Reruns

We're at that time of year. Last week I did not cover a class I had not covered before this school year. I kind of needed that after the prior week. 

On Monday I caught an assignment at the adult transition center for the teacher I've covered a couple times this year. While there, a job popped up for Tuesday. After snagging it, I explained to the instructional assistants in class that I knew exactly what was going to happen. 

Ms. S coteaches with Ms. W. Ms. W was going to ask me to swap jobs for the day. She'd teach Ms. S's eighth grade math classes while I'd take over her fifth period success class and her seventh period learning center. 

And when I arrived at school on Tuesday? Exactly what I said would happen happened. (Ms. W's success class is very different from Ms. T's. How? Special ed. Ms. W has a smaller class and an instructional aide. That does make a world of difference.)

There were a couple surprises as I ended up covering an extra period, but that was also in the learning center. The learning center is an extra room where special ed kiddos can take a test in a separate setting (for those that need that, specified in their IEP). It's basically a period of me sitting and watching an empty room (although that class had a study hall type class and a whole math class came in to take a test). 

Wednesday I covered an economics class I had covered earlier in the year. Thursday I covered a special ed co-teacher who I covered for a week in February (and worked with when I did that long term two years ago). And Friday I covered that Spanish class that had a student teacher. 

When I say the bad days balance out, this is what I mean. Two weeks ago: brutal. Last week: cake. 

The Conversation

Thursday. Eighth grade math, special day class. Eighth period. 

To start every class, Mr. R has them do "Good Things". This is special ed, so the classes are small, so each student gets a turn. 

When it was Alonzo's turn, all I heard was something about going on a cruise. Well, that's cool. Only, as Alonzo continued speaking, the explanation went into Hantavirus and something about bombing the ship... 

Eighth graders... 

We moved on from Alonzo and finished Good Things, but when it was time for them to start working on their math, Alonzo circled back to Hantavirus. 

He had all the questions. I have not been following the news. I heard part of a report in passing about a cruise ship and Hantavirus, and that's really all I know. I suppose I could have looked this up, but they had math to work on, and I wasn't in the mood to humor Alonzo with this random topic. 

Alonzo? He found other topics to discuss with his classmates. Because I was of a mind to, I listed as many of the topics as I could for their teacher as they happened. As the topic changed, I added to the list. The list wasn't exhaustive, though, as some things were said in passing that I felt didn't merit inclusion on the list, and some things I just didn't get. 

So, what do eighth grade boys discuss when they should be doing math? 

• Hantavirus: Alonzo really couldn't let this go.
• History class assignment roles: apparently their history teacher had assigned them roles for some Civil War project. One boy was a spy. One boy was a slave. And the third boy's role was kind of unclear. There was a long conversation about how they liked/did not like their roles and how things got assigned.
• McDonald's: this was a weird ramble about food that turned into some VR chat that was McDonald's based. I was again unclear on what exactly they were talking about. 
• Tigger: yes, the tiger in Winnie the Pooh. This was more a rhyming thing where they did go there (starts with N...), but they were also wondering if they got the correct name for the tiger in Winnie the Pooh. 
• TikTok Challenges: they went from Tide Pods to a bunch I'd never heard of. 
• Mall food: food is always a popular topic. It ended up being a thing about various things they could get, and then Alonzo said he could also get food when he went to the mall for something else. Somehow this segued into how Alonzo needed to go to the bookstore to pick up a new book coming out (the kiddos were amazingly well-read). 
• Fake dice: they acted like they were playing craps. Without dice. For about a minute. 
• "Why are you rubbing your belly?" He was not rubbing his belly. 
• Movies: Hoppers and Project Hail Mary. They liked both. 
• Someone started whistling.
• "Jesse called some girl 'slave'", which then turned into Alonzo saying that he could say all sorts of career-ruining things about Jesse. 
• Alonzo said that some teacher said that because he did something with his thumbs, that he was double jointed.
• Alonzo pulled out some money and a receipt he had. The receipt got passed around. The money was counted. (After they left, I found a nickel on the floor.) 
• Somehow the money led to them talking about various gum flavors. Mostly listing and stating whether they liked them.
• Video games: a brief mention of some games they liked.
• They circled back to Tigger and words that rhyme with it.
• Kool-Aid pickles: and then pickles in general. 
• Six... seven... Yes, sadly, that's still a thing, and it just pops up at random times.
• And then some sidetrack into Zuckerberg. Why? I have no idea.

