from a professor. 

tl;dw: He said that before a test, students should take out a sheet of paper, and they should write down everything that was worrying them. He said it would help them focus once it was time to take the test. 

Sometimes I cover classes on test days. I filed this info away as something that might one day be useful. I might suggest a class do this. 

When Nerine returned, I realized that she was the perfect beta test. I did not require her to do this, but I told her I had seen this idea on social media, and she was free to try it if she liked. We got her a piece of paper, and she started writing. 

She was done in maybe a minute. (The professor suggested taking ten minutes before the exam.) Since she was done, I said to go ahead and start the test. (The test was online, so we had also been waiting for Mr. M to unlock it.) 

Nerine and I talked a bit while she was taking her test. She said having a conversation helps her focus. The quiet didn't help her anxiety. It was then that she explained that she suffered debilitating anxiety, and this is when I gleaned that perhaps her trip to the health office was to take meds she had prescribed for her anxiety. 

It did not take her too long to finish up. When she wanted to talk, I talked to her. We did not discuss her test at all. The topics were about Halloween (this was last Friday) and a party her family was giving, and her desire to become a doctor. 

After she finished the test, I told her she could do whatever she wanted with the paper. I expected her to throw it out. But she folded it up and said she was going to show her parents. She said it actually helped. That was good to know.

As the test was online, it was graded immediately. Nerine got an A. 

Plotting My Demise

Thursday. Eighth grade English. Sixth period. 

I was covering the special ed teacher of a co-taught class. I've worked with and for Ms. R many, many times (like the long-term when she was on maternity leave, and she mentioned how her son started kindergarten this year. Yikes). So, I sat back and listened as she explained the project to the kiddos. 

They had just finished reading The Lord of the Flies. After turning in their notes packet for the book, the kiddos were assigned a final project. And as many of you are writers, I think you might find this project really fun. 

The kiddos were to write a story, could be in journal form, but also could be narrative. They were to imagine that they, along with an adult chaperone and up to fifteen of their friends, were going on a field trip on a plane over the water. They crash. They end up on a deserted island. 

The story was to be told in three parts: day or two after the crash, a few weeks into life on the island, and ending with a rescue (or not). Each part was to be 500 words. The adult chaperone does not make it, and must be dispatched in the first part, within a day of the crash. The other kiddos can survive or not. 

Ms. R said that their story did not need to resemble the book they read and it could include fantasy elements. They got points for "entertainment value", so making the teacher laugh was encouraged. 

And when it came to the doomed chaperone, Ms. R said she had been killed off myriad ways in previous years. She said that one student was angry at Mr. J, so they had him eaten by a snake. 

After the detailed instructions, Ms. R had them get into groups (if they wanted to work with a partner) and get brainstorming. 

As I walked the room answering questions (I had a pretty good grasp of what Ms. R was looking for), I heard my name. Which was odd. 

At no point on this day had I been introduced to the kiddos. My name was not on the board. (Usually Ms. R says something, but she got distracted by something and missed it.) But, I have had these kiddos in various classes before, so many of them have met me. 

I wasn't being called. But I heard my name. I approached the boy. He said that he was going to use me as the chaperone in his story. I nodded. I pointed out that I would then have to die somehow in the story (or be abducted or have something happen that removed me from the group). He pondered this. 

Oddly, I felt honored to be considered for his story. 

Then one girl was very upset. Another student informed her that she was going to be one of the fellow students in her story. I pointed out that she could then include her in her story and kill her off as revenge. She was oddly comforted by this. 

I will not ever know how these stories turned out. But really, I don't begrudge Ms. R all the grading she'll have to do once those stories are turned in.

A Bad Note?

Tuesday. Seventh grade world history (advanced). Fourth period. 

It was day two of a two-day assignment, but the school is on block schedule, so this was the first time I met the class. So far, the classes had been hit or miss. First period the previous day and second period on this day were both pretty good. Third and fifth period hadn't been so good. 

The kiddos had a basic sub assignment. They had textbook questions to answer. And the clear expectation was that the kiddos would work quietly and independently. 

Fourth period came into class asking if they would get their break. Mr. R had not mentioned anything about a break in the lesson plan, but ninety minutes is a long time for twelve year olds, so I was willing. But, the previous day giving a break had been a mistake. The kiddos did not get back to work after it. So I was leery. 

But it was an advanced class. What could go wrong? 

Yeah, well, it was also a seventh grade class. 

They had work to do. They had worked quietly before the break. After? Yeah, they wouldn't stop talking. 

I think the note I wrote their teacher describes it best: 

“We’re getting a bad note, aren’t we?”

Well, that depends on you, really, and how you take my description of how the class actually behaved. As I listened to them trying to shush themselves and failing and Jasper declaring that you’d be executing them on Thursday, I laughed. And they took that as a bad sign. 

Once they settled in at the beginning of the period, they worked well. Quietly. Cooper initially asked if they would get their five minute break (he said they get it at 10:50, and then he said that the break’s been moving around a little), and I said we’d see. At 10:52, Cooper asked if they could have their break. I said okay.

Mistake.

After five minutes, I called time. Asked them to go back to their seats and get back to quiet. (They were silent before the break.) They did not get back to quiet. They tried. But they were easily distracted, and while many would stop talking, a couple would say something, and they were back to general conversations again. 

Around and around it went. I found it entertaining. They were sure you would be angry. They considered bringing in bribes. (It’ll be interesting if they do bring in bribes for you.) Then the conversations turned to other things. Most of them had finished the visual questions at this point. 

