Preventative In-House

Every teacher has that one terrible class. Ms. M had two. One of them was (not a surprise) sixth period.

(The other was third period. Eighth graders. One day two boys were throwing parts of glue sticks. Enough said.) 

The first day I had the seventh graders in sixth period, things went pretty smoothly. It was a small class (fifteen students), and while they were definitely struggling with the material, they weren't fighting me on paying attention or goofing off.

Alas, as I discovered the next time I had sixth period, two students had been absent. Myron and Aiden. And their absence made all the difference.

Neither boy would remain in his seat for more than a couple minutes at a time (while I was explaining how to find the area of a circle). It was like playing Whac-a-Mole. Just when I got one settled, the other would pop up.

(Why were they absent the previous day? They had been sent to in-house suspension "for no reason". While I don't know specifically what caused them to be sent there, based on what I dealt with, the consequence was warranted.) 

Wednesday, as I was preparing for the day, I perused the attendance. (I don't remember what made me look ahead.) And I saw Myron was already marked absent. The code showed that he would be at in-house suspension.

And I danced a little jig. 

While I still had Aiden in class, he was considerably less of an issue without Myron to bounce off of. 

One student can make a huge difference. 

(I did not have access to who had given Myron the consequence or for what. It's too bad, as I would have sent them a thank you.)

Addendum

Friday. Art. 

It was one of those boring days (so boring I brought along a project to work on) where the students do what they're supposed to do. I take roll, verify they're on task, and then I try to stay awake. 

Sixth period. Class went much like the rest of the day. 

I've started a new note system this school year. I created a Google doc where I can rate each class, list names for out of class, and leave a brief remark about anything needed. I can then email this to the teacher at the end of the day. 

So, on this day, I had completed my note, attached it to the email, and sent it off about ten minutes before the end of the period. 

The class had had an assignment in Google Classroom. (It was on line which is an element of art.) They had returned the Chromebooks to the Chromecart, and I was making sure they were all plugged in for the weekend (read: plugging them all in). That's when I heard the door. 

I turned, and sure enough, a couple students had slipped out of the classroom minutes before the end of the period. Grrrr. 

Such an event belongs in the note, but the note had been sent. 

Well, I guess the note needed an addendum. 

Rather than get a computer out or try to send it on my phone (I don't know the teacher's emails, but they pop up when I compose the email on computer; on my phone, their emails don't pop up), I grabbed a sheet of paper and wrote that out. 

I hate it when students slip out like that. (If a student must leave early, all they have to do is ask. If it's a reasonable request, I generally allow it.) It's cheating. And the teacher is definitely going to hear about it.

The Giggles

A teacher at one of the high schools I sub at wrote a book about parents and teens and effective communication. She's looking for backers on Indiegogo. You can read (and watch her talk about the book on video) here.

Spring in eighth grade English means it's time for them to read The Diary of Anne Frank. Because eighth grade, we read the play version. 

Reading plays in class can be fun. Parts are assigned. If you have the right mix of kiddos, they can get into it. Some do a voice. Some get engaged in their roles.

Alas, with the hybrid thing, things are different.

Getting kiddos at home to turn on their microphones and respond is hard. Those that do often have background noise: dogs barking, babies crying, siblings making noise, etc. But since we have kiddos in class, we have willing volunteers to read. 

Okay, maybe "willing" is stretching it a bit. It's more like I told them they were reading, and they didn't contradict me. And with few kiddos in class, everyone in class got a speaking part, so it wasn't like any one of them were getting singled out. They all had to, ahem, suffer the same fate. 

Sixth period. I had four students in class.

Scene 1, Act 2 has eight speaking parts. I divvied up the parts so each boy got two roles. And away we went.

Only... Adam had the giggles. 

When he wasn't speaking (he was playing Anne and Miep), it was fine. The kiddos at home didn't hear him as he kept his microphone muted. But when it was his turn to read...

He had to try to gather himself together. Then he'd get a sentence or two out only to burst into laughter again. Luckily, he didn't have too much to do in the scene.

