Loopy

Thursday. Eighth grade math. Seventh period.

When Ms. M planned these two weeks that she'd be out, she found a unit that would take two weeks to complete (including unit test). She kept the topics similar for the seventh and eighth grades, although they wouldn't be the same. 

The seventh graders had learned about circumference and area of circles. The eighth graders had done the volume of cylinders. 

As a sub, I don't usually spend a whole period going over notes and problems and examples. (I usually introduce an assignment, answer some questions, and let them work.) So, by the end of the day on Thursday, I was worn out. 

I had taught the same lesson all day. They started with questions reviewing what they had done the previous class session. Then I went over the answers, starting by writing down the formula for the volume of a cylinder. 

"Shouldn't that be squared?" a student asked.

Instead of writing down the formula for the area of a circle, I had written down the formula for the circumference. (Something the seventh graders had done the previous day, but something none of the eighth grade classes had done on this day.) 

I wrote down the formula three different times, only getting it right on the third try. 

Yup, I was tired. And loopy. 

I had to shake it off and get my brain in the game. This was material that was new to them, so I had to get it right. 

I did. Eventually. After a shaky start.

It's a good thing I don't get too flustered when I make mistakes in front of them. I just own that I made an oops and continue on. (And I thanked the student who caught my mistake. What a disaster if I had continued on with the wrong formula.) 

By the time I get used to teaching them all day, my two week assignment will be over.

The Missing

Around Thanksgiving, I got an email from a teacher. Could I cover her class for the last two weeks of February? 

Because it's middle school math, we decided that things would go much smoother if I taught the class for two weeks (as opposed to them having independent assignments that I just kind of managed). 

Middle schoolers do better with routines. They're going to be on sub behavior because I'm not Ms. M. But we minimize the issues that crop up because they're doing what they're used to. (That's my theory, anyway.) 

One of Ms. M's routines is that when they enter the room, they retrieve a "tool bag" and deposit their cell phones in the pockets.

The "tool bag" contains a calculator, a dry erase marker, a dry erase board eraser, and a red pen. These are all things they can use while taking notes and doing assignments in class. 

This routine has meant that I haven't had to deal with cell phone issues in class. (Well, a couple students have attempted to keep their cell phones, and they played dumb when I caught them, but that was going to happen.) 

I started the gig on Tuesday. On Thursday, a student came up to me. The calculator was missing from their "tool bag". 

Because, of course. 

These are not state-of-the-art calculators. The calculator on their phones is nicer. (But no cell phones in class, so...) But whoever made off with the calculator was not going to be in class, so I borrowed from a "tool bag" of an empty seat so the kiddo had access to a calculator. And I got on with the day.

(We're on a block schedule, so the students I had on Wednesday I wouldn't have again until Friday.) 

By the end of the day, I discovered that two calculators had gone missing.

So, on Friday, I announced to each class that if the class calculator had happened to fall into their belongings to please return it. 

(Cheap, tiny calculators. I did not think they were deliberately lifted. This is the age where I find a water bottle and two jackets left behind each period. Mistakes occur.) 

By the end of the day, two calculators mysteriously reappeared on the teacher's desk. (Different periods.) 

As I wasn't looking for anyone to blame, I was quite happy with this. I ended the week with the same number of class materials that I started it with. 

Trust the Enemy?

What if? It's the basis of many stories. We ask. We ponder. We wonder. 

On Tuesdays I throw one out there. What if? It may be speculative. It may stem from something I see. It may be something I pull from the news. 

Make of it what you will. If a for instance is not specified, interpret that instance as you wish. And if the idea turns into a story, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements 😉

What if the solution to your problem was offered by your nemesis? (I think I've done this question before. If not this question, then the question I did was similar.)

Almost There

Last week I looked at the blue afghan. The afghan looked at me. A nod was exchanged.

It's just about long enough.

If all goes well, I'll bind off this week. Then it's on to a border.

It's time for a list of all the posts for the afghan:

• New Project Loading
• It's Begun
• Can't Count
• Four Rows
• Two Skeins
• Afghan Pics

A Special Ed Day

I was back in Ms. H's moderate to severe special ed class. (When I was last there, I had some car trouble.) 

The first block. Ryder was punching in the air. I was far enough away that I didn't get hit, but I was close enough that one wrong move and I could. I gently mentioned maybe not punching the air. But Ms. S, one of the instructional aides, informed me that Ryder used to punch walls. Punching the air was way better. Agreed.

