Video Proof

Friday. Second period accelerated math, seventh grade. 

Accelerated math means the students are learning seventh and eighth grade math at the same time. (They'll take freshman math as eighth graders.) 

The topic on Friday was what I spent two separate days covering with the eighth grade classes: the volume of a cylinder and the volume of a cone. 

There is a way to derive the formula (something we did in calculus), but for middle schoolers, we do an explanation as to why it is correct, and then we have them use it. 

For the eighth graders, my explanation of "it takes three cones to fill a cylinder" was good enough. Alas, the seventh graders did not believe me.

However, I knew that I could find a video that showed that very thing. (There is so much good math material on YouTube.) So, if they needed proof, I'd show them proof. 

They weren't entirely convinced. ("There's still water in the cone.") I explained that getting a perfect pour wasn't necessarily going to happen, human error and all. They grumbled, but they accepted that explanation.

Of course, Friday was one of those days where keeping their focus wasn't really happening. But I have had worse, so it wasn't too terrible.

And now I'm done with that class and on to a new long term that started Monday. I'll begin talking about that next week.

Time to Find Out

Thursday. Eighth grade math, third period. They had a test.

Since the first day I was in this class, I told them when the test was. For every example, I reiterated what they would need to include in their answers on the test. I went over examples, gave them time to try problems on their own, and I answered all their questions about how to do the problems. 

(Their test was how to find the volume of a cylinder, a cone, and a sphere. The formulas were included on the test, which I also repeated daily.) 

But eighth graders. 

There were three boys in the middle of the room who spent more time goofing off and talking to each other than paying me any mind. 

"Colton! Adonis! Russell! Do you know how to do this?"

They assured me that they were on it. It was easy. They were caught up on the homework.

So, Thursday rolls around, and I started off with a warm up. They had four problems that looked exactly like the questions on the test. I gave them time to do them. Then we went over them together.

I got questions. I answered the questions. I solicited more questions. They assured me they were ready for the test.

I passed out the test. 

Colton raised his hand.

He pointed out the first question. "How do I do this? I don't even know how to start."

Um...

It was exactly like the first question in the warm up (with only the numbers being different). 

"That's what the question is asking you," I replied. And I walked away.

Why do they goof off until the test? (Don't answer that. I know.) 

But it was rather satisfying to walk away and not answer his question. If he had asked me how to do it five minutes prior, I would have told him. But no. So I left him to the "find out" portion of that well known phrase.

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.)

A Bad Poof

Because I was covering Ms. M's math classes for two weeks, I was given access to her Google Classrooms and the set up she usually uses to instruct her classes. 

Ms. M puts the slides she uses in class online, so the students can access the notes (like, if they were absent). They take down the notes in class as they're written, though. And they are written. Examples are worked out in real time. (She uses a whiteboard app called Jamboard.) 

Friday. Sixth period. It was almost the end of the period. I had done their notes and many examples. (The topic of the day was the area of circles.) 

The question of ℼ had come up. I explained that it was just a number (albeit a weird irrational one). Since they were viewing everything on the in class TV screen that I was using via a computer, I searched online for ℼ to more than a couple digits, and I found it. 

Then I went back to the lesson. But, everything I had written on the whiteboard app, everything that was supposed to remain in their Google Classrooms, vanished. Poof.

Uh...

I attempted to write something on one of the slides, and the digital pen wouldn't work. 

I had less than ten minutes of class, so I pivoted to something else, and then had them get ready to leave class. 

But what was I going to do? Was I going to have to recreate the notes from class so it would remain online? 

After they left, I tried to troubleshoot. The digital pen wouldn't work, so perhaps rebooting the computer might get that going...

And when everything restarted, all my notes reappeared on the slides.

Whew.

But, all my scribbles (from when I was trying to get the digital pen to work) were there as well.

Deep sigh.

The digital pen also has a digital eraser, so that was fixable. And at least I didn't have to try to remember everything I had done with them in class.

(Ms. M left notes that I was mostly copying for them, but I also worked out examples in their books and such, so while I wouldn't have to recreate it all from memory, there was stuff I would have had to recall.) 

Loopy

Thursday. Eighth grade math. Seventh period.

When Ms. M planned these two weeks that she'd be out, she found a unit that would take two weeks to complete (including unit test). She kept the topics similar for the seventh and eighth grades, although they wouldn't be the same. 

The seventh graders had learned about circumference and area of circles. The eighth graders had done the volume of cylinders. 

As a sub, I don't usually spend a whole period going over notes and problems and examples. (I usually introduce an assignment, answer some questions, and let them work.) So, by the end of the day on Thursday, I was worn out. 

I had taught the same lesson all day. They started with questions reviewing what they had done the previous class session. Then I went over the answers, starting by writing down the formula for the volume of a cylinder. 

"Shouldn't that be squared?" a student asked.

Instead of writing down the formula for the area of a circle, I had written down the formula for the circumference. (Something the seventh graders had done the previous day, but something none of the eighth grade classes had done on this day.) 

I wrote down the formula three different times, only getting it right on the third try. 

Yup, I was tired. And loopy. 

I had to shake it off and get my brain in the game. This was material that was new to them, so I had to get it right. 

I did. Eventually. After a shaky start.

It's a good thing I don't get too flustered when I make mistakes in front of them. I just own that I made an oops and continue on. (And I thanked the student who caught my mistake. What a disaster if I had continued on with the wrong formula.) 

By the time I get used to teaching them all day, my two week assignment will be over.

The Missing

Around Thanksgiving, I got an email from a teacher. Could I cover her class for the last two weeks of February? 

Because it's middle school math, we decided that things would go much smoother if I taught the class for two weeks (as opposed to them having independent assignments that I just kind of managed). 

Middle schoolers do better with routines. They're going to be on sub behavior because I'm not Ms. M. But we minimize the issues that crop up because they're doing what they're used to. (That's my theory, anyway.) 

One of Ms. M's routines is that when they enter the room, they retrieve a "tool bag" and deposit their cell phones in the pockets.

The "tool bag" contains a calculator, a dry erase marker, a dry erase board eraser, and a red pen. These are all things they can use while taking notes and doing assignments in class. 

This routine has meant that I haven't had to deal with cell phone issues in class. (Well, a couple students have attempted to keep their cell phones, and they played dumb when I caught them, but that was going to happen.) 

I started the gig on Tuesday. On Thursday, a student came up to me. The calculator was missing from their "tool bag". 

Because, of course. 

These are not state-of-the-art calculators. The calculator on their phones is nicer. (But no cell phones in class, so...) But whoever made off with the calculator was not going to be in class, so I borrowed from a "tool bag" of an empty seat so the kiddo had access to a calculator. And I got on with the day.

(We're on a block schedule, so the students I had on Wednesday I wouldn't have again until Friday.) 

By the end of the day, I discovered that two calculators had gone missing.

So, on Friday, I announced to each class that if the class calculator had happened to fall into their belongings to please return it. 

(Cheap, tiny calculators. I did not think they were deliberately lifted. This is the age where I find a water bottle and two jackets left behind each period. Mistakes occur.) 

By the end of the day, two calculators mysteriously reappeared on the teacher's desk. (Different periods.) 

As I wasn't looking for anyone to blame, I was quite happy with this. I ended the week with the same number of class materials that I started it with.