There was some inappropriate language. There was a little conflict. (...names redacted...) But mostly it was just 7th graders being 7th graders. Several discussed assignments (science, the civics assn, English). And such. 

But I’ve had way worse days and way worse classes. They weren’t great, but they weren’t terrible. Is this a bad note? 

So, is that a bad note? Hard to tell. I did not get a chance to see the teacher or any of the students after. I assume they're still alive. But I so wish I could find out if they did actually bring in stuff to bribe Mr. R with. That would have been funny. 

I Can't Look

According to BallotTrax, my ballot for this election was accepted on October 19th. I did my part. Did you do yours? 

Now we can sit back and watch the regime play its tricks. Will they succeed? 

Remember, they're the party of corruption. 

In case you were wondering, here is how the votes are counted. 

I've got a long day planned. Work, then I'm getting my hair done after work. I probably won't be watching the returns. It's too nerve-wracking. 

Will you be watching the returns tonight? Or what will you be doing to distract yourself from it all? 

Potty Pal's First Week

New:

After three-days' use:

Not bad. It's on a lanyard that they're supposed to wear around their necks. Most put it in their pocket. 

The brown is the roll the paper sits on. That's where I put the hardware that connects it to the lanyard. As you can see, the end came out. This is the second try. I buried that end carefully after it came loose the first day, but still... 

I need to attach the hardware differently. Otherwise, I like the way this worked. I did not lose it, and even better, I did not lose the teacher's restroom pass. So, it's a win, although a win with reservations. 

Last week I explained this whole project. The pattern I used is here. 

Where would you put the hook? Can you see a better way to attach it? 

A Request

Friday. Continuation high school. English. 

There were no lesson plans in the classroom. I have subbed for this teacher a few times, and she usually has lesson plans. As I headed back to the main office to see if she had emailed the plans, coming my way was Ms. E. Ah, phew. 

Ms. E was on campus doing some curriculum planning, and she hadn't had a chance to leave the plans for the day as she headed out the previous day. The class was to do their district writing assessment, which is something I am very familiar with. 

I had had time to set up for the day before I went in search of lesson plans, so as Ms. E showed me where their packets were, she noticed my water bottles. My water bottles are covered in knitting. 

(These pictures are old. I've been using these sleeves for years now. I even made a video how-to for the purple one.) 

The conversation turned to my water bottle decorations. And how she wanted one. Or, rather three. One for her daughter. One for her daughter-in-law. And one for her son's girlfriend, who she called a daughter-in-law even though she's not technically one (as the son and she are not married, but they are in a long-term relationship). 

I mean, I can make them. I should really be working on the reluctant sweater. I am doing a side quest with the potty pals. But sure, why not add on some water bottle sleeves? 

Someone really needs to get working on the thing she should be working on. 

Ms. E asked me how much I'd charge. I don't know. Anyone know what they'd be willing to pay for these? It's hard to know what's fair, really. 

Anyway, the kiddos didn't seem to get much done on their essays (or rather, their essay writing prep, as it was read-the-sources day), but they did it quietly. At least, those that were in class were quiet. Many of them wanted to help build the haunted house they build on campus each year (and invite community members to). 

Drawing Inferences

Wednesday. Seventh grade English. 

This was a new-to-me teacher. (She's also new to the school, but she's not new to the district. Last year she was at the continuation high school. I saw some gigs pop up from her, but I always missed them.) The classroom she's in used to belong to an eighth grade history teacher (who retired at the end of the last school year). 

(For fun I went into the archives. I subbed for Mr. C in this room on this day and on this day.)

Ms. V had left very detailed lesson plans. She had written their detailed agenda on the board. What could go wrong? 

Seventh graders. 

They were to read a excerpt from the novel Feed in their textbook, and they had questions to go along with it. This is a very basic, very standard type of assignment for a sub day. It should have been easy. 

But nope. I offered to have us read the story as a class. No, they could read it on their own. But, they were not reading. I pointed out that reading requires them to not be talking, because one can't talk and read at the same time. I mean, I'm way old (compared to them), and I can't do it, so I know they can't do it. 

They did not see my point. They claimed they could read and talk. (If they were reading together, that would have been fine, but that sounds a whole lot different than random conversations that have nothing to do with the assignment.) 

But somehow, they got to the point where they were answering the questions. And I got the same question from several of them. Do we have to draw? 

Draw? I went to investigate. 

The question asked them to "draw an inference" from the text. Two of the characters were having a conversation, but the text explicitly stated that the two characters were not speaking. So, how were they having the conversation? 

The excerpt was from a sci-fi novel where everyone is implanted with a computer feed. I'm hazy on details as I haven't read the book, but I quickly inferred that they were using this computer feed to telepathically (or something) communicate, maybe like texting. 

The problem? They had no idea what "infer" meant. (Although, from the context of the question, it should have been clear they were writing an answer, not drawing a picture.) 

After explaining this three times, it was time to explain it to the whole class, as there comes a point when it's clear that most of the class will have the same question, and repeating the answer for each and every student gets tedious quickly. 

Were they able to infer? Well, kind of. When I explained that they had to figure it out even though it wasn't stated in the text, they got that. But, they were also seventh graders with a sub. They weren't working as diligently as they might with their teacher. 

Although, when I left my note about how many of them weren't making very good use of their time, Ms. V emailed back that she had similar problems with them not doing their work. 

I was very much not surprised at that. I could infer from their behavior that they were not in the habit of taking their schoolwork seriously. Seventh graders. Some of them will learn the hard way that they should really take their schoolwork seriously.