Bouncing Off Walls, Leaping Over Tables

Friday. High school art. First period. 

The students were supposed to be painting a monochromatic still life in their sketch books. Their Google Classrooms contained examples. The watercolors were on their tables. Easy, right? 

Rowdy went over to the drawers. He loudly complained. "He hates us. He likes period two more. He gave them larger sketchbooks." 

I wondered why Rowdy was looking through period two's drawer, but I answered the immediate question. Period two was year two of the art class. They were year one. More advanced students get improved tools. 

Rowdy then answered my first question. He was looking for his sketchbook. It was not in period one's drawer. Therefore, someone had stolen it. 

Rowdy's behavior in a high school class alerted me to the fact he had to be a freshman. Ninth graders are still middle schoolers, as far as I'm concerned. And Rowdy was proving that belief to me. 

He walked the room, disturbing other students and not settling. But then he did settle. And he got to work. 

A bit later I checked on him. He found his sketchbook? 

No, he took Katie's sketchbook and was doing his work in that. Why? Because Katie had stolen his sketchbook. 

Deep sigh. 

After some more back and forth, Rowdy found his sketchbook in his backpack. The student seated next to him explained that in the last class he had put it in there when he brought Rowdy's backpack to him. Rowdy clearly never checked in his own backpack. 

I thought the issues with Rowdy were now at an end. Oh, no. 

It was the end of the period. I had called for clean up. Rowdy? He cleared out the table he was at, moved the chairs to the side, ran at the table, planted his hands on it, and then vaulted over it like a gymnast. (More of a beginner just getting over the pommel horse, not a professional doing flips and things.) 

What the...? 

Take a look at the tables in the picture at the top. Those tables are high up. Standing level. The chairs are bar height. And Rowdy leapt over them? 

And then he was preparing to do it again!?!

Absolutely not. I made that one clear. 

Thankfully, Rowdy backed down. And then the bell rang, and they were all out. 

Whew. He was a lot. 

The Demon Portal

Thursday. Intro to film and video production for middle school, fifth period. 

The kiddos were to work on their music video. I was not given much in the way of instructions, but they had a whole list of things to do in their Google Classroom. But middle schoolers. (Read: they do not pay attention to directions.) 

Many of them didn't do much of anything in class. Some checked out a camera and went to film. Some sat on their computers and pulled up the software they needed per the instructions. But the majority were doing as little as possible. 

But they were keeping it down to a dull roar, so it was fine. 

Until... 

A group of them, huddled in a cluster, suddenly all jumped up and ran away. Whoosh. What the...? 

One kiddo came over to me. "A demon just emerged from a portal under the desks." 

A demon, eh? He insisted it was a demon. 

Another student cleared up the mystery. Someone farted. 

Yeah, that tracks. 

(If you've never been around a group of middle schoolers, then you would not know that someone always farts. And every other kiddo in the vicinity acts as if they've been poisoned, and the only way to save themselves is to run away very quickly.)

Who farted? The kiddo who claimed it was a demon. 

That's a way better excuse than what I usually get.

Not Her Seat

Tuesday. Eighth grade U.S. history, seventh period. 

I've been spending a lot of time in eighth grade classes lately. And I spent a bunch of time in seventh grade classes last year. So, most of the kiddos in this class were familiar to me. But I don't necessarily retain everyone's name. 

The name thing is something I absolutely need to work on. (I mean, now I'll probably retain Jovi's name as I had him in class three times over the last two weeks. He's the one who's killing me off in his English story.) With a seating chart, I'm usually pretty good about knowing which name goes with which student, but not always. 

I was warned that Ms. K's seventh period might be a challenge. In the lesson plan, she said that Ms. N would pop by to make sure the kiddos behaved. (The kiddos are scared of Ms. N. She cowed them sufficiently at the beginning of the period.) I was warned to make sure they remained in their assigned seats. 

Of course, immediately I was asked if some of them could sit by their friends. I said no. But... but... What about her? 

I looked at the seating chart. I looked at the girl. "That's Lucy, right?"

They all started calling her Lucy. And they did it in such a way as I knew it wasn't Lucy. 

But, the online attendance has pictures. 

"Lucy" was the wrong color. 

It only took me a moment to locate the actual Lucy, and she was in Selah's seat. 

(I figured out later it was Lucy who took Selah's seat, and Selah just took the open seat. Lucy had claimed the seat next to her friend. After I had specifically said assigned seats.) 

I growled at them. They switched back to where they should have been sitting. The mob seemed to be placated. 

Lucy spent the rest of the period turned around, trying to talk to her friend. (In the top photo you can see how the tables were situated. It was more awkward than having the two girls next to each other, but it wasn't undoable.) 

And the rest of the class? The assignment (on the Revolutionary War), which they probably could have completed during the class period, was largely untouched by the majority of the class. (I took down names of the students who made satisfactory progress. There were, like, five. In a class of 35.)

They're not just scared of Ms. N. They're scared of Ms. K. I don't think they had a very good time upon her return to class.

Unexpected Boons

Whew. That went way better than I was expecting.

We're not out of the woods yet. The regime will double down and create as much chaos as they can. But there is reason to celebrate. 

My soon-to-be-ex-congressman was reelected (unsurprisingly). He's been the ranking Dem on the Oversight Committee. With the change in Congressional control, he becomes chairman. 

Upon getting the news that he was reelected (which happened after we knew control of Congress had shifted), he issued a two word statement directed at the regime: "Lawyer up". 

He's been on the news shows and on social media. He has a plan: 

(Note: I lost him as my rep in the redistricting that California did. Ah well.)

And with all the states that went blue in their state legislatures and governor's mansions, we have an amazing opportunity. The National Popular Vote Interstate Compact is in play. 

(This is not the first time I've mentioned this on the blog.) 

Currently, the compact has 222 electoral votes. If Wisconsin, Michigan, Pennsylvania, Arizona, and Nevada also join, that'll put the compact over the top with 283 electoral votes. Can you imagine? 

I'm giddy. But it only works if those states sign on. It'll have to pass their state houses and senates. Then it'll have to be signed into law by their governors. 

Are any of you in those states? Could you do us all a solid and call your state reps to urge them to get this done? Do you know anyone in those states that could call their state reps? 

By now, they should have heard some of the rumblings about it, but if enough constituents pushed, maybe, just maybe they might get it done. 

The New Shiny

I have a reluctant sweater to crochet. I really should be getting back to it. But there's a bit I'm not sure what to do with, and so I'm doing what I always do when confronted with a design challenge. I put it away and work on other things. 

Knitty is an online magazine, published quarterly, that features knitting patterns. I look through each new issue, and sometimes I see something I like. Like this week... 

The pattern: Subjunction. I mean, I don't really want the finished object. The thing that struck me about the pattern was that it called for a certain kind of yarn, the kind of yarn that my brother's been gifting me for birthdays and Christmases. 

It only requires two skeins. I have two skeins of yarn. 

The problem with this yarn? From the pattern, "I recommend a solid, nearly-solid or lightly-speckled yarn. The ribbing would cause a strongly variegated yarn to look muddled." Yeah, that's a strongly variegated yarn. 

So, the Tardis blue? But I have four skeins of that. That's probably enough for a bigger project. Not that I have a bigger project in mind, but if I blow two skeins on this, then if that bigger project comes along... 

I mean, I really should just get back to the reluctant sweater. But now I'm thinking about all these yarns that are just sitting in my stash. Sigh. 

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.