Deliberate Misinterpretation

Emily was the only one actually doing any work in second period. This was the continuation high school, so students not accomplishing much is a normal Thursday. Emily managed to complete two assignments.

And she wasn't even enrolled in the class.

(Emily was in wood shop second period, but it was too cold in the room. She received permission to switch to the warmer room.)

During the passing period between second and third, I noticed Emily had left a paper behind. I scanned it. Assuming she'd return for it, I left the paper on her desk.

Then third period arrived.

One of the boys picked up the page.

"Does anyone know Emily? She left a suicide note."

In seconds it had gone through five sets of hands, everyone wanting to see the "suicide note".

"It's not a suicide note," I informed them. "Give it to me."

"How do you know?" a student asked.

"I've read it."

"What does it say?" He folded the note and held it away from me.

What? He wanted me to quote it verbatim? I don't think so.

In retrospect, I realize I should have picked the paper up when I saw it. I really should know better.

The boy eventually gave me the paper, and I left it on the teacher's desk. And they got started in class... Well, they sat down, anyway. Not much work got done.

What was in the "note"? Here it is:

Did you ever write notes in school? Did you ever misplace an assignment? 

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

No Hablo Ingles

I was covering two days of a U.S. history class. As they were juniors and Ms. G's classes tend to be on the good side, I wasn't too concerned when a few students gathered together while they did their work.

Of course, I made a point of going over to them and looking over their shoulders. And they explained their grouping.

"Kevin needs our help. He doesn't speak any English."

Hmmm. Now I'm suspicious. There are some students at that school that don't speak any English, but usually the teachers give me a heads up (and they give the student an alternative assignment or the student has a "helper"). But why volunteer that information so readily? I hadn't asked.

Plus, the boys were having way too much fun in their little group.

Day two in the class. I was a little stricter with them, but the boys still found their little group. A couple of them went out to the restroom. When one of the boys returned, he stood over another boy, and it was clear something was going on. So, I approached.

The boy sat down. He pulled out his backpack, and then I saw that it had been flipped. So, now I understood why he was upset. I gave the other boy my best "really?" look. I growled at them to get back to work (and stop messing with each other).

It was only after I left the group that it hit me. The boy who had been upset? Was Kevin. Who supposedly doesn't speak any English.

Funny how we were able to communicate pretty readily in English when he asked to use the restroom and when he returned and we discussed his backpack.

This is why I am dubious when I am told a student doesn't speak any English. Because they lie.

But luckily they are really, really bad at this lying thing.

Poison Ivy Fight

Has the internet decided that it's now Flashback Fridays? I don't know anymore. I first started doing reposts on Tuesdays, but then someone started #ThrowbackThursday, so I moved my day to repost old blogs posts to Thursday. I suppose I could start doing them on Friday if that becomes the thing...

Until someone tells me differently (or I decide to jump on that bandwagon), I'll repost on Thursdays. 

Sometimes being a sub is like being a fly on the wall. The kiddos will talk of things as if I'm not even around. Then sometimes, they come up with outrageous stories that I think they would have told to their teacher. This is one of those. They swore it was a true story. This was originally posted on February 12, 2010. 

"We once had a poison ivy fight. It was sooooo painful afterwards."

6th period hadn't started yet. (11th grade U.S. history.) The students were finding their seats. After this utterance, I happened to look over at the TA, and he started laughing. There was no help for it. I couldn't hold the laughter in.

The TA asked the question. The boy explained:

"We were weeding. We were wearing gloves. Then somebody happened to touch someone else's neck, and his neck got all red, and then..."

The boy who had prompted this story had left the room to get some water. (The topic started when he told of an ice fight.) The TA was still laughing. And then the period started.

Sometimes... I do not understand the reasoning of 16-year-old boys. At least the TA got a kick out of it. He said that the story made his day.

A Chip Story

It was the end of a long, hot day in the special ed resource room at the continuation high school. (It was hot outside, but the air conditioning was working perfectly inside.) We had two students, one working on her math assignment while the other was working on his history assignment.

The instructional aide (IA) had chips. Doritos, to be precise. She got a big bag because the store was out of the individual sized bags, so she was sharing.

The kiddos managed to scare up a plate, and they were sharing the chips nicely. Until the girl finished her math assignment and went back to class. She grabbed the plate of chips and took them with her.

The boy jumped up and followed.

And I followed the boy to bring him back. He did not have permission to leave.

When I caught up with him, he had retrieved the plate of chips. And he scarfed them all down as quickly as he could. While I stood in front of him and watched him do it.

