Heart Break

Third period government. I was in a classroom two doors down from the success seminar classroom. 

The class was... meh. These are seniors, so presumably they're more mature. But too many of them were on their phones rather than doing the assignment (which was on money and elections). They weren't too terrible, mostly mellow once they settled down, so I had nothing to complain about.

Janine had a finished project from ceramics. It was a small mug with no handle. It was a cute little thing, and several of the students stopped to admire her handiwork. 

We had ten minutes left in class. Tyson slipped into the seat in front of her. His arm swung along her desk area, his elbow making contact with the mug. 

Swoop.

The mug fell to the floor and shattered. 

Ouch!

It happened so fast. Janine was understandably upset, but I didn't hear Tyson offer an apology. He gave excuses. "It broke really easy. That's cheap clay." 

I told him he owed her big time. He wanted to figure out how much that meant in dollars. 

I don't know about people sometimes. 

There wasn't much to do. I left a comment in the note, but this is not really the sort of thing that needs to be punished. Janine wouldn't have gotten to take the piece home if it hadn't been graded, so she's only out the finished object, not the grade.

Still, I'm sad. It was a nice little mug. It would have been nice if Janine had gotten to use it.

Four Doodles

As it was the first full week of school, the ceramics class hadn't yet been instructed on how to handle clay. Which meant that once they had done some of the intro lessons, there wasn't much more they could do in class. 

So, on Friday, I gave them the Four Doodles assignment. 

This is an assignment he does start the classes with every year. The ceramics 2 class (the group who had this class last year) recognized it. 

It went about as I expected it to. Some of them took the assignment seriously. Some of them half-assed it.

But I mention it because I thought some of you might like to try it. It's a great Zen-out type of mindless drawing. 

You'll need a pencil and a piece of computer or copy paper. Fold it half and then in half again, so you have four boxes each taking up a fourth of the page. 

Each of the boxes should be filled when this is complete. 

In the first box, fill it with circles and circles only. Big ones. Little ones. Varied or not. 

In the second box, fill it with squares made up of horizontal and vertical lines. Like, the first square is made up of only horizontal lines. Then next to it, the square is made up of only vertical lines. The sizes of the squares can vary. 

The third box is full of wavy lines. Start by dividing the box with a wavy line. Then to the right of this line, try to make a line parallel to it. Fill up all the space to the right with wavy lines. Then do the same thing to the left.

And finally, the last box is filled with any random lines you like. The only limit is THE LINES CAN NOT CROSS. The next line can go all the way up to the previous line, but it must not go across it. 

I totally would have created a couple of these, but alas I was busy doing teacher things--taking roll, answering the phone, and the other random things that tend to pop up when all I want to do is stare into space (or play on the computer). 

I hope you all have a peaceful weekend.

Adjusting on the Fly

Because of our new online sub scheduling system, Mr. P knew who his sub would be before his week out started, and he emailed me the lesson plans. 

While normally the classes would be making something with clay (ceramics class), because it was the first full week of school, the students had assignments on the computer. (They were to read the syllabus and to learn about the elements of art and principles of design.) 

I am now very familiar with Google Classroom, so when I saw the plans, I asked Mr. P to add me to his classes so I could troubleshoot any issues. Because I knew there would be an issue.

Thursday. I logged into the computer and double checked the day's assignments. They were scheduled to post... on Friday. Sigh.

Yes, I was very glad that I had access. It was very easy to post the lessons for the day, and the only thing the students noticed was that I had posted the day's assignments rather than Mr. P. 

And this is why I'm glad I insisted on being added to the class. (It's really easy to remove myself from the class after I'm done.) It's so much easier for me to just fix the issue while I'm in class rather than having to try to contact the teacher. (And since I don't know why he's missing class, getting a hold of him might be difficult in the moment.) 

Repeating the Class

For the first full week of school (school started on a Thursday of the previous week), I accepted a week-long assignment in ceramics. I covered this class before a couple years ago for three-ish (?) weeks (when the teacher fell off his bike and broke his collar bone), so I had a basic idea of how the class was run. 