So, you won't be surprised that I rated the class as "some made better use of their time than others" and that I doubted they had finished their assignments. Because, seriously? 

Broken Record, Student Edition

Wednesday. English 9, special day class (read: special ed). Fourth period.  

The lesson plans had all sorts of warnings about this class, including the note that this was her least favorite class. The instructional assistant went on to warn me that the half the kiddos just didn't care no matter what they did. So, I was prepared for the worst. 

And... things weren't that bad. They were doing a vocabulary assignment that went along with their reading of To Kill a Mockingbird, and then they could use that assignment on a quiz for the last couple chapters they read in class. 

Early in the period, Kaleb asked to use the restroom. He returned in a timely manner. 

About halfway through the period the instructional assistant left (as that was her usual quitting time). 

It was almost the end of the period, and Kaleb again asked to use the restroom. I said no. 

Kaleb was not pleased. He asked why he could not go. 

I explained that he had already gotten one restroom pass in the class, and getting one pass out of class was all he was going to get. Besides, there were only ten minutes left in the class period, and the school administration had instituted a rule that no students were to be allowed out of class for those last ten minutes. 

Kaleb did not see my point. One pass per period? That was unreasonable as far as he was concerned. 

So, he asked again. Could he go and use the restroom? And again, I said no. 

"But why?"

Me: "I already explained why." 

Kaleb argued that when he asked the first time there had been eleven minutes left of class. (According to the clock on my computer, it had been less than ten minutes.) But even he couldn't argue that since the first time he asked time had passed, and at this point there was definitely less than ten minutes left of class. 

Then, Kaleb: "Can I go to the restroom?" 

Again, I answered no. Again, Kaleb asked why. And again, I said that I had already explained. 

This time Kaleb offered that he would be able to get to the restroom and back before the end of the period. (Likely true, as the restroom was just steps away from the classroom.) I did not doubt him, but I did not give permission. 

It was now time for the class to start getting packed up, so I made that announcement. Kaleb? Asked to use the restroom again. And again, he asked why not?

Now the rest of the class was invested. They encouraged Kaleb to just walk out. If it was them, they would just walk out. (If it was them and earlier in the period, I would have let them go as they hadn't used their pass for the period.) Kaleb did not take the dare. 

Around we went again. Maybe twice? I lost count. Eventually, time ran out. The bell rang. And they all left. 

Deep sigh. I'm not sure why Kaleb thought that repeatedly asking me the same questions would get different results, but freshmen. Kaleb did not realize just how stubborn I can be when pushed. 

An Overlooked Detail

The very special ed class, Friday. 

The last time I subbed for Ms. H, the class was going on a field trip. This day, same. This time they were going to some event hosted by the LAUSD for their special ed classes. Something about a dance performance? 

Why was I needed? Some of the kiddos weren't going, so someone had to stay behind to supervise them. 

I had two students. And then a third joined us as her whole class was going as well as the teacher. (Why book two subs for two different teachers? I was sufficient to cover all the kiddos not going.) 

It was a fairly chill day. Alice was wheelchair bound and only spoke in grunts and cries. Nate arrived and put his head down on his desk and slept. Apparently, this was his usual. This was good as Alice does not like Nate. Nate has a tendency to (when awake) hover over Alice and bother her. (When Nate awoke near the end of the day, he hovered over me, and I had to make it very clear I did not want to be touched, and he still touched me.) 

Angela was from the other class. She took a seat and asked for paper so she could draw. 

I suggested a movie. Alice's one-to-one suggested Encanto. 

So, things were mellow. But then I noticed a problem. 

