Famous

Thursday. Criminalistics. 

It was passing period, so I was stationed at the door, greeting students as they entered. A boy entered, then he came back out. He asked if he could go to the restroom.

This is not a notable occurrence. This happens daily. What was notable was how he asked me, calling me by my name. 

I had not written my name up on the board. (The board was covered by a screen. There was no place for me to put my name.) 

It always startles me when they know my name. Considering how many long terms I've done in the past couple years, and considering how many of the students I did recognize in the classes, it was not out of the question that I had had him in class before. Or that he knew who I was.

But it still, I feel like they don't know who I am.

They know who I am. 

Not a bad thing, really. 

Distracted Boys

Wednesday. Middle school "success". 

Success is a class strongly suggested for a certain type of student--the kind of student who isn't doing so well in school. It's an elective, and while the classes tend to be smaller, they also tend to have more of the kind of student who is more likely to act out. 

But, luckily, on this day, the class had guest speakers. 

The schools now have a thing called a wellness center. It's a place where students who need a mental break can go. The two speakers were from the school's wellness center, and apparently they meet with the class regularly. So, the kiddos were used to them.

Once I had taken roll, I let the guest speakers take over. I sat down and wrote up my notes from the previous group. (The rest of the day I had seventh grade math.) 

Only, I couldn't tune out completely. I noticed a couple boys in the back of the room, not engaging with the lesson. Uh oh...

I chose proximity as my method of classroom control. I went over and sat right behind them.

Jefferson asked to use the bathroom. 

So, now it was only me and Orson. By my presence, I got Orson to put away his cell phone. But he was still bored. So, he pulled out a jar or something and managed to get a clump of some white substance with the consistency of lotion on his desk. 

All the while, the guest speakers were discussing active listening. There were video clips. They were asking the students to identify what the speakers were doing and whether they were active listening well. They were giving out raffle tickets for any response: correct or not. 

Orson, however, was now determined to clean up the mess on his desk. He started by using tissue, which was inadequate to the task. I told him to get paper towels, which luckily the teacher had on the other side of the room. He got up and brought back one paper towel.

So, Orson had to get up multiple times (rather than bringing back enough paper towels to complete the task in one go). During one of these trips, Orson noticed that his raffle tickets had been destroyed in the gloop. He asked me for more. Well, it wasn't my lesson.

So, Orson asked one of the guest speakers to replace his tickets. She said no. (And I managed to keep the smile off my face.) 

Around this time, Jefferson returned from the bathroom. And he wanted to know what he had missed. But I'm of the mind that if one needed the bathroom in the middle of a lesson, it is on that student to figure out what was missed while he was gone. So, I wasn't going to catch him up (not that he was paying attention before he left, anyway). 

Finally, Orson got his mess cleaned up. And Jefferson settled back into his seat. My proximity wasn't helping settle either of them. Sigh. 

The guest speakers finished their presentation, so it was time for the raffle. They drew five names. Guess who was one of the names? (It wasn't Orson as his raffle tickets were destroyed.) 

Ms. M wasn't terribly surprised by the names left in my note to her. She's pretty strict, so I imagine Jefferson and Orson might not like the consequences of their inattention.

Financial Interest in the Outcome

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 😉

This month I have fallen into a "what if?" mini theme: the U.S. election. And today is no different. 

Are you sick of the political ads yet? In California, we are inundated with ads for and against the various propositions on the ballot. They get old quick.

While one of these ads was on in the background, I had a weird thought. I wondered how much money the ones who funded the ad would lose if the vote went the other way. (I can't remember which proposition it was for and whether they were for or against it.) Because, seriously. Why else spend so much money to get these ads to play all the freaking time?

And that leads me to this week's "what if?"...

What if they were required to disclose in political ads how much money the funder of said ad would gain if the vote goes their way? (Or, conversely, what if they were required to disclose how much money they would lose if the vote went against them?)