Because the year is just beginning, the students were given introductory assignments having to do with the syllabus and the elements of art and the principles of design. 

The assignments didn't take the whole class period. So, I was on guard to make sure the students didn't get into anything they shouldn't. 

It was early into the last class of the day when I noticed that a student wasn't even attempting the assignment. 

Lucia didn't speak any English, so her table mates translated. Lucia showed me that she had done the assignment... in a different period. 

After some back and forth, I figured out that she was in both third and eighth periods. 

Deep sigh. 

Every year, there are mistakes in the schedules. Students are missing classes during a period. Students have two classes during one period. Students are missing required courses. Students get the same class twice...

The entire week new students were starting and other students got dropped. A student who was new to the class wasn't in my attendance software three times (that is, three different students). 

Some students were moved from one period to another. Some just joined the class. 

You really don't want to know what the paper rosters looked like at the end of the week.

I would have thought that Lucia would have caught the error and done something to fix it by eighth period, but the language issue was probably a contributing factor to that slipping through the cracks. (The school is on a block schedule, so third period was on Monday and eighth period was on Tuesday.)

The next day that issue was fixed. Lucia was dropped from third period (to take something else then, I assume). She remained in eighth. At least when she got to eighth period on Thursday, she hadn't already done the assignment. 

Missed It

It was one of those lovely days that I don't write about. Ceramics. The kiddos were pretty much on task, and my biggest concern was staying awake.

At the end of the period, they went to the sinks to wash the clay off their hands. I was seated next to one. I happened to look over as one boy was washing his hands...

I've been subbing a while. I knew this boy. I'd had him in class several times in the past. He's never made the blog before. He does his work, mostly. He's never been rude to me. He's like 75% of the students I encounter. (Yes, mostly the kiddos are pretty good.)

Anyway, I looked over and noticed... The boy had no thumb on one of his hands. (I think it was the right hand, but at this point I don't recall precisely.)

And all I could think was: how had I never noticed this before?

This boy's a senior. I've probably had him in classes for five years, if not six. I've passed him as I do class walk arounds. I've passed papers to him and had him pass papers back to me. I've called his name on the roll (or asked his name as I did a reverse roll call).

And I never noticed?

Wow. I really need to be paying better attention.

Broken Skulls

As it is October, the assignment for the ceramics classes was to make Calaveras (sugar skulls). They had two weeks.

(They were to make two pinch bowls, score & slip them together creating a hollow sphere, and then sculpt that into a Calavera. I get lesson plans like this all the time--plans that make little to no sense to me. I just read it to them and hope they get it.)

As they turned in their skulls on Friday (leaving them out on a shelf), the students in following periods would stop to gawk. A couple of them tried to touch. I got snippy about those that wanted to touch other students' skulls. I could just see someone accidentally breaking another student's two weeks worth of work.

We got through the entire Friday with all the skulls intact.

Then my assignment got extended one more day. (It's a long story about doctor's notes and school bureaucracy.)

Monday's assignment had them writing about their skulls. They were to describe them using the elements and principles.

Well, of course they'd need to have their skulls in front of them for that. And they'd be careful with their own work, right?

Fifth period. A boy raised his hand. He waved me over. He needed to show me something.

Half his skull was rubble. There were several chunks of what had been the face sitting in the hollow of what had been the back of the head.

What had happened? He wasn't entirely sure. All I could think about was how much work he had put into that thing.

I asked him what Mr. P would have him do in this situation. He said he'd get to remake it. Well, okay then...

At least that was only the second skull that got broken that day. (The first one wasn't a big loss. I attempted to get the boy to put more effort into his skull. He didn't see my point.) And somehow we made it through the rest of the day without another mishap.

Double Drill Day

California holds a state-wide earthquake drill every October. (You know how much I love those drills.) Of course the schools participate.

The drill was scheduled for 10:18 AM, which put it about five minutes into third period (after they adjusted the bell schedule for the day. On a normal day, the students are out of class at "snack" at that time).