Ms. H's prep period was the last period of the day. Usually her students would join the other teachers' classes for the last period. But the other teachers were gone, too. What to do? 

I called Allie (the secretary I check in with). While I had looked forward to getting to leave early for the day, I was fine with staying and supervising the kiddos. But, I wasn't going to do it for free... 

Once I explained the situation to Allie, she readily agreed to credit me with the extra period. 

And so, once we finished Encanto, Angela suggested Lilo & Stitch (the original version). 

We were barely fifteen minutes into the last period when the field trippers returned. 

It had been a long bus ride. The kiddos had been outside. They'd been in the sun. They were wiped out. 

Which was fine. It wasn't like we were going to be doing work or anything. Movie and computer time. 

Some days, my job isn't much more than this. It balances out the more difficult days. 

Broken

It had been a pretty mellow Friday. I had special ed biology, and the kiddos were starting a project on genetic disorders. 

It was getting towards the end of the last period. I finished up my note to the teacher, and I sent it off. (I email my remarks nowadays.) I started to pack up my stuff. 

It wasn't quite time for the kiddos to pack up yet. I like to get ready early so than I can focus on making sure they clean up without worrying about my stuff. I had put away my computer, my pencil, and I was putting my water bottles back. I picked one up... 

...And crash... 

I heard something clatter all the way off the desk and onto the floor. 

My water bottle had hit a knickknack the teacher had on her desk. It was a big wooden S, part of her Ms. A tableau. 

A student came over and picked it up. It was in three pieces. 

He tried to make me feel better. He told me that one of her letters was already broken. But there was no way that letter stood up if it was already broken. 

Then it was time for the kiddos to get ready to leave, so I left the broken mess and tended to the finishing up of the period. The bell rang, and the kiddos left. 

I looked around for some glue. Found some Elmer's. It kind of stuck together? 

I left a note. I should probably find where these letters are sold and replace it. Stupid mistake. But it wasn't intentional. Sigh.

Observed

Thursday. Eighth grade math, special ed. Third period.

It was a complete-the-online-assignment day, and half the class said they were already done. (On a newly-assigned assignment? Not likely.) I noted who said they were done and left that information for the teacher. 

The phone rang. It was the health office letting me know they were sending over someone to observe the kiddo in the class who already had a one-to-one aide, but they didn't want the student to know. Something about a seizure disorder. 

I don't question when staff shows up in class. We have various observers for various things all the time. One day the new principal showed up while I was doing something with a class. I didn't know who he was or why he was there, but he was with another staff member I did know, so I kept doing what I was doing. Another time, the new district superintendent showed up in class. Again, she was with a staff member I did know. And again, I kept doing what I was doing until we had a moment to talk. 

So, when the staff member, who I did recognize from seeing around campus, showed up, I just kept doing what I was doing. (Read: watching the kiddos play games on their computers rather than do the assignment.) 

But, now there were two other adults watching one kiddo. And they questioned what he was supposed to be doing. So, he dutifully found the actual assignment. And then got stuck. 

Well, that part was my job. 

They were turning word problems into equations. It wasn't too hard, but the kiddos were having trouble deciphering whether they needed to add, subtract, multiply, or divide. 

The kiddo did not have any seizures while in class. (They don't usually.) But at least he got some math done. 

Out to Lunch

As I mentioned yesterday, Monday and Wednesday I was back at the adult transition center. It's been a while since I got to be there, so it was nice to see the school again. The students, however, are ones I met at the high schools now. The ones who were there when I was there for practically a school year have since aged out. 

On Monday we were supposed to go on Community Based Instruction, or CBI. Basically this means we leave school to go out to lunch. But, with the last minute call out of the teacher and with several of the students having not brought money, it had to be cancelled. Which was a disappointment as we were supposed to go out to celebrate the birthdays of two of the instructional assistants. (Yes, both of their birthdays were March 9th.) 

But Ms. J left us stuff to do, so we did that. 

Then I went back on Wednesday. And Ms. J told me they were going to go out to Chili's. So, I headed to the school, expecting us to go out for the day. 