Then we went back into the room.

The boy wailed. The girl had eaten all the chips. The IA had to give him some more.

I, of course, told the IA exactly what the boy had done with the chips not 30 seconds prior.

I mean, seriously? He thought I wasn't going to say anything? Geez!

She Asked What?

I was perusing my "random thoughts" tag to find the link I used on Monday (the one about how I don't lose things), and I stumbled across this gem. This is the second time I've reposted it, but it's worth the repost. It originally appeared on September 7, 2008.  

Since the kitchen has been down, we've been going out to eat a lot. It's easier than trying to wash dishes in the bathroom sink. Tonight we ended up at Chili's.  

I was fighting off a headache, so I was a bit more cranky than usual. Unfortunately, we got seated right behind a group of girls who were out to have a good time. Loudly.  

Chili's is normally loud. These girls were louder. And they were cackling like they had had a bit too much to drink. When they laughed, they just had to hit the back of their seat which was right up against my seat. It was worse than the day I was at Ruby's behind the young child who would not sit still. (At least in that case I could forgive the child for not knowing any better.)  

Because our tables were back to back, we had the same server. After he had brought us our drinks, he went to take their order.  

I guess the girls thought he was cute. They were very obviously flirting. They asked if the server was married.  He was. Then they asked his age and how long he'd been married. These questions were getting more and more personal. And then one of the girls came out with this impertinence:  

"Have you cheated on her yet?"  

Seriously. They asked that. My jaw just about hit the table. (I was so astonished I did not hear how he responded. I hope he gave them a very rude answer.)  

Some people. I mean, really.  

Vague Competition

"Did you sub for Ms. F?"

Not in the last couple months. I wracked my brain. I couldn't remember if I had subbed for her this school year. Of course, when a student asks me that, he's really just trying to place me. Where has he seen me before? That's when we start going through who his teachers are.

"I'm around all the time," I said. "I'm sure I covered one of your classes."

Another student piped up: "She doesn't remember you."

What was I supposed to remember?

"Remember that time that you passed out that assignment and told us how to complete it and then told us it was due at the end of the period?"

Um...

"Remember that time that you had us all pass up our work, and you told me to make sure my name was on my paper?"

Well...

"Remember that one time when you called roll and mispronounced that one girl's name?"

Oh, I get it.

"You're having a vague competition."

They confirmed. Clever.

And perfect timing. I was wondering what I was going to post for V...

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

Would you believe me if I told you that this took place in a special ed classroom? How are you doing with these later letters of the alphabet?

Guess My Musical Instrument

"You look like you play the oboe."

That's what got my attention. The boy to whom the comment was directed looked confused.

"Elbow?"

What does an oboe player look like? I challenged the boy who made the initial comment. He hemmed and hawed. I asked him if I looked like an oboe player. He said I didn't.

Funny. I guess that decade I spent in various school bands was all my imagination, then. (Although, I was never very good...)

I informed the boy that one couldn't tell what instrument one played just by looking at them.

"What instrument does he play?" he asked, pointing at the boy seated next to him.

Didn't I just say...

Fine. I needed to narrow it down a bit. Woodwind or brass? I was told woodwind.

I looked at the boy in question. How was I supposed to know what he played? I threw out saxophone followed by my second guess of bass clarinet.

His eyes went wide. He was an alto sax player.

"What instrument does she play?"

After being told woodwind, I thought flute. But that's way too obvious. So, I said clarinet. But...flute.

You'd think they'd be done, right? But no. It seemed like half the geometry class was in the band. And I was directed to another student. Boy. Woodwind.

"Clarinet?"

Bullseye. Next, a girl. Brass.

"French horn?"

(French horn players... Well, she just seemed like... But I can't tell what instrument just by looking!)

Finally, the boy who started all this told me to guess him. Brass. Well, I knew he had to be low brass, so I went with the obvious.

"Trombone?"

They now thought I was a witch. The clarinet player was very impressed. I don't know why. Perhaps if I had gotten 100%, but I didn't. Not really.

I guess my time in various bands (in junior high, high school, and college) paid off. Somewhat.

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

Did you play in your high school band? What instrument? If you could play a musical instrument, which one would you choose?

The Off Game

Typing class at the continuation high school. After making sure the students were on the proper program, I went back to the front of the room and took a seat. Of course, the teacher's computer was open to the monitoring software.

I hadn't even had a chance to settle when I heard the loud protest: "He turned my computer off." Then seconds later, that student's computer also mysteriously powered off.

Oh no. Really?