Right after getting to school that morning, I found the evacuation folder, so I was good to go. Not looking forward to it, but good to go.

We were about halfway into first period (so, roughly 8:30) when the fire alarm rang. Seriously?

But this is not the school where we ignore those bells, so we had to evacuate. Ugh.

Alas, the students weren't evacuating. They were cleaning up.

The ceramics class has some strict instructions as to cleaning up. They put away their projects into cubby holes. Then they have to wipe down their tables and sweep up underneath. They even dry off the tables after wiping them down.

They were halfway into this process when I realized they weren't leaving. Those bells don't ask us to evacuate unless something has gone wrong, so I urged them, just leave it and go. If it was a minor thing, we'd be back and they'd have time to clean up. If it was something bad, it was best to get out as quickly as possible.

By the time I got them out and we were halfway to the staging area, the bells rang to release us back to class.

They still had twenty or so minutes of class. Did they get back to their projects? Of course not. Nope, they were halfway cleaned up, so they finished and sat. Sigh.

Then we got to do it all again two periods later. But in this case, they didn't start their projects as we knew we'd be evacuating. (They worked after we got back.)

Any other day that first evacuation would have been enough. But at least I got a good walk in that day.

Keeping Track

I'm not generally in a class long enough for certain issues.

I remember certain students. In some cases it's due to bad behavior, but not always. It might just be an unusual name that does it. Busola is one of those.

Once I found out I was going to be in this ceramics class for a bit (because the teacher broke his collarbone), I knew I was going to want seating charts. Mr. P does not have seating charts because the students don't really have assigned seats.

Take a look at the picture above. They sit on stools at big tables. Ten to twelve students can fit around a table.

I made seating charts anyway.

It took me most of a day. That second day. I went around to each table, asked each student their name (my preferred method of taking roll), and marked that down on a seating chart. I then recopied the seating chart to make it neat and "pretty".

Yes, it was labor intensive. And yes, it was so worth it.

Because roll then took me about two minutes. I could look over each table and see who was missing.

Of course, the students didn't necessarily stay put. A couple liked to wander. There's one boy who chooses between two tables, depending on the day.

But, I didn't mark anyone absent before stating that I was going to mark them absent. I did this at their table. The rest of the table either confirmed the student was absent, or they pointed out where that kiddo was. (They could have been up getting supplies. They might have been in the restroom.)

However, if I knew the kiddo by name, I didn't call out to confirm absence. And usually I'd spot where those kiddos were. Like Busola.

So, when Busola came at me during week two, angry that I had marked her absent for two days, I could state (with the roll sheet as proof) that I had not. (She sat in one seat when I made the seating chart, but she was about two seats down from there the rest of the time.)

Curious, I called the attendance office. Had I made a mistake?

Nope. It turned out that Busola had been marked absent in the period before the one she had with me. She misread her attendance on whatever app it is that the students use for that.

(And, it turned out that the attendance office is a month behind inputting substitute teachers' roll, anyway. So, it couldn't have been me.)

At least I didn't screw up. But I find it funny that Busola was so certain I had missed her.

Shrinking Middle Schoolers

It's a ceramics class, so while the kiddos are working with their hands, they talk. About all sorts of things.

I don't know how they got on the topic of middle schoolers. (The classes are populated with 11th and 12th graders.) But, I also don't know how they got on the topic of God, of tweezing eyebrows, of Bob Ross, or of when their parents had the sex that produced them. They talk about all sorts of weird things.

I generally don't butt into the conversations unless they are factually incorrect or they're talking about something that isn't appropriate for a classroom. But this one...

"They're so small. The middle schoolers are shrinking."

Me: "No, you're just bigger. You were that size once."

"No. I wasn't..." She thought about this. "Are you sure they're not smaller than they used to be?"

Me: "The middle schoolers are the same size as they have been. You've just grown."

She took my word for it. But it kind of blew her mind. She didn't think she'd grown that much, but today's middle schoolers were much smaller than her.

The difference between 11th grade and 7th grade is four years. To them it feels like longer. (Oh, don't even get them started on "little kids". They really have no concept of age.)