But, of course, things did not go smoothly. 

First, a couple students hadn't brought money (even though this was their usual CBI day). Then, they thought about changing our destination, but we couldn't do that without principal approval (and she wasn't on campus at that moment). 

Eventually, it all got straightened out, and we headed out. To the bus stop. It wasn't a long distance, but we had a student in a wheelchair, and the bus was easier. Then we had a half hour to wait until the Chili's opened. We took over one whole section. 

I sat with two students. Josie had brought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She had money, but she didn't want to spend it on lunch. 

After we ate, we headed across the (busy) street to the Dollar Tree. There, Josie spent her money. On nail polish and lip balm. As one of the instructional assistants said she would. 

I mean, that's impressive. I would have wanted lunch. But no, Josie knew she'd rather have something else, so she made sure to bring other food from school so she wouldn't be tempted. 

Then to the bus and back to school. 

It's good practice for the students. And it was fun to get out again during the school day. It's been a while since I got to go out for CBI. 

Booking the Week

Monday morning, sometime after midnight, I finally caught an assignment for Monday. I had tried to grab a couple before this, but both informed me that another sub had taken the assignment when I clicked on the book button. So, I was just happy to be working. 

Monday is the late start day, so I was lazily on my phone as I had a whole half hour before I needed to leave when the sub desk called. Would I be willing to switch to the adult transition center? Well, sure. But that meant I had to leave... right then... and I wasn't dressed yet... 

I managed to make it, but just. 

The adult transition center is where the very special ed kiddos go after they age out of high school. I basically spent the 2021-22 school year there. So, while the students are different, I know the drill. (The teachers I covered at that time retired, hence why I ended up there, so there are new-to-me teachers there now.) 

Tuesday I didn't catch an assignment. Sigh. But Ms. J, from Monday, reached out to say she was going to be out again Wednesday, and I did I want to work? I managed to catch the assignment again. (Whew.) 

Turns out, Ms. J probably shouldn't have worked Tuesday. She's really sick. As is one of the instructional aides. As well as a couple students. What can I say? It's going around. 

Then, Wednesday night, Ms. J again asked if I could cover her again. I was totally willing, but I had an assignment for Thursday. Considering how I can try to book an assignment only to have another sub snatch it out from under me, I had concerns. Ms. J said she'd contact the school (who would then contact the sub desk who can just assign me). 

But Thursday...? Yeah, I ended up working the assignment I had previously booked. Hey, I was working that day. That's the important thing. 

This year it's been harder to book jobs. More subs, I think. Which means the schools have far fewer days where a teacher (or multiple teachers) don't have their very own subs. But it makes it harder for us subs to work every day. 

Scared of Girls

Friday. Tenth grade world history, special ed. Fifth period. 

Because it was a special ed class, I had an instructional assistant. Ms. M warned me about fifth period. Specifically, about the three boys on the baseball team. They would likely be late. Why? 

The classroom is located on the end of the building. There's an outer door that opens into a kind of foyer. If you head straight ahead, you find the classroom. Right next to the classroom, if you head to the left instead of straight, is the girls' restroom. (And next door to that is a locked faculty restroom. Very convenient.) 

These three boys... don't want to be seen near the girls' restroom. Or be seen by the girls in the restroom? The aversion is unclear. 

So, passing period. I prop open the classroom door to make sure the kiddos will enter (and not hover outside). Angelo and Kyson whooshed into the room, headed for the table next to the TV (if you look at the above photo, there's a standing desk to the right of the TV; that's where they were). They turned towards the whiteboard, and hid their faces. 

They would not be convinced to go to their seats, not until the door was closed. 

Deep sigh. 

The bell rang. I closed the door. And Angelo and Kyson took their seats. Soon thereafter, Noah whooshed into the room. He made sure that door closed behind him.

And... I... Huh? 

Ms. M made the comment, out of their hearing, that it wasn't like they had to go through the girls' restroom to get to the classroom. 