Both students claimed innocence. "Diego did it." (Diego was seated two seats away from the both of them, and he was busy on his own computer.)

Time to move students.

Marcus, the one who supposedly started it all, moved to the new computer indicated with minimal protest. Jose, however, wasn't having it. He didn't do anything. Why was he being punished? (I was moving him to an on computer unlike the off one he was sitting in front of. He's lucky I wasn't passing out referrals.)

Eventually, Jose went to the computer indicated. I turned around for one minute...and Marcus glided across the aisle to turn off the computer of a girl who had nothing to do with any of this.

Okay, that one I saw. (The others I only saw the aftermath.)

You think they'd be done with this, but no. That's when Diego went over to "visit" Jose, and Jose's computer turned off.

Diego: "Jose turned it off himself."

Um, right. Sure.

At that point the period was over. It was time to log off computers and get ready to leave.

As they were going, from Jose: "It's no fair. You [referring to Marcus] got me three times, and I only got you once."

Jose, that is a confession. So much for your innocence.

Final Review?

The lesson plan was a bit vague:

Work on review for final. Continue reading and outlining chapter 25. 

Good enough.

I explained this to the class: "Ms. G would like you to review for your final and/or continue outlining chapter 25."

Hand in air: "Can we review for our final?"

Okay, seriously? I mean, it's not like I haven't encountered this sort of thing before. But I expected better of them.

It was an AP class.

Had a Very Shiny Nose

Passing before 6th period. Middle school--likely 8th graders. (The student wasn't coming into my class, but the teacher next door also taught 8th grade. I think.)

"♫ ♪ ♫ Rudolph the red nosed reindeer... ♪ ♫ ♪"

Um, it's January...

And then I remembered what I look like.

I woke up on Sunday with the ugliest big red zit on my nose. It discolored my entire nose, making that feature look a bit like W.C. Fields'. (I'm not posting a pic of this awfulness. You're welcome.)

I hadn't spent much time thinking about it. No one said anything to me about it. I only remembered when I looked into a mirror, or when someone sang about red noses...

Gee, thanks, kiddo. Way to be subtle. 

Flying Balls

Is it unreasonable for me to require students not throw a ball around while inside a classroom?

Don't worry, that question is rhetorical (mostly).

It was after snack at the continuation high school on a Friday. Small group. Kick back assignment (video).

Someone found a small ball. It was about 3/4ths the size of a standard volleyball. And the students thought, "Wouldn't it be fun to throw this around at each other?"

They didn't understand why I would put a stop to their fun.

Rather than give the usual explanation, I went more personal. I explained that when things go flying in the classroom, I'm the one that gets hit. True story.

In various classrooms over the years, I've been hit by paper, pencils, erasers, rubber bands, and a book. (It was a math book. Long, ugly story.)

They knew of one pencil incident, so they knew I spoke the truth.

You'd think that the throwing thing would go without saying. Deep sigh.

Christmas in October

Earth science. It's a tricky day. The class is populated by 9th graders who failed 8th grade science. My primary job is to clamp down on any crazy behavior.

For the most part last Monday, the classes were okay. They were loud, but I didn't observe much crazy. Until 5th period.

One student took something like five tissues and headed for the door. This is such an everyday occurrence that it normally deserves no remark. What elevates it to blog-worthy came next.

The student stood in the doorway and playacted blowing his nose. He put the tissue on the tip of his nose, blew so the tissue fluttered out in front of him, and then crumpled the clean tissue, finally disposing of it in the trash. He did this five times.

(He stood so that he was facing outside. I tried to get close enough to see who he was playacting for, but I never did get to see which girl he was trying to impress.)

When I questioned him, he went to the corner of the room, sat on the floor, and declared that he was in a "time out". Like he was a kindergartner or something. (His fellow students thought this hilarious. Somehow I managed to get him to sit in a real chair like a high schooler.)

After that, the class settled to restaurant on Saturday night noise levels, but the key word here is "settled". They sat and sort of worked.

Then from another corner of the room, I heard singing. "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer".

Um, it's October. We haven't even had Halloween yet.

Then a student in the opposite corner of the room broke into "Frosty the Snowman".

Apparently, I wandered into cartoon land without even realizing it.

(I ran into their teacher the next day. He was not amused by any of this.)

When is the strangest time you've encountered someone breaking into Christmas songs?

Poison Ivy Fight

Sometimes I catch half a conversation, and it stops me cold. This one did. It was originally posted on February 12, 2010, and I still recall this exchange vividly.

"We once had a poison ivy fight. It was sooooo painful afterwards."