Why was he laughing? I have no idea. He blamed another boy's picture in the meet. (With cameras off, a picture holds their place on screen. Very few students use their actual pictures, so it was some odd image.) But I doubt that was what caused the giggle fit. 

Somehow, we made it through the scene.

With the at home and in class groups thing being awkward, I took some time to search, and I found an audio version of the play. 

The one day a week we're all distance (kind of a long story as to how the whole thing works), I teased the recording. I asked the class how they enjoyed reading in class. As expected, the in-class kiddos weren't so enthused about having to read. (The at-home kiddos rather enjoyed it, though.)

When I told them I had found a recording, the in-class students cheered. (Yay! in the chat counts as cheering.) But not Adam. Adam said he rather enjoyed reading in class. 

But the rest of sixth period were happy. It seems that they didn't get a whole lot out of our reading of that scene as the kiddos in the classroom did.

Not surprising, really. I could probably say the same about most things school-related.

You Again

The sixth period on this long term eighth grade English class has two in-person students. (Well, two in-person students in each cohort, but the whole cohort thing is another post.) Brice and Adam.

On Tuesday, Brice and Adam showed up together. As they likely did the week before. And they'll likely continue to do so. 

They explained. The two of them have the exact same schedule. Well, except for their math class. They each have a different math class. 

But the rest of their school day, they are together. 

Two eighth grade boys who have the whole day together? That is way too much time to plan mischief. 

(At least they're in the advanced class. That means they're less likely to be difficult in class.) 

The thing they were laughing about on this day, however, had to do with them meeting up with each other that morning at the discipline office. The discipline office is where the kiddos check out their computers. And both of them managed to break theirs that Tuesday. 

Brice's water bottle leaked, and he had doused his computer. He flooded his entire backpack. 

Adam... Well, Adam managed to smash his. How? Well, Brice told the story. Adam didn't offer details. So, I suspect Adam was at least partially at fault. 

Those two can't escape each other, it seems. I imagine this will be a great story for them in ten or fifteen years.

Booted

Period six was the biggest period of the day, thirty plus students. Because we are on a modified schedule for distance learning, I only had the class twice in four days. 

On Wednesday, I had gotten them started on the assignment. I went to input the attendance when, poof. Suddenly I was kicked out of the meet. 

The internet was still working, so I just rejoined the meet. And it was all fine.

The exact same thing happened on Friday. 

I think since more of them had their cameras on, it was taking up more bandwidth? Perhaps. And it only occurred while I was accessing two things online by taking attendance. 

This is why when students drop out of the meet, I'm not concerned. Especially when they rejoin a minute or two later. Because it has happened to me. 

Familiar Faces

Last Friday, I covered an eleventh grade English class. They had a quiz. 

Substitute teaching during a pandemic is a strange mix of the familiar and our new reality. I know all the staff in the main office. I haven't seen them since everything shut down, but it was mostly the same, except we're only allowed to enter and exit through one door, and there are Plexiglas partitions up to shield the receptionist. 

There were administrator changes because new school year. I checked in, and then I had to check in with a new assistant principal because she had to give me access to the Google Classroom classes I would need for the day. 

Oh, and the masks. We're all wearing them, but oddly, when we interact, we make no mention of them. 

Once I had checked in, I headed for the classroom. The campus feels like a ghost town. There are people there, but not many, and I can feel the emptiness. Various reminders that we went home on March 13th and didn't return pop up. The ASB calendar of events wall outside still says March. And the classroom I was in still had the minimum day schedule posted. 

The teacher I was subbing for had not returned, although he was due to work the following week. That is why I was there. The sub who'd been covering his class was taking over another long term position, so they needed someone to fill the day. 

At the appointed time, the students logged in. A couple arrived at first, and then the whole rest of them started populating the screen. Only nine were visible, but the list of the 30-odd students was on the side. They immediately muted their microphones. Some turned off their cameras, but a few kept them on. 

(One girl in fourth period kept her camera on the whole time, but I don't think she realized it. She was clearly having a conversation with someone, and they were having a grand old time. Some dancing was involved.) 