I am very familiar with this classroom. Exactly a year ago, I was doing a long term in this very classroom (for a vacant class). And I could not tell you what the girls' restroom looks like. I've never been in there. 

But for some reason, those boys (and only those boys) do not want to be seen by the girls. 

While the door was closed, Angelo, Kyson, and Noah were fine. Well, not "fine". Noah claimed he had already completed the day's new assignment (it had been posted first thing in the morning, so he could have accessed it in his previous classes), and so he spent the period moving about and getting his lunch (he had a baseball game later that day). 

The three boys were not well-behaved. 

About a half hour before the end of the period, Noah and Kyson had to leave for their game. They stood before the door, waiting for the minute they could go, but they opened the door just a crack. Just to look. 

They begged to leave early. Well, earlier. Nope. 

I guess they were trying to get out while the coast was clear. Of girls. 

The second they could go... whoosh. 

That's... that's a new one on me. Wow.

Sophomore Meltdown

Wednesday. Tenth grade English, special ed. Seventh period.

It's district writing assessment time, and that includes the special ed students. Ms. C gave me very specific instructions on what to do. 

Their routine is to grab a Chromebook, log in, and do a warmup. But we were switching things up so they'd have more time to write. As I got class started, I informed the class they wouldn't need their Chromebooks, so would they please put them back. 

Adrian was not pleased. While the rest of the class put their computers back and I passed out the packets they'd need for their writing, Adrian wailed. He did not want to give up his computer. 

Luckily (or maybe obviously), Adrian had a one-to-one aide. Mr. J went over to Adrian and pointed out that Adrian was disrupting the class. Adrian needed to put his Chromebook back. 

Adrian? Laid on the floor. Wailing. 

One is not often treated to a fifteen-year-old throwing a toddler temper tantrum. At least he wasn't flailing his limbs and screaming. 

While the rest of the class looked on, Mr. J calmly pointed out that Adrian was disrupting the class, and maybe Adrian needed to take a little walk to calm down. Adrian didn't like that idea. He didn't want to be in trouble. And somehow that got Adrian off the floor. He put away his computer. And we continued class. 

Of course Adrian complained about the essay. And the topic. (They had an argumentative essay. Topic: the space program--continued funding, yea or nay.) And he objected to how they spelled "center" in the articles they were to use as their sources. (Apparently Adrian is obsessed with English spelling and said it should be "centre". Well, if he wants English spellings, fine.) 

Did Adrian finish the essay? Nope. But he did actually write something. So, that's a win. 

Teacher Fail

Friday. First period. Learning center. 

I got a call from the other learning center. Would it be okay if they sent someone over for me to assist? Um, sure... 

The student had homework to complete. Integrated math three (read: algebra 2/junior math). The problems: logarithms. 

Uh oh... 

Okay, so I've had all the math. I took three semesters of calculus in college. I even took senior level math classes in applied analysis. You can throw most math topics at me, and I have at least a basic working knowledge of it.

But not logarithms. 

They didn't bother with logs in my high school. (I think that's pretty much what all the schools did at the time.) We did natural logs and the e function, but that's as far as it went. 

But, pretty decent working knowledge of math, so I can fake it pretty well. Where were the student's notes? Uh, yeah, no notes. 

Deep sigh. 

Third period, IM3. Ms. B went over their homework, the homework I couldn't help the kiddo with. And, after her brief explanation... 

Yeah, if only I had had third period before first period. Because after seeing the example, yeah, I totally could have done those problems. 

Because if the kiddo had had the notes so I could transform the problems, I knew how to solve once the logarithm was handled. 

The one topic I couldn't help with. Naturally. Sigh. 

Missed Lesson Plans

Last week I caught a four-day assignment for Ms. L, who I worked with two years ago when Mr. J was on his paternity leave. I knew who she co-taught with, and I had a vague idea of her schedule. So, when I arrived at school on Tuesday, I headed directly for the learning center. 

The class was "study skills" which is code for study hall. As it was the first day back after a four-day weekend, I was not surprised when the kiddos didn't have anything to work on. 

