Not my First Rodeo

The other day as I was clearing out some old papers, I found some blog posts that I'd never posted. I wrote them down with the intent of putting them on the blog, but then... I suppose something more interesting happened that week. That's my only guess. 

I remember being very annoyed with this boy. But somehow the act of writing this out dispelled much of my anger. I can't tell you when this happened, but it was at least two years ago. 

"Remember me? I was in the first class you ever subbed."

Me: "Really? You were in the 11th grade history class at [different high school] in [different city which is two hours away]?"

"No, I was in the first class you subbed here."

I made some joke about how he'd been in high school an awfully long time.

I've been subbing a while. At least since before he was in school. The first class I ever subbed at his school... There are teachers teaching at his school that were students in classes I covered.

(Truth is, I don't remember my first class at his school. I'll have to check my records. But those students? They're in their 30s now.

I do remember a student from my first year subbing. He was a basketball star. Everyone said he'd go to the NBA. He did. Not a superstar, though. Although, a student from a couple years later made it to the World Series. You would know his name.)

How he figured that the first time he encountered me was the first time I'd ever subbed... I have no idea how kiddos get these notions.

The Old in Coffee

It's time for a dive back into the way-back files. This post originally appeared December 8, 2009. 

12th grade AP English. They were working on some essay or other (I didn't have a lot of details, but they were AP kids and could be trusted to do their work without me having to prompt them). They were half working, half talking about random stuff.

One student started talking about coffee. He asked what people put in it. One of the girls mentioned cream and sugar. The boy said that no, that's what kids put in it. Adults put old in it.

That's not a typo. He said "old".

He continued with this reasoning. He said that coffee makes kids old. One girl complained that she drank coffee, but she wasn't old. The boy said that she might be 17, but the coffee made her older.

So, I asked what about older adults who did not drink coffee. He said that they just age normally, not extra aged because of the old in coffee.

It made only a smidgen of sense. Of course that was the point.

The stuff these kids come up with!

The Stomach Ache

Winter break is over, but I didn't work last week, so this week's posts are from before the break.

"My stomach hurts." Russell said this while munching on a bag of Hot Cheetos.

"Those aren't going to help," I said.

Mitchell chimed in, "You don't know that. He could be hungry."

"But when you're hungry, you say you're hungry. Hunger is a specific kind of stomach pain. If you say your stomach hurts..."

They weren't listening. Both argued over me. Russell didn't care. His argument had something to do with him having the snack meant he had to eat the snack. And Mitchell seemed to think that pain = hunger.

Russell asked to return to the health office. He had been there the prior period, but as his grandmother wouldn't come and pick him up, they sent him back to class.

There's a procedure to these things. For general malaise, the health clerk lets the student lie down for twenty minutes. Depending on the severity of the ailment, the clerk may call the student's parent(s) to pick the kiddo up. If the student feels better after the twenty minutes, they go back to class. Or, if someone won't pick the kiddo up. If a parent will pick the kiddo up, they are released for the day.

As Russell headed to the health office, he had switched to eating Funyuns. (He had finished the bag of Hot Cheetos.)

About a half hour later, Russell returned. His father wouldn't come to pick him up.

He admitted the Funyuns might not have been a good idea... as he continued to consume them.

On the bright side, he did not vomit in class. But, alas, he didn't grasp the concept that eating junk wasn't going to help the situation, especially as he was going to have to finish the school day.

(He said his mother lived at least an hour away, so he was out of options as to having someone pick him up. And students can't be released from school on their own. So, unless things got serious enough to call an ambulance, he was going to remain at school until the final dismissal bell.)

Bad Choices

We are currently on winter break. But I had a few left over posts from the last couple weeks, so I thought I'd share.

"Martin, don't stick a fork in the outlet."

Martin: "It wasn't a fork. It was a pair of scissors."

Biology. Mostly students who do their work. But Mr. V had warned me that his fifth period was "special". The last time he had had a sub, the scissors incident happened.

The rest of the class had a vested interest in Martin being a good citizen. Apparently the consequences of his deed were shared by the class in general.

Martin, wisely, chose to sit in the middle of the room, away from the walls and outlets.

It was while walking the room that I got a chance to check in with Martin. He wanted me to know that he hadn't stuck the scissors in the outlet. He just stuck them around the outside.