In Between Days

It's that time again. The between major projects time. I don't know what big thing I want to make next now that I've finished the big thing I've been working on for a while. So, I did a bit of this and a bit of that.

I did some clearing out of my closet, and I found my six-year afghan...

I made this in the '90s. I found the pattern in a magazine. I bought the yarn from WalMart. I thought I'd finish it quickly. But, I got bored and busy with other things, so it became one of those projects that I worked on off and on until I finally finished it. 

I've mentioned it on the blog before, but when I went to look for pictures, I didn't have any. So, when I pulled it out of my closet, I knew I had to take a quick picture before I packed it away again. 

I pulled out some yarn and found patterns, but not much has gotten started. 

I did, however, start making a video. Another one. For my YouTube channel. Considering how long these things take me, don't expect to see it for months, if not a whole year. 

I think this outtake is short enough that I can post it directly here:

I counted the stitches. I was going to transfer some to another needle, but then I dropped the needle. And I decided I could do another take without dropping the needle.

I had a great outtake where I totally dropped a stitch, tried to put it back on the needle, and failed. And failed again. But that one was too long for Blogger without going through YouTube first. Sigh. 

What am I making? I'll tell you when I get the whole video finished. It's nowhere near complete yet.

But I do have a completed video to get uploaded. I'd love to say I'll get to it this week, but who knows? I pledge to have it uploaded by the end of November. (I think I can manage that.) 

Catcalls

Friday. Beginning ELD.

(ELD stands for English language development. This is the class for recent immigrants. Beginning means they don't speak any English yet, so they're very recent immigrants.) 

Mr. F had left a jam-packed lesson plan, and I was struggling with the technology. And, of course, the instructional aide was running late.

(For reference, Mr. F is the teacher who took over the vacant middle school English class in 2019 that I started the year in. He's still in the same classroom. And the instructional aide, Ms. R, is the IA I had when I did the summer academy in 2022. In other words, they both know me, and I know them.)

By the time Ms. R arrived, I had gotten the technology going, had gotten their notebooks passed out, and was just getting into the lesson. Ms. R kind of took over as she knew the routine and could slip into Spanish to help the kiddos understand what they had to do.

(While the majority of the class were from Spanish speaking countries, there were a couple students who spoke Arabic and a couple who spoke Vietnamese. I can't recall what the fourth language was, though. It's always a mix in these classes.) 

As Ms. R was discussing something with them, half the class broke into whistles...

Ms. R stopped what she was doing to explain to the group why whistling was inappropriate. 

She does this from time to time. One time in the winter she explained why even though the sun was shining, they needed to wear a jacket. (Our climate is weird.) And she'll point out things that they might not know as newcomers to this part of the world.

The whistling discourse hit on how disrespectful it was to women and the sorts of things you'd want boys to learn. And then Ms. R turned back to the board to get back into the lesson. (They were writing sentences like, "The third day of the week is Wednesday," and "The seventh month is July".) 

Just as Ms. R turned around, another student whistled...

Oh, she wasn't having that. She sent that student out for that.

Because, seriously? The first time, sure. They don't know better. But the second time? Nope.

Later, Ms. R had a serious conversation with the student. Mostly in Spanish, so I wasn't listening. (And it was snack time, so I went in search of a restroom.) But later, she talked to me about it.

The big question was, what's going on in that seventh grader's life that he felt the need to call attention to himself like that? Which is a very good question.

Beginning ELD classes can be tricky. Behavior issues crop up. We wonder what sort of schooling they had prior to ending up here. But kids are kids, and they'll do the sorts of things you'd expect.

More Seventh Grade

Wednesday. I was covering seventh grade English. (This was a different school than where I did the science long-term, so no familiar faces this day.) 

The kiddos had read a piece in their books by Maya Angelou called "New Directions", and their assignment for the day was to answer two questions about it. 

Only two questions? Yes. First, that was not the plan for the whole period (this was to take them about twenty minutes). And second, they were to answer the questions in a specific way, using textual evidence.