Bright and Shiny

Wednesday morning. I opened the door to the classroom, flipped on the lights, and startled at how bright it was in the classroom. Whoa!

But I knew immediately what had happened. I looked up. Sure enough, overnight all the lights had been replaced.

My first assignment for this school this school year was a history class. And I noticed the new lights in that room. Instead of the old fluorescent flat panels, these have a column of light down the center. Apparently, these are LEDs, so they're more energy efficient.

Usually, when I enter a classroom, I haven't been in there in a while. So, I wouldn't notice the difference in the lighting. But, because I had been there the day before, I immediately saw it. And whoa, these things are so much brighter than the fluorescent panels.

Now I understand why others have said that getting used to the new lights is an adjustment.

This also answered a question I had had. I wondered how long it took them to install. (Some rooms have them, some rooms don't.) Now I know. Overnight. (The students said that they're upgrading a couple classrooms a night.)

20 More Minutes

I'm still in the same ceramics class from last week. At the moment we're told the teacher is only going to be out two more weeks. We're hopeful, but I won't be at all surprised if this assignment gets extended further.

The sub caller laughed about how I'm getting "the weird ones". To be fair, this is only the second "weird one" after the CAD teacher's jury duty kept getting extended in August. (I suppose she meant that usually these longer assignments are more expected, like a teacher is out for a scheduled surgery or maternity leave.)

What I find funny is that I stumbled into this assignment because I wanted 20 more minutes in bed.

That Wednesday I had nothing scheduled. So, I was happy to receive an early morning wake up call. I had a couple choices as to an assignment (which was much better than the day before when there had been nothing).

I had a choice between two sites. I picked the site with the later start time just because if I'd picked the other site, I would have had to get out of bed as soon as I hung up the phone.

So, I stumbled into this assignment out of sheer laziness. It's a strange sort of luck.

He Likes Us

When I talked to the ceramics teacher's wife the day after his accident (where he broke his collar bone), she warned me that his period five was his difficult class.

They got the same intro as the other periods (namely, they were told what had happened to Mr. P and that he'd be out for longer than a couple days). Then we got into the lesson (which was busywork as Mr. P hadn't anticipated being out).

As I do, I strolled around the room. I overheard many interesting conversations.

"And he was just beginning to like us..."

After school, I got a text telling me that Mr. P was awake and wanted to speak to me.

He asked how his classes were. I told him things had gone smoothly, considering. (This was true.)

Then I related what I'd overheard in fifth period.

Mr. P laughed. Apparently, no, he was not warming up to them. But he was amused they thought so.

I felt no need to disabuse them of this notion, though. Perhaps they'll be on their best behavior upon his return.

That Was Fast

It was one of those mornings. No lesson plans after an early morning wake up call. Luckily, I found one of the teacher's previous sub lesson plans with his phone number on it. Hurrah!

I texted him only to get a call back from his wife. The night before he had gone bicycle riding, and he'd had a bit of an accident. Broken collar bone. She called me because he was asleep.

High school ceramics. The majority of the students are juniors and seniors.

I asked Mrs. P how much I could tell the kiddos. She said I could inform them of the situation.

So, third period, I started class with the story. (I didn't get a chance to talk to Mrs. P until second period.) You'll be glad to know that when I related "broken collar bone", the majority of the class winced. (It's rather scary when classes cheer injury, but I've seen it happen.)

We got on with the lesson (Mrs. P was also helpful in helping me locate lesson plans). Class ended. Then it was passing period to fourth period.

Three or four students had arrived. One boy at the back of the class spoke to a classmate. "Accident. Broken collar bone."

My thought: "Man, that was fast."

You'd think we'd need a period before students came in knowing the story, but no. I guess we can blame it on cell phones. I'm sure someone texted someone and it got back to this kid.

I confirmed his story at the beginning of class. And every period after, there was at least one student who had heard. In sixth period, the girl was incredulous. She read her text. She looked at me. She shook her head relating what she'd read. I confirmed.

At least they know the real story. Those false rumors can quickly get out of control.