When I questioned him as to why, he told me he had been bored.

Bored? He had an assignment.

This is when he admitted to having a 36% in the class. He turned in no work. (That he isn't at a full zero is all due to classroom participation points.)

Martin lamented that he'd have to take summer school to make up for the semester. It's a four-hour class. He's not looking forward to it.

I can't help but think he probably should have considered this way earlier in the semester. And perhaps, I don't know, actually do and turn in his classwork. Perhaps then he wouldn't be so bored that he'd entertain himself by sticking a pair of scissors in an electrical outlet (or around the outside--whatever).

Planning a Tattoo

"I'm about to get my tattoo. I'm going to get my mom's name."

I usually don't engage the students on the topic of tattoos. But this statement was directed at the student teacher, and he was more than happy to question why the student would need his mother's name on his arm.

"Do you think you're going to forget it?" the student teacher asked.

The student explained it was his mom, the most important woman in his life, the woman who gave him life, and so he should honor her.

"But she's going to be so mad."

That's when it came out that his mother wasn't keen on the idea of her teen son getting a tattoo.

The student teacher then questioned the boy on his age. Wasn't he 17? Yeah, he was getting the tattoo for his 17th birthday.

Then how was he getting permission to get the tattoo?

Turns out, his father was giving him his official permission. (A signature is required somewhere, I'm sure.)

"So... For your first tattoo, you're going to get the name of the person who does not want you to get a tattoo?"

It's nice to have another adult in the room, especially when he says the things I'm thinking.

Ah, teens.

Choosing the Late

Friday. It was almost 5th period. 10th grade world history.

It had been an easy day thus far. The classes had worked silently without my having to ask. As the class filtered in, one of the boys started yelling towards someone outside the room.

"Where is he going?"

When I asked the obvious question, the boy pointed out who he was yelling to. I spotted him. He was walking away from the classroom. The first boy explained that the boy outside was supposed to be in their class.

Half an hour into class, the boy showed up. He had a pass from the tardy sweep. (Long time readers of this blog may remember me mentioning tardy sweep on previous occasions.)

This year, that school has revamped the tardy sweep policy. Instead of students being kept out of class all period, they now get sent back to class with a tardy sweep pass. They still get dinged for the tardy, and the more tardies they rack up, the harsher the punishment. (Three tardies and they get Saturday School.)

So, the boy, who totally would have been on time to class, decided to walk in the other direction, get the tardy, and get sent back to class... Why?

I don't get the logic sometimes.

Misnamed

"I'm Hannah."

"I'm Kyle."

"I'm Andrew. What's your name?"

It was passing period. As the students trickled in to their math class in the fourth week of school, my attention was caught by this exchange. When the kiddos noticed my interest, they explained.

"There's this kid who doesn't know anyone's name, so he just uses any name," via "Hannah".

And, apparently, they've adapted themselves to this.

"Kyle" did kind of look like a Kyle. (If this post was about him, that'd be a possible pseudonym for him, since I always change student names.) "Hannah", however, did not. When pressed, I couldn't tell her what name she did look like, only that it wasn't a Hannah.

Meanwhile, I'm so careful to use their correct names...

Bargaining for Five Stars

The conversation from yesterday's post did not quite end there...

Eventually, the girl let the listening to music issue go. Primarily because others in the class urged her to. I wasn't really paying attention at that point. But something one of the boys said perked my ears right up.

The boy informed the girl that I do, indeed, leave notes for the teacher. And they are detailed notes.

After some prompting, he informed me that he had been in the class I covered the previous day. Algebra 2.

You may have noticed that I have not posted a story about them. It's because I had no good stories about them. How can I possibly make a story about a class that worked silently without me having to do anything besides pass out the assignment interesting?

So, I didn't think my note to the previous day's teacher was all that detailed. What more was there to say other than the classes did what they were supposed to do?

The boy told me that Ms. C had gone over my remarks. He explained to the girl that I gave the classes a rating.

The girl now wanted to know what sort of rating her class would get. I looked around the room. They all appeared to be on task. (They were doing a timeline of World War II.) They were talking, but I hadn't asked for silence. So, I told her they'd get a 4 out of a possible 5.