As they had a quiz, all I had to do was announce it, and they got to work. And I watched a mostly blank screen. (They are required to have a certain number of minutes "in class", so they had to remain in class even once they'd finished the quiz.)

I had a chance to talk to the previous sub between classes. (There's a ten minute pause between each period.) He said the classes were fine, although sixth period could be weird. 

Sixth period weird? Imagine that. *end sarcasm*

So, sixth period started. And the names popped up on the screen. Names I recognized. Now, I recognized most of the names in the first two periods (they're only doing three periods a day), but sixth period names were different. I mean, not most of them. But about six or seven of them I remembered from previous interactions, and not in a good way. 

And all in the same class? Yikes. 

But, they're juniors now. As middle schoolers, they fought me. Now, they make a joke out of things. This is an improvement. We won't have the battles. But getting through material can easily go sideways.

Peep Show

It was Monday of the last week of school. The eighth graders were on a celebratory field trip to Knott's Berry Farm. The teacher I was covering was one of the chaperones, and I was left with all of his seventh graders.

Mr. S had one period of middle school leadership, one period of middle school theater, and two periods of English Language Development (read: English learners). As his leadership and theater classes needed a different sort of room, he traveled to a more academic classroom for the ELD classes.

The room he used for his ELD classes housed health classes the rest of the day.

It's the end of the semester, so the health classes are currently studying sexually transmitted diseases, something first period gleefully informed me of. (I knew this already, so I shrugged it off.)

The classes' assignment was an essay about what goals they had for their summer vacation. And they were less than pleased to be writing.

And sixth period...

They were terrible in the usual sort of way. I was not shocked. So, I tried to settle them as I went into explaining what they were doing for the period.

"He lets me pull up the screen."

All classrooms have projectors now, and most of the time the screen is down. I didn't need the board underneath, but I figured what was the harm in letting the boy raise the screen?

As soon as the screen went up, the whole class erupted in hoots and hollers.

I looked back at the board...

Posted to the white board was a poster of the female reproductive system.

I pulled the screen back down.

I should have known.

The boys (there were two girls in the class of about twenty) didn't settle at all that period. I have a feeling that's their normal behavior. At least that class is no more. (School let out on the 6th. It is officially summer vacation.)

Fairly Warned

I've been struggling with this post for days. It still might not make much sense...

It was Thursday. I was covering the Mandarin class. No, not that one. Different school. Apparently Mandarin is a thing now. At least for this school district.

That morning, I woke with a sore throat that went into full blown head cold for the holiday weekend. (If you noticed that I wasn't around the blogs, that was why.)

It turned out to be not a bad day. Which is a good thing when one is starting to feel miserable. However, I was warned about sixth period. They were the "interesting" group.

When the teacher told me this (Ms. L was there that morning as she was chaperoning a field trip to a local temple), I took a look at the seating chart (with pictures!), and I did recognize the students she warned me about.

Jake was one. I did get to chide him on pretending to be Steven. When the other students overheard this, I informed them that Jake preferred to be called Steven. And I told Ms. L about this later. I so hope they tease him about it for the rest of the school year--from that day, two weeks. 

Ms. L explained that she had placed one girl, Monica, as a sort of buffer between the boys. If the boys got too bad, I was to let Monica move away.

Class started, and Ryder shooed Monica out of her seat and took it. Monica was a willing participant in this, so much so that when I informed them that I had an accurate seating chart, they did not move.

Okay then. Just another addition to the note.

Towards the end of the period, a few of the students who had gone on the field trip returned. This is pretty standard.

But it freaked the other kiddos out. "Ms. L is back?!?"

Suddenly, Monica and Ryder knew exactly where their seats were, and they were in them.

Ms. L did not return. After the class was dismissed for the day, I did manage to locate Ms. L and let her know how the day went. She found the seat swap interesting.

Alas, poor Monica was in for it. (Although, one of the boys I was warned about did not behave badly, so he got a pleasant surprise the next day.)

Too Happy

They were way too happy to see me. And that really makes me nervous.

