Officially of the Assignment

The Friday before spring break. English 9. Eighth period. 

The assignment: come up with examples for various ideas expressed in Romeo & Juliet. Things like "Being an obedient, sheltered, and naive child," or "Love can be chaotic and dangerous". 

They were allowed to work together. Some interesting conversations occurred. (These kinds of days are so much fun. I roam the room and just listen. I only pop in to the conversation if they're saying something that is factually wrong or if they need a referee for their debate.) 

The last topic was "Unrequited love". 

Adrian told Bruce to write "yumeshipping" on his paper. Adrian spelled it out. Bruce didn't like this idea. "What is that?" He pushed back. He figured it wasn't appropriate. 

Me? I was curious. It sounded vaguely anime. I had a feeling it was probably on target. 

Adrian searched it up. Definition: the practice of shipping yourself (or an original character that represents you) with a canon* fictional character. (And "shipping" refers to the desire by followers of a fandom for two or more individuals, either real-life people or fictional characters, to be in a relationship, in case you haven't heard the term before.) 

So, uh, yeah, creating a "relationship" with a fictional character is probably the ultimate in unrequited love. Fictional characters definitely can't love you back.

I'd say Adrian understood the assignment. 

I assured Bruce that yeah, that was an excellent example. There was some concern that Ms. B wouldn't like the example. I've met Ms. B, and while fairly strict (she teaches freshmen, after all), she's a reasonable individual. Personally, I think she'd be tickled that her students came up with an example she'd never heard of. (I assume she's not into this sort of thing, but I could be wrong.) 

Adrian wrote it down. I didn't look that closely at Bruce's finished paper, so I don't know if he added it as well. 

They'll start reading the play after the break (which it now is). Ah, Shakespeare. 

Have you ever heard of yumeshipping before? (Or shipping? Or canon* characters?) Would you ever want to create art (drawings or fan fiction) of yourself with a fictional character? Who?

*Canon: Of the original or official story. A "canon character" is a character from some piece of other fiction, like Batman or Dracula or Colter Shaw from Tracker. 

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

Angry Birds IRL

Thursday. Ninth grade English, special ed. Eighth period.

It's district writing assessment time (as I've mentioned in previous posts). While the other classes I've been in have been in the midst of writing these or finishing them up, this class was just getting started. 

Their essay was to be an argumentative one. They had studied the structure of the thing. This day was for the introduction of the topic. It had to do with climbing Mt. Everest and whether or not they should block people from doing so. (The kiddos get to pick a side and argue it.) 

I showed them a quick video that the teacher had assigned. Then they read the first two of the three articles that were to be their sources. We read the articles together, looking at statements for allowing climbers in and statements against. 

In the second article, one of the arguments against described how people did this thing in Moab, Utah with ropes and slingshots and... The description sounded horrifying. 

"That sounds like Angry Birds in real life." 

Absolutely brilliant statement, and totally funny. The whole class erupted in laughter.

Oh, I should probably mention that there were a total of four students in the class. But yeah, all four of them busted up laughing. 

Me too, really. 

Because yeah, that sounded suspiciously like Angry Birds. 

I was now curious, so I went looking. Yeah, there's video... 

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Not tempted in the slightest. Nor did the class seem tempted either. 

Once they were done laughing, we finished up the article. They'll spend more time reading a third article and figuring out what they're going to write, but I won't be there for it. 

These essays are interesting as the teachers really go into the nitty-gritty of how to write. And part of it is how to think for oneself. Important lessons, truly. 

Cough-Wink-Cough

Tuesday. Photography. 

Mr. S arrived shortly after I did. He explained that the art department was having their yearly planning session (which I was there for last year, covering a different teacher), and that he wanted to explain the assignment to the class. Okay, then... 

Their "open house" was the next day, only they call it something different now. They've shifted it to now as the students are getting ready to choose their classes for next school year, and the event is more about the various elective teachers and other programs promoting their offerings. 

Mr. S instructed his students to pick their best photograph and upload it to the slideshow that Mr. S was going to use for his open house presentation, to try to entice students to choose photography next year. They had to do it in a certain way so that Mr. S didn't have to go through and fix it later. 

I completely understood what the kiddos needed to do, but it kind of did need to come from him. 

While he was explaining the assignment, he had another announcement for the class. 

Mr. S: "Oh, and before I forget, and in case I forget to mention this on Thursday... So, you know how sometimes your teachers will tell you they feel like they're coming down with something, so they're going to miss school the next day? Yeah, well, I feel like I'm coming down with something, so I won't be here... Monday and Tuesday..."