The girl felt they should get a 5. I explained that 5s are earned for silent classes. But as I hadn't asked for silence, they wouldn't be in trouble for a 4. She countered that since I hadn't asked for silence and they were all on task, they should get the top score.

I wonder what line of work she's going to go into. Because she certainly argued well.

Not that I gave the class a 5. Each number means something, a something that I include with my note. But she was entertaining.

Generous with Someone Else's Gum

It was the Friday before the Thanksgiving break, and I had an 8th grade science class to boot. Ugh, right? Well, no. Actually not.

Surprisingly, they were pretty good. Talking. But on task. It was one of those days where I didn't have too much to worry about.

Fourth period, a boy got up and started distributing sticks of gum to half the class. As they were not supposed to be eating or chewing gum in class, I warned them all to not open them and start chewing right then. But I thought nothing much of it. The class was working pretty well, and the gum distribution didn't distract the class.

Fifteen minutes later, Renee returned.

Renee had been summoned by someone (I don't pay much attention to too many details when the office calls for a student) for something. She looked at the two boys across from her and demanded her gum back.

Uh oh...

The boys denied having her gum. Well, at that point it was true. (The boy had tossed the empty gum packet.)

Yeah, I wasn't about to let that pass. I told Renee what had happened to her gum. And she was not pleased.

Again, this could have gone really, really badly. Instead, they debated the flavor of the gum. (It was mint. The boys seemed to think it was peppermint.) And Renee insisted that the boys replace the gum. Which they sort of, kind of, hinted that they might just remember to do someday.

Deep sigh.

So, that incident went into the note to the teacher. Because Renee's going to need backup if the boys then try to claim that they don't owe her a pack of gum.

No Time to Goof Off

9th grade English. Their assignment was to complete the final draft of some culture essay. They had their graded rough drafts. They had writers' folders. And they had the whole period in which to complete it.

The lesson plan warned that I was to collect all final drafts at the end of the period no matter how much they might whine about it. So, I clamped down on them early. I warned them that they had the period and only the period, and once they knew I meant business, the room settled to a comfortable working silence.

I took a seat at the front of the room. I looked out at all the busily working freshmen. Only Juan stared back.

So, I watched him. Usually, my undivided attention is enough to get a student to look back down at his desk and to the work that he should be doing. But not Juan. Juan watched me back.

He had way too much time. I went over to investigate.

Juan was drawing circles on his writer's folder. No rough draft was visible. He had no paper nor was he working on something that looked like a final draft of what I assume was an essay worth a bunch of points. So, I asked him about it.

Juan explained that his rough draft was missing. He took it home and threw it out or misplaced it in his backpack or something. So, instead of panic, trying to reconstruct it, or finding something else to do, Juan was watching me and looking like he had all the time in the world to goof off.

I have a feeling I should get to know Juan so he'll be easier to handle when he gets to the continuation high school.

I did make sure to note his lack of work in my note.

All Alone

ELD. English Language Development. So, while they spoke English, they weren't fluent. This was the advanced group.

They had two worksheets. One of them asked them to write a story. The prompt asked them to imagine that they had a time machine and that they could go to any time past or future. When would they go? What would they do? Etc.

One boy was incensed by the question. Time travel is not possible, he explained. I agreed, but explained that this was a story, and he could make things up.

But he wasn't having it. It took a bit for me to get what was bothering him, but eventually I got the gist of what he was saying.

He could imagine someone building a machine that could take someone back in time. But, he argued, once you got there, you'd be all alone. Because the people in the past are now dead, so they wouldn't be there when you got there. Because they are now dead.

It's an interesting theory. One I haven't seen in any of the time travel theories before.

I, of course, argued that if you go back in time, you're going to the time when those people would have been alive. But he wasn't having it. He insisted that if you went back in time, you'd find empty cities.

Of course, he was all about how the Illuminati are real and various other conspiracy theories too. Not that one has to do with the other.

Sometimes I'm amazed at how their minds work.

Admitting the Ploy

Campus security walked into the classroom. He had a stack of Saturday School slips.

Saturday School is a 4-hour Saturday detention. Various infractions merit this punishment such as unexcused absences, missing previous detentions, and the usual things teens get punished for.

Security called up various students. As he did that, Aaron got my attention. He mouthed, "I'm not here." So, naturally, when security called his name, I pointed him out.