I hovered a little, but I pretty much left them to it. It wasn't like they kept track of what they did or anything... 

Um, well... 

Every teacher has a "home base". For most teachers, that's their classroom. They keep all their stuff in there. For the special ed co-teachers there are desks that are in the two learning centers. Ms. L's desk is in the other learning center. (I thought it odd she taught classes in the learning center where her desk wasn't, but scheduling issues.) 

Ms. L's desk is in the learning center next door to Mr. J's classroom. So, on my way to that period, I breezed by, just to make sure she had left no lesson plans on her desk (as she hadn't the last time I covered her classes). Alas... 

Yeah, Ms. L had left lesson plans. And I had been supposed to give the first class a paper to note what they got accomplished in class. 

Oops. 

Well, I wasn't going to make that mistake again, and I did have three more days of the class. 

In my defense, the special ed co-teachers don't usually leave lesson plans. We're just assisting the general ed teachers in the classes we go to. And her desk was on the other side of campus. 

(I'm exaggerating. A bit. It was out of the way, but it wasn't a terrible distance.) 

At least I took roll. 

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. 

All Excuses

Friday. Period three, study skills.

Study skills is just a fancy way of saying study hall. I mean, technically the teacher is supposed to have curriculum that teaches skills for studying, but most of the kiddos who really want that are in AVID or success. (Or even if they don't but have someone urging them in that direction.) Study skills is the special ed equivalent, and most of the time, the teacher gives them time to work on missing assignments. 

This is a very long-winded way of saying that I had a class that had nothing to do. They were allowed to be on their phones once they were done with all their work. They were done with all their work. 

Except...

I had an instructional assistant, and she warned me of Nick. In semester one, Nick had claimed that he was doing all his work and he had no homework. Alas, his semester grades showed these claims to be lies. Miss B no longer trusted him. 

Miss B then told me that Nick would have many excuses. His work would be on paper, but the paper would be at home. And as it was homework, he'd do it at home. 

Nick arrived. Miss B asked him what he had to work on. He told her he didn't have anything. But Miss B wasn't having that.

It came out that Nick had some maps to complete for his history class, but he had left the papers at home. Miss B sent him to his teacher to get another copy. Upon his return, Miss B sent him to his math teacher to get work from her. 

And then, while he was out, I got a call from the speech therapist. Nick was needed for speech therapy. 

Naturally. 

Miss B set up his computer so the map he'd need was on the screen. She made sure he had everything he needed to complete his work. And when he returned, he did work. Kind of. 

I looked down at his map of the Middle East, and on the Arabian Peninsula he had written "France". He did get Africa and Asia in the right places, though. (My knowledge of geography is pretty terrible, but I can locate France.) 

When I pointed out where various of the list of places he needed to label were, he immediately wrote those down. But he was slow walking the looking up and figuring out where the places were on his own. I wasn't going to do it for him, so I walked away.

If you want to get something done, you find a way. If you don't, you find an excuse. Nick was all about the excuses. Sigh. 

One would hope that at some point he'll want good grades. Until then, he's going to fight us about doing his work. 

He's young. He may grow out of it. 

Easy Tipping

After winter break, I covered three days in a mod to severe special ed class. (Read: high school aged kiddos who read at an elementary school level.) For the last period of the day, they worked on "life skills". 

The students all had workbooks. Some were working on things like street signs and writing out their home address. I ended up sitting between two girls who were working on activities related to dining out. 

I was later told that Audrey was very anxious and needed lots of assurances. She started with a page that showed various steps in ordering food via phone app, and she had to put the steps in order. Which she did, fairly easily (once I confirmed that she was, in fact, doing it correctly). 

Then we moved on to tipping. 

Explaining how to figure out the tip on a restaurant bill is a challenge even with general ed students. (Everyone hates percentages.) With these special ed students? But I dug in and was ready to work it step-by-step with her.

(And yes, there are shortcuts that are easier in the actual restaurant. And yes, most places now print how much a tip could be on the receipt. Or, it'll automatically add it if you're paying via kiosk. But when it's an actual lesson in an actual workbook, working the actual steps is expected.) 