The class? Crickets. 

I don't know if they got what Mr. S was hinting at, but whatever. I did. I really hope he had something fun planned. 

Then Mr. S went to his planning meeting, which was practically next door to the classroom, and he didn't return at all. (Unlike the teacher I covered last year.) 

No Return

Wednesday. Eighth grade English, seventh period. 

When I left the art class, I didn't say "goodbye" to them. I said, "see you around". I explained that while I might be leaving the art class, I was still a district sub, and I would most definitely see them in other classes. I wasn't surprised to see many familiar faces in Ms. R's classes, but some of them were surprised to see me. 

The day had gone fairly well as Ms. R is one of the strict ones and her lesson plan specifically stated that they were to work independently and quietly. (They were reading chapter ten of Lord of the Flies, and then they had questions to go along with it.) 

But this class contained Oscar and Calvin. 

I have mentioned Oscar on this blog before. Calvin was another student who couldn't sit still. He had been another of the students whose name I knew from repeated use. 

The assignment was finishable, but I doubt either boy finished it. They were out of their seats way too frequently. 

I was once again over by the boys, urging them to get to work. 

Calvin: "When will you return to the art class?"

I explained that I wasn't going to. I had been the interim teacher until they hired Ms. D, but now that Ms. D was there, she'd be there going forward. She's an actual art teacher where I was just filling in. 

Did Calvin even hear me? I kind of doubt it. He was on to another topic almost immediately. 

They did not like me much when I was their teacher. But now? Now they miss me. Apparently (Although, not very much as since I've left I've covered two classes that some of them have and I've been on campus two or three other times in the two weeks since I left the art class.) 

Three Weeks Notice

Friday. Eleventh grade English, eighth period. 

The kiddos had a quiz on The Great Gatsby chapters four through seven. As they walked in and asked what the plan for the day was, I told them this. Some of them were surprised. 

Emmitt: "You are required to give us three weeks notice before you give a quiz." 

Now, normally I'd push back on this. Say something snarky. Point out that pop quizzes were a thing. But I didn't have to. 

"I kind of actually did," I said. 

Another student: "She told us about it the first day she was here." 

Now, that was a bit of an exaggeration. I wouldn't say I mentioned it the first day. When we began the book, I outlined the plan. Quiz after chapter 3, quiz after chapter 7. Final on whole book (after I was out of the class). 

I can list all the times I mentioned that they had a quiz coming, but that might be a bit of overkill. Suffice it to say that I mentioned it a lot. 

And yet still, some of them were surprised. Well, I can only do what I can do.

Bigger

Wednesday. Second period sophomore math (again). 

Why is it always second period? Anyway...

Mr. Y had an IEP meeting, so it was just me and them. But no worries, as the topic was geometry, and I felt quite comfortable teaching it. 

Just after 9 AM, Alonzo left class. He had cleared it with me ahead of time as the band had a performance. I had seen the email, so I knew it was legit. But the boys were offended that he had gotten up and gone. (Before Alonzo left, he caught my eye and reminded me he was going. I nodded to indicate that was fine.) It was as if they were in charge, or something. 

I explained that Alonzo had left with permission, and it wasn't anything that the boys needed to be concerned with. Alonzo would be performing for the assembly for the sixth graders.

Sixth graders? 

Okay, so all the sixth graders from the local feeder elementary schools were going to be on campus for a kind of preview day. (The middle school is kind of attached to the high school. Long story.) They've only been doing this for a couple years, so it's a relatively new thing. Anyway, the high school band, color guard, cheerleaders, and choir were performing along with their middle school counterparts. 

The boys seemed to think that meant an assembly for the high schoolers. Yeah, no. Class was as normal for those not involved in specific activities. 

I continued on discussing how two adjacent angles could be added together. 

And then, the sixth graders appeared. 

This classroom is on the bottom floor of the STEAM building, and it has great big windows. 

We can see everyone who passes by. Mr. Y is fond of the view as he can see his students, especially those who arrive late. (I kind of feel like we're in a fishbowl, but I'm only there for a couple weeks.) 

So, of course we could also see the classes of sixth graders arriving and making their way through campus. 

I pointed this out to the class. They looked over. 

Some of the sixth graders waved. A few of the students waved back. 

(I had more time than material to cover, and I thought it was fun.) 

The students' main comment: "Why are they so small?"