6th period hadn't started yet. (11th grade U.S. history.) The students were finding their seats. I happened to look over at the TA, and he started laughing. There was no help for it, I couldn't hold the laughter in.

The TA asked the question. The boy explained:

"We were weeding. We were wearing gloves. Then somebody happened to touch someone else's neck, and his neck got all red, and then..."

Apparently, the boys then threw poison ivy at each other. For a while. It was fun while they were throwing plants, but they paid for it later.  

The boy who prompted this story left the room to get some water (he started it all when he related a story of an ice fight). The TA was still laughing. And then the period started.

Sometimes... I do not understand the reasoning of 16-year-old boys. At least the TA got a kick out of it. He said that the story made his day.

Break In Fail

Opportunity class again. The group has gone crazy. But rather than tell you about all the idiotic things they did (read: throwing things and mock fights), I'm going to relate the one thing that made me laugh.

The room had this kind of a door handle/lock thingie:

There is a key that will keep the latch hidden so that the door can remain unlocked. I had the room unlocked. (My issues weren't in keeping kids out of the room.) But then it was time for snack, and before I left the empty room, I made sure it was locked.

When the latch popped out, I noticed a piece of scotch tape hanging below it. Upon further inspection, I saw that someone had put that piece of tape across the latch kind of like in movies when someone wants to make sure the latch won't engage (usually so the hero can sneak into the place after hours).

They used scotch tape.

No way that heavy duty latch could be held open with scotch tape.

They think they're clever. They don't realize how much they don't know. (I wish I could be there when they try to sneak in later. I would love to see how they react when they learn their scheme didn't work.)

On another note...

My contest ended Wednesday night. I got three entries. I don't want to decide amongst them, so I decided to award all three the prize. I'll be emailing you either today or tomorrow to work out details. (Briane: your profile doesn't link to your email, so I'll DM you on Twitter.)

A Missing Pencil

Sean brought up his textbook to show me a picture where the man looked like Bruce Willis. I laughed. Sean went back to his seat. 

Then Sean retraced his steps. He patted down his pockets. He looked under a couple desks. He accused another boy of having stolen his pencil. 

Me (without emotion): Did you steal his pencil? 

Student (to me): No. (To Sean): Racist. 

(Note: both boys were white.) 

Sean was starting to get frantic. I knew the pencil had to be somewhere. I asked if it had fallen into his backpack. Sean went to check. He scoured his desk, looked through the textbook and a notebook, and looked under his desk. Nothing.

Someone suggested that it was on the wall. So, Sean turned towards the wall and felt to see if someone had hidden it behind a paper. 

That's when I saw it. When Sean's back was turned, two girls gave each other a knowing smile. One passed something to the other, and both feigned innocence when Sean turned back around. 

I watched and waited. 

When Sean was again distracted, the pencil was passed farther along the back of the class. Sean caught on that the girls had something to do with the pencil's disappearance, but now the girls no longer had the pencil. Sean turned my way. 

I pointed towards where the pencil had been headed. 

The girl who had it at that point threw it across the room. Sean retrieved it, and then he went back to work. 

I suppose I should have been more upset. I would have been, but the class was doing the assignment. They even finished it. It was one of those mellow days where the students weren't that much trouble--at least when they weren't pranking each other. 

About a Cell Phone

New year, and nothing to say. What else is new?  

Several years ago, I started my blog on MySpace. After a few too many technical glitches, I moved my blog over here, but I didn't move the old posts. From time to time, I like to repost these old ones. I originally wrote this on January 23, 2007. 

Cell phones are not allowed at school. Well, technically they're allowed as long as they're put away. The actual rule states:

Students may not use or display cell phones during the regular school day... Cell phones must remain out of sight and powered 'OFF' throughout the school day. Failure to comply with any portion of this policy will result in immediate confiscation of the cell phone...

I don't generally make an issue of it unless they do. One time I was having a terrible time with this 5th period--they were turning off the lights after I told them not to (no windows--pitch black room), throwing things that hit me, and generally being as horrible as they could. Just as I almost got them settled, a cell phone rang. I confiscated it. It was the principle of the thing.

But that's an extreme case. Usually, someone has a phone out, and I remind them that visible or audible cell phones are fair game for confiscation, and the offending piece of equipment magically vanishes. Case closed. No sweat.

Today I covered a French class. They had crossword puzzles using food vocabulary (well, that was for French I; French II, III, & VI had other work). It was a pretty dry assignment, so they were talking as well. A typical day for me. And then the cell phone issue came up.