Friday. Sixth period. US history. This was the class that I had before spring break. 

One of the students was saying how she had wished for a sub, and not just any sub but me in particular. But, she knew that Mr. B was on campus. And I was elsewhere. 

But, the teacher I was covering had sixth period prep. And, as I may have mentioned before, this year it's been more likely than not that I pick up an extra period (and an extra period's pay) rather than getting the time off. 

I have no idea why, but Mr. B had to leave early. So, guess who was asked to cover it?

When students are that happy to see me, I wonder what it was that I let them get away with. Because why would students like a sub? There's something wrong with this picture.

However, this was the good class. They were generally silent. Of the whole day, they were the best behaved group. So, again, whatever did I let them get away with?

I gave them the assignment. And then I held my breath. Were they going to take a "free" day?

Nope, they worked silently again. For the whole period. (And we were on block schedule for state testing, so the period was two hours long.)

I guess it will remain a mystery, as I didn't see them doing anything they shouldn't've. 

Wiped

It was the Friday before spring break (two weeks ago). And it was a minimum day.

Weirdly, the best class of the day was sixth period. Usually, I have to fight with sixth period. They're done with the day, and they can't be bothered to work. But not this group.

I had had them for a week. It was one of those days (multiplied by five) where my biggest issue was finding a way to stay awake. Because there's something pretty boring about watching classes do their assignments.

By sixth period, I had finished reading blogs, reading a magazine, writing blog posts, and taking care of all my usual keep-Liz-awake activities I bring along just in case I have an easy day like this.

I was wiped.

When they arrived on Friday, I held up the handout. I asked each row if they needed it. No one did.

This did not surprise me, however. Earlier in the week, the students had come up to get the next assignment and the next. I informed them that they were getting ahead. But I have no issue with them getting ahead, especially if the teacher has left those assignments for them.

But by Friday, I let them know how far their teacher had expected them to be. And most of them were well beyond it.

So, there was a whole lot of not-work going on that day. I was fine with this.

First, they did this nothing quietly. Second, they had been working all week. And third, it was the last hour before they were technically on spring break.

I bet they were a bit wiped, too.

If you had a computer (or your smartphone) and less than an hour to kill, what would you find yourself doing? Did you do anything fun for spring break this year? 

Today's A to Z Challenge post brought to you by the letter...

Joint Confusion

Seventh grade math. Sixth period. They did not want to come into the room. Because it smelled.

Middle school classrooms generally have an awful odor. I expect mustiness or body odor or someone passing gas. But that's not what caused the stink.

The room smelled like marijuana.

(I only recently learned what marijuana smells like. Call me naive. This sort of thing was not in my experience. But someone pointed it out--the upstairs neighbors partake--and now I realize it wasn't always a skunk in the neighborhood.)

I assumed the smell came from outside, but the neighboring classrooms weren't reeking. I got a whiff of it before fifth period started. Someone was smoking outside at lunch?

Fifth period had been difficult. I spent most of the period circulating the room. Keeping the kiddos on task didn't happen. I worked on keeping them seated.

You'd think I would have noticed someone smoking in class.

Considering the smell in sixth period, apparently not.

It was so bad, an assistant principal stopped by and walked the room.

(So, if my assignments suddenly dry up, we'll all know why.)

I swear, it wasn't me. And I have no idea how a kiddo could have hid that so well. Especially one who thinks marijuana in class is a good idea.

Is marijuana legal in your state/area? What crazy stuff did you sneak in school? 

Today's A to Z Challenge post brought to you by the letter...

Irritable

Some days...

It was Friday, and my day up until that point had been fairly uneventful. I was asked to cover an extra period (naturally) for sixth period, and it was next door. I had a chance to talk to the teacher before she left.

Ms. M apologized for the class. There were only seventeen of them, but they had way more energy than anyone should have at the end of the day, she said.

They weren't out of the ordinary for a middle school class. They wouldn't settle to let me give instructions. There was the boy who thought he didn't have to sit in his assigned seat. Well, three boys. I had to stop the video four or five times because they were talking. And getting anyone to read the article (this was after the video)... They'd read when I insisted, but it took them forever to comply.