They had done something similar in sixth grade (the sixth and seventh grade teachers meet once a year to coordinate things), but not to this extent. But this is the natural progression as each year the English teachers have them build their writing skills by taking them to the next level.

Ms. L left me slides to go over, and we did the first question (of three, they did two on their own) together.

Oh, the whining...

It's nice when the teachers leave me something to do where I get to teach as opposed to giving the kiddos independent work. Instead of dealing with bored students not wanting to work, I got to do something with them. 

But still, seventh grade. Keeping their focus is a challenge.

Somehow, this has become a year of seventh grade for me. So far, anyway. Funny how these themes find me, depending on the year. 

(Want to feel old? This year's seventh graders are the class of 2030.)

Worried Anticipation

Back when I was a newbie sub, I had days where I'd show up to a classroom only to discover that the teacher wasn't going to be out for the day. The teacher would be surprised there was a sub. It would turn out that there was an error somewhere, and I would be dispatched somewhere else (as the district made the error, not me). 

This has not happened for years now. But, I'm always a bit uncertain. That anxiety has never fully gone away.

Tuesday. I had picked up the assignment a couple weeks prior. But, when I arrived in the classroom, I found no lesson plans. And I got paranoid.

I have subbed for Ms. G in the past. She leaves detailed sub plans. But nothing. 

So, I didn't do my usual settling into the day. Normally I put my name on the board, figure out where my bag will live for the day, set up the computer with my note and the attendance and such. I waited to see what was going to happen.

And then the classroom phone rang...

The caller ID said it was the teacher. And I was relieved. (I knew she had to be calling to give me lesson plans.)

Turns out, Ms. G had planned to be on campus for her virtual training, but she had gotten sick over the weekend, so she was doing the virtual training at home. Because she had planned to be on campus, she hadn't left her lesson plans. (It had been a three-day weekend with Monday off.) 

I don't think I'll ever fully believe a teacher isn't going to show up and be, "Sub? What sub? I don't need a sub," until I see the lesson plans. Even though it's been over a decade since this has been an issue. 

(The photography classes were mostly fine. My major issue with the day was a migraine that I'd been dealing with for a couple days.) 

Compulsory Vote

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 have heard that there are countries where everyone is required to vote. Considering how low voter turnout can be in the U.S., I wondered a few things. (Although, my brain made a weird turn, and I thought about how that would affect voter suppression.) Anyway...

What if voting was required of every U.S. citizen over the age of 18? 

Eyeing the Sweater, Modeled

Over a week ago I finished the crocheted eye sweater:

I got it in the mail Tuesday (Monday was a holiday). It arrived Friday. I immediately got a text from Liv. She declared she was obsessed. And of course she included a photo:

(Several of you expressed your hope you'd see it modeled, so here it is.)

She also posted it to Instagram:

And she's asked how much I would charge to make another one. Apparently her friends would like one, too.

I'm not sure how I feel about that.

And I never know how much to ask for.

(The yarn alone was about $40. So, more than that. But how much more? How much would you be willing to pay for something like that?)

Familiar Faces, Part 2

When I left the seventh grade science class, I told the kiddos that it wasn't goodbye. It was "see you around". Because I would see them again. And again. And again.

Friday. I was asked to cover an extra period, seventh grade history. And of the class of 33, I counted 18 names that I recognized (and once I was in the class, I noted a couple more faces that I recognized without remembering their names). Oh, and the history classroom was basically next door to the science classroom.

The good news was I knew more than half the class. The bad news was I knew more than half the class.

They were wound up, but it was the last period on a Friday of a minimum day, so I kinda knew that was coming. 

I caught two students with phones. Myles was there, but he kept his head down this time. Edgar kept calling me over for various reasons, ending with telling me he really wanted to learn to speak Korean. 

(And Keith, who was referenced in yesterday's post, was in this class. Without his twin.)