Funnily enough, this is not the first time I've heard this comment. I assured the students that the sixth graders were normal sized for their age. They were just bigger now.

They weren't quite sure I was right. It just seems wrong to them, somehow. I'm not sure why. 

The sixth graders had passed us, so I went back to reminding them that all the angles in a triangle add up to 180°. 

And just like that, it's April. The only thing that changes around here is my titling. My personal game is to make my usual posts fit the letter of the day. Sometimes they just fall into place, like today. Other days I have to work a bit harder at it. 

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

The Poll Numbers

Sometimes teachers will leave their cell phone numbers for us subs just in case. I try not to use it as I don't want to bother them, but sometimes...

The first class of the day had a quiz. I told them to put their notebooks away. And they vehemently objected, stating that they were allowed to use notes. So, I texted Ms. S to ask, and sure enough, notes were allowed. 

Friday. Integrated math 2 (read: sophomore math) honors (read: taken by freshmen), sixth period. 

They had a quiz. It went well. While they had the whole period for the quiz, most had finished it with forty-five minutes left in class. (Block schedules give us loooong periods.) 

For the remainder of class, they were to study for their final which was the next week. (It'll be over by the time you read this. Their final was this past Tuesday.) 

"How many questions do you think will be on our final?"

A girl asked this of a friend, then another, and then another. She realized she was taking data, so she got out a dry erase board and started listing guesses. She went around the room asking everybody. 

And I just couldn't resist...

I'm sure the final is already set. But it was fun to mess with them.

In case you can't see the image...

Me: Student is polling the class on how many questions they think will be on the final. 

Ms. S: "liked" the text with "ha ha"

Ms. S: What do they think?

Me: 50 to 60, but with guesses as high as 200 and as low as 35.

Ms. S: Wow, tell them that 50 to 60 just seems like a lot, but if that's what they want, we can do it.

Ms. S: Also tell them Monday at lunch they can do a retake of the simplifying radical expressions if they want.

Me: Now they're guessing 24/25.

Ms. S: ::laughing with tears emoji::

Deadlines

 Friday. Eighth grade English, fifth period.

The kiddos had an assignment on culture. It was a project that they had had a couple weeks to work on. It was due, but eighth graders. Ms. R knew most of them had not finished it, so she was giving them one last period to get it done. 

Those students who actually had done what they were supposed to do got the period to get a jump start on an assignment that wasn't going to be due until January.

Jesse informed me he had "short term memory". No, I don't know what that means. To him, it meant that the fact that he got so easily distracted that he got practically no work done was justified by some amorphous brain issue. 

He suffers from being an eighth grader.

Jesse asked if his friend could sit next to him. The co-teacher pointed out that the two of them were holding a conversation just fine from where they were sitting. (They were.) And they continued to do so, even though I repeatedly asked Jesse how his assignment was coming along.

The girl between Jesse and his friend wasn't getting much done either. Mostly because she was contributing to the conversation. She was attempting to write something about being a tuba player. I gave her a couple ideas. She didn't think they worked. (Fine. I was just trying to get her working.)

Considering that the end of the semester is a couple weeks away, you'd think they'd be more on top of their work. Nope. They spent a lot of time looking at their grades. And being unhappy with their grades. I did point out the obvious, but at that age, they'll talk something to death before attempting to do anything.

At the end of the period I went to collect their projects. A few had finished. Jesse and his group? Nope. I pointed out the last day to turn in late work (as if they hadn't turned in the work, it was now late) was the following Wednesday. 

I wonder how many of them will get the assignment in by then.

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*

The Dog Ate My Homework

Thursday. The bell had just rung to let the kiddos out of school. One of the students had hung back to talk to me.

He started off by referencing an assignment that had been due on Tuesday. Then he explained...

"I was with my cousin. It was his birthday. I had my work out. We were playing with his dog..."

At this point I interrupted. "Are you going to tell me that the dog ate your homework?"

"No. He peed on it."

Ahem.

I got another copy of the assignment and gave it to the boy, and he was on his way.

A couple students had turned in this assignment (our second of the school year) to me hesitantly, so I announced to the classes that I was accepting late work (better late than never). While I'd prefer that they get the work in on time, I'd rather they turn it in eventually and not have a bunch of missing assignments. 

They're seventh graders (12 years old). I want them to get in the habit of getting their work turned in. I'll snarl at them about late work another time.

Faked

It was Friday of the second week of school, and the kiddos were working on an assignment called Science About Me. It consisted of questions like "favorite source of energy (favorite food)" and "favorite use of electricity". 