After taking way too long to settle them (again) for the next reader to go, I had just had it. They could answer the questions and finish the reading on their own.

They did, but they did it way too quickly.

Sigh.

Some days, I just don't have the energy for them. Stuff that should roll off my back irritates me no end. This day, I was just irritable.

They can't all be good days, I guess.

What irritates you no end? Do you have any energy at the end of the day?

Today's A to Z Challenge post brought to you by the letter...

Mystery Science Theater 3000, Eighth Grade Edition

Eighth grade English. Friday. The teacher left them a video.

It was the classic Twilight Zone. We had time to watch two episodes. "The Fugitive" and "Little Girl Lost". (If you want to refresh your memory, they're available on Netflix, Amazon, Hulu, and CBS.com.)

It had been a difficult day. One period would not stop talking. Another whined about having to watch something in black and white. The advanced group was even a challenge to get settled.

I had been warned about sixth period. I braced for the worst. 

After booting a kid for defiantly eating in class (his parting shot: "fatty Patty"), the rest of the group sort of almost settled. And then I started the show. 

Did they sit back and enjoy the show? Of course not. The kiddos heckled the screen. 

They compared the old man in the first episode to R. Kelly. They made fun of the crazy contraption that healed the little girl. 

Then there were all sorts of suggestions for the second episode. I had to assure them that the man was the girl's father. (They were dubious on this point.) They urged the father to look in the closet for the little girl. They argued the pocket universe looked dumb. There were references to Poltergeist. 

It was like being in an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000, but rather than a human and two robots, the theater was filled with loud, obnoxious eighth graders. 

I begrudgingly admit much of their comments were on point. Alas, the way they commented...

Milking the Injury

Middle school special ed U.S. history. The classes had been pretty good until 6th period. But, 6th period...

All boys. They came in loud. And I had to scold them to get settled at the bell.

Rico immediately called me over. He had to go to the health office. He hurt his hand.

The third and fourth knuckles on his right hand were purple with a bruise. It looked like he had hit something, hard.

Rico was goofing off. Loud. Not getting settled. So, I didn't really want to let him go. Because, he was clearly looking for an excuse not to work. But, those knuckles looked painful, and I'm not in the habit of denying students passes to the health office when they ask.

He wasn't gone long. He got some ice and returned. And now, it was all about how he couldn't do the assignment due to his hand.

The assignment was a timeline. They had been given a list of events during the Lewis & Clark expedition. They were to transfer those events to a preprinted timeline. Every other class finished by half way through the period.

But Rico "couldn't write". It "hurt too much". And I was reminded of the saying:

“If you really want to do something, you'll find a way. If you don't, you'll find an excuse.”

Rico was milking this excuse for all it was worth and then some.

And he was joined by two other boys who somehow couldn't get this timeline finished by the end of the period. Sigh. Middle school. Boys.

Quite the Handful

When I called ahead for subbing assignments, I was offered this middle school special ed math class for two days. After the time I had with sixth period, you'd probably think I'd turn it down. (There were other teachers out, so I did have options.)

But the instructional aide, Ms. S, said the rest of the day wasn't so bad, and I knew Ms. S was there the whole day. How bad could it be?

Ms. S and I arrived at the same time on Thursday morning. She clued me in to how things needed to proceed. She'd run things. She knew the kiddos. She knew the routine. I'd just have to follow her lead.

But... Oh, by the way... Ms. S had to leave early that day. You know, right before sixth period.

First through fourth periods went pretty well. They were working on solving inequalities and then graphing those answers. We had to take it slow as they were having difficulty. But that was to be expected. That's how things go in a special ed class.

I got to watch what Ms. S did all day. My job was to replicate that for sixth period. I've done that sort of thing before.

Sixth period arrived. And they were pretty much as I remembered them. (Samuel still won't sit. Ashley still won't focus. Edward had been moved, so he and Ashley didn't have issues.)