I'm rather surprised at how many names I learned in my thirty days in the science class. But it's helped me a lot. If I keep getting to cover seventh grade classes, I may even remember their names for longer than a school year.

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. 

Number Base Twelve

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 😉

This is my 4000th post. At least, that's what Blogger's little counter thingy says at the top of my screen. Which got me thinking about milestones...

What if our number system was based on 12? (Or 6? Or 7?)

(Because I was curious, my 3000th post was in 2020 and my 2000th post was in 2017.)

Cross-Eyed

Lisa was right. (See her comment on this post.) 

A couple weeks ago (on that post I linked to), I complained that I could not figure out what stitch was used on the example photo:

Lisa suggested trying an X stitch. So I did:

And now that I've done it, it looks pretty much like what that stripe looks like in the example. If it's not the same stitch used, it's close enough for what I'm doing. I'm keeping it.

Alas, that's as far as I got last week. And only on that one sleeve:

Good enough. 

We'll see how far I get on this thing this week. (Oh, and make sure to stop by tomorrow for my 4000th post. I'm kind of stunned that I've written that many blog posts. Yikes.)

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

One Last Thing

A sub credential only allows me to cover one class for up to thirty days. This was extended to sixty days the last couple of years, because *gestures to everything*. But it appears that we are sufficiently back to normal, and the number of days I can cover one class will remain at thirty.

Last Friday was day thirty of the school year. 

We all kept an eye on this, and the teacher next door (Ms. W) who's been supplying me with help and lesson plans kept an eye out for a sub to replace me. 

Ms. W realized that Mr. H might be a good next sub. (I wrote about him a few months ago.) And so, those that do these things got him all lined up. 

I asked for and got two days of transition. So, Mr. H started on Thursday. We had two days in the class together so I could pass off everything to him. 

The one thing I wanted to get finished before I left was grading the students' lab safety posters.

In about week three, the students got an assignment about lab safety. There were rules to read and activities to complete. The last activity was a poster they were to create about one of the lab safety rules. 

This particular assignment kept getting pushed back. The kiddos would get ten minutes to work on it, and then class would be over. I'd plan to give them more time for it, but the other lessons would take too much time. After three tries to find time in class to do it, I gave it up. I figured they just wouldn't get it done, and we could skip it.

But then it was test day, and there was about a half hour of class time to fill. Lab safety poster.

The whole thing was a mess, so leaving that mess of grading to Mr. H? Nope. Didn't want to do it. 

But, time just evaporated. I had a hair appointment Tuesday afternoon. Then Wednesday I got pulled into something else. And it was Thursday. The moments I might have stolen to do some grading were the moments I used to go over things Mr. H needed (and when Mr. H asked me questions about what he was unclear on). 

(On Thursday Mr. H taught about half of the lesson. On Friday he did all of it. He's good. The class is in good hands.) 

So, it was Friday. Class time was busy. (Sure, Mr. H taught the lesson, but I assisted. And they were doing a rotating stations thing, so having two adults was a good thing.) Finally, at the end of the day, I said I had to get those posters graded. 

Mr. H offered to do some of it. I observed that there were other assignments the kiddos had turned in. (Sure, I would have liked to have gotten those graded, too, but they were technically on his watch, so I felt less guilty leaving them to him.) 

In the end, I got five of the periods graded. Mr. H graded the last one. And I was able to leave the class having mostly gotten the grading from my time done.

And now I am once again free to join the subbing pool. Back to the day-to-day. And I don't feel even a little worried about the classes I left as I know they're in capable hands.

The Retest

The prior week the kiddos had their first test. And it went rather well.  

One of the things the seventh grade science teachers have been doing, though, is offering a retest. Any kiddo who wants to gets the opportunity to redo the test, keeping the higher of the two scores. 

There's a catch. They have to do a review paper before they can take the test. 

Wednesday, first period. I had five students (out of a class of thirty), turn in the review. 

When I mentioned the review, several students who probably should have attempted a retake decided not to. "Too much work." Okay, then.