"Want to see my cell phone?" a student asked the class one student at a time. This "cell phone" got passed around the room. He called it a Blackberry, and other students marveled at its access--he had MySpace on it.

Of course I got a look at it. He had drawn a sort of phone looking thing on a fourth of a piece of paper. Freshmen!

Remember when Blackberries were the big thing? Remember when everyone was on MySpace? This wasn't that long ago, but in some ways it was.

Book Fake Out

Today I covered a graphic arts class. The teacher left them book work.

This is usual for shop-type classes. Because of the specialized equipment, teachers don't let the students do their usual projects when there's a sub supervising. (This class gets to do all the interesting arty stuff like silk screening t-shirts.) I wouldn't know what to look out for. Besides, when students have a sub, they can't be counted on to use their best judgment.

The students did not want to do the book work. But middle schoolers can't be trusted to do nothing all period, so I insisted.

I had the first group leave the books out on the students' tables. So, during 5th period when table 3 told me that they didn't have any books, I was momentarily thrown. Before I started to look around the room for some more books, however, I noticed that there was a stack of books...on the lap of one of the students.

Slick.

The rest of the table acted as if they were shocked. Yeah, I wasn't buying it.

What perplexes me is why. Did they think that if they didn't have books, I wouldn't make them do the assignment?

They probably weren't thinking that far ahead. If they had, they would have hidden the books better.

At least it made for an entertaining anecdote in my note to their teacher.

Slap-Ass Friday

I found this note attached to the top of today's lesson plan. The teacher wrote at the top, "I received this at the end of the day," so I knew it had to be important: 

Teachers, I have delightful news: tomorrow is Slap-Ass Friday!

Please discuss our discipline policies and procedures with your first and second period classes. Any students smacking other people's butts will receive an at-home suspension... 

No! Really? 

As requested, I delicately brought up the subject with first period. I so didn't want to say "slap-ass" to a room full of 8th graders. Luckily, I didn't have to. My allusions got that moniker out of them pretty quickly. Then...

"But it's tradition!" 

I swear, the girl who said that was serious. Tradition? I've been subbing for a while, and the last I heard of this "tradition" was last year, as in the first year it was tried.

I remember covering a 7th grade class. Some student said something about getting slapped by the 8th graders. I told the 7th graders that no 8th graders would hit them, and if they did, the 8th graders would be in serious trouble. As I heard nothing about anyone getting slapped, I figured that this rumor was a figment of the 7th graders' imagination.

I explained that SAP was not going to be tolerated. Then I moved on to the assignment for the day. Quickly. 8th graders can get hung up on the littlest things, and it would have been so easy to get stuck on this for the whole period and get nothing done.

I saw no instances of students slapping each other on the behind, so if they did occur, it was outside of class. The kids should have had enough excitement anyway. We had an assembly today. (Plus it rained. For about 5 minutes. That always gets them.)

These kids have such limited imaginations. I'm sure you can come up with a better "tradition". What is it? (Real or imagined. Actually, imagined might be better.)

During the Test

"This is an open book test."

Most of the students got up to get a book. Since notes were allowed as well, they got those out. I passed out the test, and they got to work.

I was back at the continuation high school today. English class. The test was on an excerpt from The Red Badge of Courage. Multiple choice.

It was about halfway through the period. Several students had finished. There was this one boy in the front far corner. He looked around.

"We can use our books?"

Way to pay attention, dude!

The Internet Is Not Working

I used to have a MySpace account. I started my blog there. But after I had a few too many technical difficulties, I moved the blog here. I have since closed the MySpace account. I hate to lose all of my blogs from that time, so from time to time I repost them here.  

This was originally posted May 7, 2007.  

Computer class. Continuation high school.

They were supposed to be working on their typing. For the most part they were. I'm not really talking about them anyway. I had two students from other classes come into 4th period to use the computers. They needed to look something up on the Internet. Sure, I said.

I probably should have mentioned that the Internet went down at the end of 3rd period. That would have been the right thing to do, don't you think?

Near the end of 3rd period the teacher from next door came in to ask if our Internet was down as well. It was. It wasn't something that bothered me too much. The students were supposed to be working on the typing program or Word. Having the Internet offline helped out immensely with this.

So, first the girl comes in to "get a picture". She turns on a computer. Waits for it to boot up. Logs on. (Understand, the log on takes a bit of time too.) Then tries the Internet. She tries a different computer. Then comes up to me to ask.

Yeah, I should have told her up front that the Internet was down. That would have been the nice thing to do. Though, honestly, I didn't even think of it. I must be tired.