But then Ms. S, one of the instructional assistants, pulled out her phone. There was an app for that. 

(If you click on the link, the screenshots show just how easy the thing is.)

Oh my. So, so, so much easier. 

Audrey understood what we were doing. Fiddling with the math was the challenge. But the app? She easily could input the total of the bill, slide the percentage to what it needed to be, and have the tip right there. 

This is what we talk about when we talk about accommodations. The student can understand what needs to be done. They just have issues working through the steps to get it done. Take away the fiddly bits, and they can exist in general spaces just fine. 

Audrey needed just a little guidance, and then she was calculating the tips all on her own. 

Phew. That could have been a way harder activity. 

(And if you need such an app, now you know it exists.) 

Describing the Gifts

Winter break vacation over, and I caught a special ed job. You know, in one of those classes. For three days. 

Actually, things went pretty smoothly. Most of the class had one-to-one aides, and the teacher had clear routines in place. 

Third period, Tuesday. The class had a standing lesson with the speech therapist. As it was the first day back after the break (they had a professional development day on Monday, so no students), the speech therapist did an activity about the break. 

She asked them what they got for Christmas, but they couldn't just tell her. They had to give two hints, and the others were to guess what it was. As an example, the speech therapist said, "I got something that I wear on my feet and it has three white lines on it." 

They easily identified the gift as Adidas sneakers. 

She demonstrated with a couple other of her gifts. Then she left them to figure out how to hint about what they got for Christmas. 

The activity went fairly well. Most of the students got right to work and were able to hint about their gifts. Mostly, I was asked how to spell things. 

Calvin, who likes to smudge his work after he completes it, was having a time writing anything down. His one-to-one aide was trying to assist. He asked Calvin what he got for Christmas. Calvin said he got a violin. 

A violin???

That seemed odd. But then the next day I learned he was in a strings music class, and suddenly a violin made more sense. 

They finished up the lesson with the speech therapist having them read out what they wrote and having the class guess what they got. 

You'd think a speech therapy class would be more about having them work on how they talk. At least, that's what I assumed when I first heard of it. But no. It's more of them discussing things. Whatever works, right? 

And now I have an interesting activity I can apply if I ever have need of it. (I love watching others work. I steal liberally from them.) 

Surprise Fire Drill

Wednesday. Economics, special ed. First period. 

This was Mr. B's class, a class I'd done a long-term stint in two years ago when Mr. B was out recovering from surgery. So, I wasn't terribly surprised to find no written plans, only an agenda on the board along with three folders each labeled with a class period. 

The agenda on the board said finals. I assumed the work in the folders were their finals. Okay, then.

Class started. I passed out the finals. I recognized about half the students as ones who had been in the special ed class I covered long term this past February/March. 

They got to work. 

A half hour later, the fire alarm went off. It was not until that moment that I recalled that there was a fire drill scheduled. I had seen the reminder email the previous week and promptly forgotten about it. 

(Usually, the front office informs subs of drills when we check in. And usually the teacher makes mention of it in the lesson plans. Neither of which happened on this day.) 

So, I announced that it was a fire drill. They needed to leave their work and evacuate. 

And that's when a student, Edgar, grabbed the signage we use for fire drills and asked where the emergency backpack was. He led us to where we were supposed to line up, and he held out the green sign (for "everyone's present, no issues") once I informed him that I had accounted for all the students in the class (all seven of them). 

Well, that was painless. 

I hate fire drills. Besides being an interruption, usually it's a matter of corralling students and dealing with the crazy that the interruption starts. This time? None of that. 

We got back to the classroom, and they went back to work. (They all managed to finish the final before the end of the period.)

If only every fire drill I have to do goes like that, I wouldn't hate them so much. Very nice. 

Check Writing

(A very rainy) Friday. Sixth period. Special ed business math. 

They're seniors, and a couple of them had been in that weird long term special ed I covered in February/March. They did their warm up, and then I explained that they had a check writing test. 

"Check writing? This is a math class."