One student who wanted a retake? She got nineteen on her first attempt. Out of twenty. 

She wanted that perfect score. 

And she got it. 

(I had a few perfect scores. Many nineteens. And eighteens. Like I said, the test went rather well.) 

Fifth period. I had two students who had been absent on the day of the test, and four students who wanted a retake. 

Then, at the end of the period, a boy approached. He wanted to know what he could do to raise his grade. He had a C. His mom had threatened him with consequences if he didn't get his grade up to an A.

(One of the consequences was giving away his dog to his aunt. Which seems a bit harsh.)

His grades weren't bad. He had a few assignments where he didn't get full points. He had gotten a C on the test. (The test was 40% of their grade. This will dilute a bit once they've had more tests.) 

I guess I'm a soft touch. I said he could retake the test even though he hadn't done the review. 

And? He scored two points lower than his initial attempt. 

Ah well. He tried. (And he kept the higher score, so he didn't lose anything.) 

Of the retesters, about half gained a point or two. The other half lost a point or two. 

Urgency

These middle schoolers...

There's this boy who asked to go by K3 in class (so since that's anonymous enough, I'll use it here). He has his moments of being a reasonable student and then he has other moments of play. So, typical seventh grader. 

I've had issues with getting the kiddos to turn in their work. I tell them when it's due. I call for it. But many don't have it done even though they had time in class to complete it (or I let them finish what they didn't finish in class for homework). 

But, the general rule is they can turn in late work, and I'm okay with this as I'd rather they turn it in and get credit rather than taking the F. (I want them to succeed.) 

So, last week K3 gave me a stack of four or five assignments that he was missing. Okay, fine. But then he follows it up with:

"You need to grade these quickly. My dad won't let me play sports until I get my grades up."

Um...

Wisely, I did not reply. He handed them to me at the end of class, as he was leaving. And I chose not to give him a piece of my mind.

Because, really? Him not turning his work in a timely manner makes it my responsibility to input those grades immediately? 

*taps sign*

I knew I'd need this image someday.

Over the weekend, I took home some grading. I got it input into the gradebook and everything. (It felt great to be caught up Monday morning.) First thing Monday morning I found an email from Nadia. 

Nadia stated that she was missing an assignment in the gradebook that she had turned in. 

I don't normally lose student work. (I don't even lose pens or socks. It's freakish, really.) But, I took a quick look just to make sure I hadn't overlooked it. Nope. But, I did have one paper missing a name.

I emailed this back to Nadia. The next time she was in class, she checked the paper. Yup, it was hers. She put her name on it and gave it back to me.

I'm lucky in that I have a last period conference period. When my last class leaves, I have a full period of time to close out the day and get prepped for the next one. I have made it my habit to go through the stack of late turned in work right after I've noted any things I need to note from the day (keeping track of who was tardy and who had a cell phone, that sort of thing). 

I had just gotten through the stack of late work, and I was checking email before moving on to the next thing that needed my attention. Nadia had sent me an email. I noted the time of the email. 3:01 PM. I looked at the clock. It was 3:04 PM. 

Nadia reminded me that she had resubmitted her assignment and it needed to be entered into the gradebook. 

Ahem.

I was sorely tempted to go into the gradebook and erase the score. But I am an adult. I resisted.

I went back to the email as I was going to add it to this post. Reading it now, it doesn't sound as bad as it sounded when I read it the first time. The first time, I was a bit put out. Because, I had just entered her grade into the gradebook. Right when she sent the email. 

I mean, I get where the kiddos are coming from. And I'm keeping up with the grading. Really. I am. 

But when they insist I take care of their stuff immediately? That they got to me late?

*shakes head* Middle schoolers...

In Need of Transportation

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 😉

A certain hurricane is on my mind with this week's question.

What if your neighborhood was required to evacuate due to an incoming hurricane (or similar event), but you had no way to get out of town? (So, your car is broken and/or you don't have the funds to pay for a bus or train to get out of town.)