Reluctantly, Aaron came up to retrieve his slip. On the way back to his desk, he threw the slip in the trash.

Yeah, I've never seen that one before (insert sarcasm font here).

After security left (after distributing five slips), Aaron explained just how he was going to get out of going to Saturday School. When he got the slip, he was directed to a list which he was to sign to acknowledge receipt of the slip. He didn't sign.

His reasoning: no one can prove he got the slip.

Which might be true. Except we saw him get the slip. And he just admitted to the adult in the room what he had done.

Aaron's not as smart as he thinks he is. If he'd said nothing, I'd have thought nothing of it. (The slip in the trash means nothing. Most of the students know when and where to report.) But by admitting this, I know that I should at least mention this in the note to his teacher.

I don't know what he gets out of this little deception, anyway. He's eventually going to have to serve the detention. If he doesn't, the punishments get harsher.

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

Do you think he got away with it? Did you ever try to get out of a detention?

Nap Time

It was one of those lovely days where the math class had quiz. I gave the class my usual warning at the outset. This consists of me explaining that I will have silence for the duration of the quiz. If any students finish early, they are to do something quietly at their desks until all quizzes are complete.

The quiz went fairly normally. When one girl who sat in the back finished, she asked me if she could now take a nap. As this is a quiet activity, I told her she could.

I didn't understand why she felt the need to stand up, but before I could investigate, I got sidetracked by another student issue. Once I was back to monitoring the whole class, I was back to shushing whisperers. Then someone pointed out the girl.

She had stretched out on the floor at the back of the room.

First, ick. I know the janitors occasionally vacuum, but I wouldn't voluntarily lie down on the floor. Second, the floor? Really?

Students ask if they can nap all the time. If they have work to do, the answer is no. But after a quiz, I don't have a problem with them putting their heads down on their desks. I repeat: putting their heads down on their desks.

Why would a student lie down on the floor?

She couldn't understand why I would have a problem with this. I had said she could nap.

Note to self: when asked if a student can nap after a quiz, tell student he/she can put head down on desk.

The freshmen are really strange this year. I think I need a new tag.

Student Commerce

A student walked into 6th period carrying a guitar case. He asked me where he could set the thing during class.

(The students don't have lockers, so many carry around their gym bags or musical instruments as well as their backpacks. A student carrying a guitar is so normal that it normally wouldn't even merit a remark.)

I pointed to a spot at the front of the room. Then I wondered...

"What do you normally do with it?"

Student: "I've never had it before..."

I was getting ready to ask him what he'd been doing in a guitar class without a guitar all this time, but he continued before I could voice the thought.

"...It's not mine. I'm holding it for someone."

Me: "Why?"

Student: "He paid me a dollar."

Me: "That's the going rate?"

Student: "I was hungry, so I used it to buy some chips. I was considering selling [the guitar that isn't his], but then..."

(The rest of the conversation veered off course, and I was no longer sure if he was referencing the guitar, his friend, the chips, or... Well, he's a freshman, so who knows what he was talking about.)

Hiding the Assignment

Last week was the last week of school at the continuation high school. (The other schools have two more days this week. Not sure why they did that...) Those that were graduating no longer had to attend. Those that weren't just kind of hung on for the remaining days.

The students all had things to do. They were supposed to be doing lessons on the computers. Some were. But many were just there. And they had computer access.

Yeah, so many were playing computer games.

I would walk the room, stopping behind those that weren't on task. Tsking them for not being on task. Some had the decency to pretend to work as I'd approach, but not as many as other times in the year.

I approached one boy. Playing game. Not bothering to hide it. I asked him what he should be doing. He informed me that he was working on his assignment. He was just taking a short break.

I scanned the tabs at the top of the screen. I looked at the little boxes along the task bar. There was no indication of the program that should have been open. I pointed this out to him.

He explained that he had hidden the program. There was something new that could hide things from the task bar so that nosy subs wouldn't see what the student was actually doing.

Um, okay. I know I look along the task bar to see what the student has open that he shouldn't have open. But why would he hide the thing that he was supposed to be doing? Shouldn't he hide the game?

I asked him this. He didn't have an explanation.

If only they spent that time and creative energy on their work, they might have been among the graduates last week. Sigh.

Makeup for the Arms

"Are you crying?"