I attempted to get through the lesson. And I kind of did. It took longer than the other periods. There were all sorts of distractions (*ahem* Samuel. Ashley. *ahem*). But for the most part they let me teach. (Classes don't always. I appreciate it when I am allowed to get them through the lesson.)

So, a win. Sort of.

I was told they were the brightest group of the day. The were also the largest. Put them in sixth period, and that's why they were the most difficult.

Do you remember what classes you had at the end of the day? Were you burned out by then, or did you have a class in play mode?

Today's A to Z Challenge post brought to you by the letter...

A Wasted Day

Eighth grade math. I covered the class for two days.

On day one, they were finishing up a lab. They had measured their heights and their armspans the previous day, and they were comparing the two. It was the kind of assignment that they should have easily finished.

But, they were on sub behavior.

It took them the whole period to graph all of their data. (That was roughly 30 points per class, but still, a whole hour?)

As Mr. J, their teacher, had been at a training, he stopped by at the end of the day to see how things went. When he learned that they hadn't finished what they needed to finish, he told me to go ahead and finish it up the next day.

And we did. One class even got some free time. Another got finished with only about five minutes left in class, so no free time. But they finished, so all was good.

Then sixth period arrived.

The prior day they had been difficult. But on this day...

I was authorized to do the assignment with them. That means, if they were following along, they got a complete assignment without having to do too much thinking. (Oh sure, I called on students to provide answers, but I made sure what they wrote down were the correct answers.)

But sixth period wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise.

I stood up in front of them. I got their attention. Then I turned to go over the first question, and they started talking.

I stopped. Waited. Asked for attention. Then I tried again.

They started talking again. So, around we went...

After about forty minutes of not being able to get to the answer to the first question because they wouldn't let me do it, I gave up. There are only so many ways one can ask for a class to stop talking and pay attention so we can do the work.

(The other classes that day managed to let me teach. So, it wasn't beyond the capability of an eighth grader.)

I had them pull out a sheet of paper and write a letter to their teacher explaining why they got no work done that day. I rather doubt they took any responsibility for their actions, but I was done at that point.

This is why most teachers give their classes worksheets on sub days. Although, not all classes behave this way. It's just so frustrating when they do.

TGIF?

Friday. Sixth period. On a day that had been drizzly and dreary. For a middle school special ed math class.

They were... interesting...

Samuel decided he wasn't going to do a thing I said. I asked him to complete the practice problem. He refused. I asked him to get out a pencil, he wouldn't move.

He took offense when I stared at him. I told him I'd stop if he started working. Ultimately, I got distracted by another student.

Because it wasn't just Samuel. Ashley didn't like sitting in the back. And Edward was looking at her. So, Ashley was moved. And Edward was talked to for twisting around in his seat. But Ashley was angry at Edward for calling her name, only it wasn't Edward. Nope. It was Samuel.

Did I mention these kiddos had a quiz?

Luckily, the instructional aide was there. She did all the work. I can't imagine how bad things would have been without her being there.

Some hours seem longer.

Dragging his Feet

Seventh grade math. Their assignment was a review packet for an upcoming test. And because they were seventh graders, I spent most of my time trying to keep them settled.

In a class of seventh grade crazy, Jairo stood out. Literally. He refused to sit for much of the period.

So, when with 15 minutes left of class Jairo had packed his stuff up and was ready to go, I noticed.

I informed him that he still had time to get work done. It wasn't clean up time. And he'd better get his work back out and do... something...

He ignored me. He told me he was going to do it for homework.

(At this point, I normally would have made the assignment due right then, but it was a test review. Plus, there were enough students on task, and it wouldn't have been fair to them when Jairo was the only one being difficult about doing the assignment in class.)

Luckily, this was the last class of the day. If he wasn't going to work for the last 10 minutes of class, I'd have him stay 10 minutes after school.

Jairo unzipped his backpack. I prompted him to keep going. He thunked his binder onto the desk. Right direction, but not complete. He opened his binder.

Yes, I had to prompt him at each step. Then the assignment came out, but he said he didn't have a pencil.