One of the questions was "phase of the moon on the day you were born". I took some time to explain how to search that up online. (I made a joke about wondering how they didn't know this already.) 

As it was an assignment destined to be posted in the classroom (I took last year's versions down my first day in the room), I encouraged them to draw pictures and make it colorful. 

One of the students questioned what color to make his moon. 

Me: The moon is gray. And it smells like gunpowder.

A couple students questioned me on that statement. I explained about the astronauts who went to the moon stating this. 

The student: The moon landings were faked... (Quietly, under his breath.)

Deep sigh. 

I did, of course, push back. But apparently I have my work cut out for me.

The New Gig

A couple weeks ago, I was offered a long-term gig in a special ed social studies class. That job started last Friday.

I'm vaguely familiar with the class. I covered it in December three years ago. Yes, 2020. At that time I was subbing from home.

On Friday I started off class by introducing myself. The classes knew that Mr. B would be out as he was having surgery. (He's due back the last week before winter break.) They were a bit surprised that he was already gone. (I'm sure he told them when he'd be out. This is kind of standard when it comes to student reactions.) 

It was sixth period. I did my intro, mentioning that Mr. B was out until December. One of the students remembered that he was having surgery.

"So, when he comes back, he'll be able to walk?"

Mr. B is in a wheelchair. I don't know what caused his paralysis. (I've never asked.) And I don't know what he's having surgery for. But I highly doubt that some surgery (that he's only going to need a few weeks to recover from) is going to miraculously make him no longer wheelchair-bound.

And I don't think Mr. B even part way hinted that this would be the case.

I had the student repeat the question for Ms. P, the class' instructional aide. I let her answer. I didn't want to ruin my rapport on my first day.

So far, this class seems pretty mellow. Which is good news for me, not so good news for the blog. We'll see. Hopefully I can find something interesting to blog about for the duration.

Jargon of the Educated

It is spring break for me, so last week's stories will appear next week. For this week, I'm on my "summer schedule". However, finding a TV show that starts with J that I like that you may not have heard of turned out to be impossible, so I'm pulling a story from March that did not quite make the cut the week it happened. 

Thursday. Eleventh grade English.

"These words aren't real."

The students were doing a crossword puzzle. (Well, two actually, if I want to be precise.) It was prep for their "final" the next day. 

A sampling of the "fake" words on the crossword: permeate, elicit, wheedle, hiatus, umbrage, corpulent, nebulous, unwieldy, contrive, and vapid. 

While this was the first time I've subbed for Ms. J this school year, I've subbed for her many times in the past. So, I understood where these words had come from.

Every day, she gives them five new vocabulary words. She gives them the words and definitions. They then match the words to one of five sentences she has also given them. The words are good. The sentences are clever. 

Their "final" (for the last day of the third quarter) was just a vocabulary test on two weeks' worth of words. (They were being tested on 40 words.) 

To the boy who made the statement, I assured him that the words were real. I knew the words. I use some of the words on the regular. 

I asked him if he was planning to go to college. He said he was. I told him it was good to build his vocabulary for college, and he might find that some of those words were useful.

He saw my point, actually. (The classes were pretty good.) And then he went back to work.

It was a long assignment. But they had all the tools they needed to complete it. I hope they all did well on that test.

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

Such a Karen

Monday. Fifth period accounting. 

They were half doing the assignment, half talking about random stuff. 

The phone rang. It was the attendance office. Demetrius was going home.

This happens a lot. When a student has an appointment or the parent wants to pick them up for any reason, they go to the attendance office. The attendance office calls the class. They tell me who they need. And I send the kiddo.

Many times the student is expecting the call and will already be ready to go. I've had a couple times where the phone rings and the student leaves before I even have a chance to say anything. But usually we at least exchange a glance.

I checked the seating chart for where Demetrius was. I called his name. I told him to get his stuff, he was going home.

Only, he wasn't happy about it.

"Really. On a Monday*... Why? Why do I have to leave? I don't want to leave."

At this point, it's not up to me. He's been summoned. I told him he could take it up with the individual who had shown up to pick him up. 

He left. 

His friends...

"If Demetrius was a girl, he would be a Karen." 

I couldn't help it. I laughed. 

Demetrius didn't return to class. I assume there was a reason he was picked up.

*Monday is our short day, when school starts an hour and a half later and the classes are shortened. 

Sniping at Each Other

Digital art. Sixth period. 