I sat in the front of the room, my hands covering my nose and mouth. My shoulders shook. Interesting how that's where her mind automatically went.

"No. I'm laughing."

I indicated the group on the other side of the aisle.

What drew my attention was a strange statement: "You put on makeup every day and wash it off every night. Your parents must be shocked!"

Note: This was a high school class. Mostly juniors and seniors. So, girls wearing makeup--kinda normal.

After about a minute of my attention, I got the gist of the conversation.

The boy was planning on writing on his arms. In his mind: washable markers=makeup. The girls disagreed.

And I thought the whole conversation ridiculous. Or totally brilliant.

What some students do rather than the assignment...

I'm In

I went and done it. I signed up for...


I sat back and watched it last year. My reasons for not jumping in... Well, I'm not much of a joiner, really. But it seems like everyone did it last year, and I spent all of April thinking, "What would I post today if I was doing the A to Z challenge?"

Last May, I started a plan. I set that plan aside and got on with the year. Then when January hit, I went looking for that plan... (I hid it from myself really well. I put it in the most obvious spot, but it took me 20 minutes of tearing everything apart before I remembered I left it in that obvious spot.)

Anyway, I dusted the plan off, and I thought, "Why not?"

Basically, nothing too unusual is going to happen around here. I'm going to go for business as usual, only using the correct letter for the day. Somehow, I'm going to keep up with my Thursday "What Ifs?" And I'll have to figure out what to do on Saturdays.

I'm number 525 on the list. (Yikes, everyone is doing it.) Are you?

Iteration of the Grandfather Paradox

A student wanted to ask me a hypothetical question. Well, I'm game.

"Assume that someone invented a time machine. Then I go back in time and kill him before he has a chance to invent the time machine. Did I go back in time?"

I'm well-versed in science fiction tropes. So, I went with the parallel universes response--the universe created by killing the time machine inventor would be different than the one the student originated from.

This was not the response the student wanted. Apparently, she'd been asking various friends this, convinced that the only solution was that then she never would have gone back in time. The friends found my answer amusing, saying that I'd "schooled" her.

I hadn't intended to shame her or "school" her. She asked a question that I had an answer to.

So, I introduced her to the grandfather paradox. It was pretty much what she had come up with, just in a slightly different form. And that one blew her mind as well.

Deep thoughts are good things. (Even if it was a history class, and this was not history.) I posed some other questions that were just as mind twisting, and we got into an interesting discussion about physics and science and science fiction and...

BOOM!

We both jumped when the student's shoe hit the ceiling. What he was doing that made it fly off his foot...

So, back to work. I glared at that boy. Asked him what the blank? (I was good. I didn't swear.) He was more chagrined than anything. He didn't expect the shoe to do that. (Although what he was doing that made this possible didn't seem to be an issue to him.)

Sigh.

The class got back to the study guide that they were working on. And another student asked me if I watch Doctor Who. Well, as a matter of fact...

Missing the Point

Last Tuesday I covered an English class at the continuation high school. They had a worksheet on commas.

I stood at the front of the room. Two students had various questions, so I helped them a bit. Then I tried to convince the other students to do the assignment.

There was a group of them that all had copies of their transcripts. Because of the way the school works, students have easy access to their current transcripts and a thing called a status report. These report how many credits they currently have and how many credits they need to graduate.

The discussion was all about how close they were to graduating. One student explained that he was ready to go back to his "home school" at the semester break.

(Students get sent to the continuation high school when they aren't going to graduate on time. Whereas at the traditional high school a student earns 5 credits for passing each class each semester, at the CHS a student earns credits based on how much work he/she completes. Students can earn way more than 5 credits per class per semester, but only if the student does the work.

If the student manages to make up the credits he/she is lacking, that student can return and graduate from his/her previous traditional high school. But, to return to the "home school", the only credits the student can have remaining are the credits for the classes that student is going to take for that final semester.)

The student explained that he only needed a few English credits, a couple math credits, and then he could transfer. Since the semester ends at the end of January, he figured he was perfectly situated.

I pointed out that he wasn't doing that day's assignment. An English assignment. An assignment that would be worth points that would lead to another credit so that he could complete the credits needed to get back to his "home school".

He didn't turn anything in that day. Sigh. Just when I think they "get it", they again prove that they don't.

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.