Once I passed the paper out, it made sense. They were balancing a check register, and then they had one bank check to fill out. They're doing a unit on banking.

After that, they watched some videos on savings accounts. These were each about five minutes long, and they talked about IRAs, mutual funds, bonds, and retirement. (It's an interesting series on PBS: Two Cents.)

It's cool when I'm in a class where they're doing something that I know they'll need in the future. They might not actually write checks, but the will need to know how to keep track of the money in their bank accounts. 

Easy class. Easy day.

(Last week was only a three-day week due to the holiday. That means it was kind of slim pickings for blog fodder.) 

Not Seeking Help

Wednesday. Seventh grade English, special ed. 

A couple of the students had to finish their district writing assessment. The rest had a grammar packet to work on. 

I had been warned that the class could be "chatty". Most days that's not a big deal, but the students who still had to finish their writing assessment needed a quiet room. Luckily, I had an instructional aide who knew the kiddos and was able to call them out when they wouldn't settle. 

But seventh graders. 

Mostly the room was calm. But then Dante started talking to his neighbor Garfield. Not loudly, but it was distracting enough. So, I meandered over there. 

I stood between Dante and Garfield. Hovering. Dante looked up at me. And asked me a question. About the assignment. He was stuck. 

Okay, then. That's something I can help with. 

I answered Dante's question. I helped him enough so that he could continue on with the assignment. I went back to the teacher's desk. 

A few minutes later Dante's talking again. Again, I meandered over. And again, it turned out that Dante was stuck. 

By the third time I asked Dante why he didn't just raise his hand to ask for help, rather than turning to his neighbor. (They were not discussing the assignment. The energy of the conversation was playing, not academic.) Dante replied that he thought that if he contemplated the question enough, he could figure it out. 

Well, clearly not. Clearly when he got stuck, he distracted himself with talking to his neighbor. 

This is not unusual. Nowadays, kiddos rarely raise their hands. They rarely ask for help. Unless I'm standing there. If I'm in front of them, they'll take that opportunity to ask a question. But they won't seek me out if they're stuck. They'll stay stuck. 

I'm not sure why this is. But it's something I can work with. 

Old Broken Technology

In February, I took a long term gig covering a class that had lost its teacher at the semester. It was a mad scramble. 

At that time, the library was clearing out its old technology. They were throwing out all their old DVD players as most teachers now stream video to their big TVs or have the kiddos watch things on their Chromebooks. The aide for the class snagged one of those DVD players and left it for the classroom. 

At no point did we ever use that DVD player. 

Wednesday. Freshman math, special ed. 

New teacher, but familiar classroom. Mr. R arrived, admitting that he had forgotten he was out of class, so his lesson plan was kind of thrown together. The kiddos had a couple worksheets, and then they could watch a video. (He left three choices.) That DVD player, that Ms. S acquired in February was connected to the TV. 

We got through the worksheets and "Good Things". (Every day they do a thing where the kiddos talk about one good thing in their lives.) And then it was time to watch the movie. I let the kiddos pick which one, and I went to start the DVD player...

Only it wasn't plugged into the wall. We searched for an extension cord... 

I turned on the player, put the DVD in, but the TV wasn't getting a signal. I switched out the cable. Nothing. I tried a few other fixes. Again, nothing. 

I grabbed a Chromebook, figuring I could stream the movie. Only, the Chromebook didn't have a spot to plug in the HDMI cable to plug into the TV. 

Finally, after a good half hour of troubleshooting, I cast the Chromebook to the TV. Only, the picture worked, but the sound did not. Sigh. (The sound worked from the Chromebook, so I turned that up as high as it would go.)

For the next class, the aide called a neighbor teacher who is tech savvy to see if she could figure out the problem. She plugged in a different DVD player... and that worked. (Well, the drawer for the DVD wouldn't open, but the TV got a signal from the DVD player.) 

So, the DVD player, that Ms. S "rescued" from being thrown out, didn't work. Sigh. 

If only Mr. R had tested the thing before setting that as the lesson plan...