It had been a weird art day. The classes were mostly silent. (Art classes are generally very talkative.) So, sixth period gave me a bit of culture shock when they weren't. 

Of course, the class was filled with mostly freshmen...

Two boys were sniping at each other from across the room. One insulted the other boy's hair. The other questioned the first boy's sports prowess. And on it went. 

Then:

Boy 1: "Stay in your corner, big man." (By his tone of voice, he meant "big" as "fat".)

Boy 2: "Stay at McDonalds, big man." 

This exchange got everyone's attention. It was repeated twice by others as some had missed the nuances. (Picture me shaking my head.) Someone chimed in to say that boy 2 was being racist. 

Boy 2: "Not gonna lie, that was kinda racist."

Another boy entirely: "You both are the same race!"

Ah, the joys of freshmen...

Anticipation

Friday. The continuation high school. Technically, the class was woodshop, but due to safety concerns, we were in the teacher's other classroom where he teaches graphic arts. 

I don't know why the topic of prom came up other than they do start talking about it as early as October. 

Cole: "Are they going to have a DJ?"

Wanda: "Yes. Me. I'm going to DJ prom."

Cole: "Oh, well, then I'm not going..."

And the rest of the class erupted in laughter. 

Deep sigh. 

Cole: "There'll be like eleven, twelve people there..."

Yeah, I don't think so. 

Prom is popular. If it wasn't, they would have stopped having it by now. There'll be a crowd. And the way Wanda talked, it sounds like she's a professional DJ. I'm sure she knows what she's doing.

Kids are cruel. And I imagine Cole will be eating his words.

In Passing

Passing period. It's the time between classes, when the kiddos go from one room the next. 

As per usual, I was standing at the door, greeting students as they came in. (It's encouraged for us to do that.)

This particular classroom opens to the lunch area. We're across from the ASB office, which opens to a wide open space. I can see to the front gate, the parking lot, the band room, and almost as far as the gym. 

A ways away, along the sidewalk, were a group of three students in amongst the throngs making their way to their next class. One called my name. I waved.

Student 1: "We miss you!"

Students 2 & 3: "No, we don't..."

They didn't see my smile behind my mask.

Too Much Information

Middle schoolers are way more fun virtually. Things that are annoying (or worse, disruptive) in person take on a certain whimsy online. 

Friday. I was covering a special ed middle school English class. Out of nowhere, a student turned on his microphone and announced, "I pooped my pants!" 

Me: "Thank you for sharing???" 

Then he turned his microphone back on to apologize. Apparently little sister took control of his computer to...? Perhaps she was trying to embarrass him. 

Mission accomplished. 

A Lingering Question

Twelfth grade English. It was co-taught, so I took roll while the other teacher explained the lesson. (They were continuing analyzing an article that they had read earlier in the week.) 

As is normal, some students blinked out of the meet only to return. I've stopped worrying when a student disappears from the meet. Most of the time they're having technical issues.

In second period, a student returned from logging out. He explained why in the chat: 

Sorry for leaving my aunt just got out and I was on the phone with her

Besides the kiddo's propensity for not using punctuation, the explanation left me wondering. . .

Just got out of where?

The Final

The last week before winter break was finals. The last week of the semester. 

I started covering the special ed social studies class two weeks prior. That first day I received a copy of the finals schedule. As soon as I saw it, I uploaded it to the classes' Google Classrooms. Over the next two days, I made sure to tell each class where they could find the schedule. 

For the whole following week, I made mention of the finals schedule at least once a period. One day I even presented it to each class to make sure they looked at it. On their last day of the week, I made special mention of what day their finals were on, as some of them would be meeting on the "wrong" day. 

(The schedule is staggered. Periods 1, 3, and 5 meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Periods 2, 4, and 6 meet on Wednesdays and Fridays. All classes meet on Mondays. So, while it wouldn't be weird for periods 1 and 2 to go to class on Monday, it is odd for period 4 to meet on a Tuesday.) 

So, they should have it, right? 

On Sunday as I was going through my email (mostly to clear out the clutter), I ran across a student comment: "I was at a funeral. i missed other classes today  2 wonder how can i complete my final"

This was in response to the teacher's posting of what would be covered in their final. 

Um. . . I. . . 

I just. . . 

What I actually did was to reply to the student's comment. Calmly. "Your final is on Wednesday. You haven't missed it." 

Privately, well, you can see what I'm doing privately. Shaking my head. Wondering. 

They don't listen. I mean, I knew this, but still. I can't say I didn't go over it with them and explain.