Ryder had a pretty constant monologue going. Sometimes I could follow his train of thought, sometimes I couldn't.

Ryder wanted to write "superhero" on his paper. Ms. S said he could write it on the back. Later in the day, he wrote it as his last name (although he knows his last name and could spell it when he was prompted to put it on his paper). 

There were worksheets (on the calendar, on telling time, etc). There were activities. Ryder was a little hard to direct, but he eventually got his stuff done.

At lunch, he disappeared into the bathroom and returned in a Batman costume. I had seen him in this costume on previous occasions, and as no one commented on it, I gathered it was a usual thing. Ms. S later told me Ryder gets to have lunch in the costume. Whatever works.

But by math class, Ryder was kind of done. There was a coloring worksheet that he was in a hurry to complete, but I could not get him to do it properly. I directed as best I could, but he wouldn't slow down enough to follow directions. But it was the afternoon of the Thursday before a four-day weekend, so we were all a bit burnt out.

After that, we got to do "fun Friday". (We had a science lesson in the lesson plans, but the IAs said Ms. H had texted them to shift us to a wind down for the weekend. That was fine by me.) Ryder got to hum along to whatever songs he was listening to on his computer. (They got out a Nintendo Switch and connected it to the big screen TV in the classroom. Several students enjoyed that.) 

It was a pretty standard day in that kind of classroom. I've definitely had worse. 

You want to see a bit of their math lesson? We started class with two videos. These were the same two videos I showed the last time I was in class. (They do a lot of repetition. It helps them learn certain concepts.) After the videos, they had other work. But the tunes are kind of catchy. 

The Gram

Valentine's Day. Fourth period world geography. 

On Valentine's Day, the school choirs do a fundraiser where various groups of students deliver singing Valentine grams. They audition for this. The groups are three to seven students, and each group has a part of a song they perform. Then the recipient gets a card with a message and a balloon or a flower (depending on how much the giver spent). 

I've been subbing a lot of years. That means I've seen a lot of Valentine's Days. I know the drill.

A group showed up looking for Charlie. He was identified. The group surrounded him and began the song.

The boy in front of the gram recipient, Gary, got up and got out his phone. He recorded the performance. 

The group finished, said "Happy Valentine's Day," and departed. 

Charlie looked at the gram.

Gary had sent it. 

Apparently, they had had a conversation. Gary said he was going to send Charlie a gram. Charlie didn't believe him. So, Gary had to prove that he was going to do it.

I didn't get the impression that there's anything going on with Charlie and Gary. Charlie was more embarassed than anything. And I think that was the point. Charlie wasn't expecting a gram. And while it wasn't mean-spirited, Gary sending the gram was kind of a prank.

(There are openly gay students on campus. A boy sending another boy a Valentine's gram would not have caused a stir.) 

Moment over, the boys went back to working on their assignment. (The day's topic was weathering and erosion.) 

Volume Control

Tuesday. Seventh grade world history, special ed. It was the day before Valentine's Day, so they had assignments based on that. 

It was a fairly easy day for them. They had some reading with questions. Then they had an online Edpuzzle (which is a short video with questions embedded in it--they do this on their own online). And finally they had a coloring page. 

After they finished all three assignments, they were to work on "a quiet activity". Which is basically saying that they had free time. With computers, they could watch a video, play a game, etc. 

Only, seventh graders don't really do quiet well. 

The conversations got loud. The room was small, and the kiddos who were talking were seated close to each other, but they projected their voices so they could be heard at the back of the theater. (I'm exaggerating, but not by much.) I wish the kiddos would put this much power into their voices when we're doing discussions and reading in class. 

But, that kind of volume on side coversations? It was a bit much.

I'm used to this sort of thing. But the class' instructional aide was not. She warned them that they needed to quiet down their voices or she'd find another way to keep them busy.

The regular teacher, Ms. P, was on campus at a training. There were a couple students that Ms. P wanted updates on, so Ms. V (the IA) and she were texting back and forth. Ms. V texted the teacher about the students being done with the assignment. And Ms. P added more work online for them to do.

Oh, the whining... 

The volume calmed down once they got working, although they couldn't understand what the problem was. They weren't that loud, they said. 

I told them that they really needed to stop going to raves, then. Because they were talking as if they had to compete with loud, booming music. 

Eventually they learn to not call attention to themselves when they've finished their work. Just not in the seventh grade.