There was no work on the paper, but his name was at the top, and there were various doodles in spots. Clearly he had had a pencil. He began a convoluted story of how he had borrowed a pencil from one student for one thing and another for...

Okay. Fine. He would have to remain in class until he finished one problem.

Immediately, Jairo opened the front pouch of his backpack, produced a purple mechanical pencil, and filled in an answer on his page. (A correct answer.)

It's amazing how he put so much effort into resisting doing anything constructive. If he were to apply that single mindedness to work for him...

Too bad I didn't ask Jairo for five problems.

If something seems different today, it is. Monday is usually the day I post my latest knitting or crochet project (although lately I've just been posting the new pictures I've been taking of older projects), and my subbing stories I post later in the week. However, as of "press time", I had no new projects or pictures ready to go for the blog, so rather than going dark like I did last Monday (due to the same issue), I'm rearranging my schedule for this week. I should have some pretty pictures for Wednesday 🤞.

Kudos Deserved

When I'm asked to cover an extra period, there are certain things I expect. We'll have to wait around for security to let us in. The class will be loud and all over the place while I locate the lesson plans. And somehow I'll have to get the students to settle while I'm getting situated for the period. (This usually involves the raising of my voice.)

I went to the extra 6th period on this Monday with realistic expectations. (This was the same day as the ELD class from yesterday's post.) However, I was thrilled when security arrived at the classroom just when I did.

Security let us in the room, and the first thing I noticed was how warm it was. (The class had been period subbed all day, so I assume none of the other subs had bothered with the thermostat.) Before looking for lesson plans and dealing with the loud, I went to turn on the air conditioning. Then I turned back to the class...

Everyone in the class was seated. And silent. Waiting...

Um... This was weird. These were middle schoolers. 7th graders. Silently waiting. Right. This couldn't last.

I located the lesson plans. (The sub from the prior period had hidden them away. Grrr.) Found the thing they were supposed to do...

"But we're ELD..." one kiddo protested.

Yup, I knew that. I was reading the period 6 lesson plans, which I pointed out. And I started to pass out their work. (Got a volunteer, so I let him pass out papers.) And I explained what they were doing.

And they did it. Silently. For the whole period.

I had my fingers crossed. I knocked on wood. I was doing everything not to jinx the luck. Because, seriously? A middle school class that I was only in for one period and that period was 6th period behaving well? This just doesn't happen.

The note I left was glowing. They deserved it.

These were alien replicants, right? Or Stepford children? What do you think caused this anomaly?

Today's A to Z Challenge post brought to you by the letter...

Knitting in Class

11th grade English. 6th period. I'd been warned that they might be difficult...

(6th periods are strange classes. They're either the worst period of the day or they're odd. There's something about having been in school all day that makes them a bit punchy. And, all the athletes have their sport's class then. So, for some reason, that's when most of them let their freak flag fly.)

The assignment was to finish reading "Everyday Use" by Alice Walker. (The link goes to the actual story online. Worth a read if you haven't read it before.

Now, I say they were to finish reading it, but when I questioned them on what happened the prior day (with a different sub), no one could tell me what had happened. And since the next day they had a quiz over this story (and several others), I figured we'd better go back and understand the thing.

But, 6th period. Having them read aloud (which presumably they did do already)...

I made the executive decision to read the part of the story to them that they were supposed to have already read.

They were actually happy with this idea. And let me read without talking over me. Score!

I noticed out of the corner of my eye that one girl pulled out her knitting. As someone who knits while watching TV, I had no issue with this. I figured she could pay attention just as well.

I finished the page or so they should have read. Then we went on, and I called on readers. (I had index cards, so I could randomly select.)

A couple students heckled the girl. Knitting in class? She wasn't paying attention...

So, naturally, hers was the second card I picked. And you know what? She found her place and read better than some who were supposedly following along. (Well, there were several heads down on desks, so not really following along.)

Her turn over, she went back to her knitting. (She ended up ripping it all out. She didn't like the feel of the yarn.)

I need more knitters in class. Although, most of the time they have actual work to do, so they can't really knit...