The Next Section

There's nothing quite as panic inducing as coming into a classroom to find only a vague note from the sub from the day before.  No lesson plans for today.  No lesson plans for yesterday.  And no idea where to go from here.

The good news was that it was a math class--Algebra 1.  I can do algebra 1 (for that matter, I can do geometry, algebra 2, and I know enough math analysis and calculus to get along for a day).  

So, I did the only thing I could do--I found out where they were and I taught the next section in the textbook.  

Luckily I had a cooperative group of middle schoolers.  (A group of high schoolers likely wouldn't have let me take control of the class.)  They went along with the lesson.  They even did the work that I assigned.  So, score one for me!

The teacher is out with some mysterious illness.  No one in the office knows anything.  I'll be back tomorrow, but at least I have a plan for tomorrow.  And next week is spring break, so hopefully the teacher will be back then.

The Jerk

I didn't notice him at the beginning of the period.  I didn't have to.  There was a student teacher, so all I had to do was sit back and relax.

The first time I noticed the boy, the student teacher was asking him to sit.  He protested.  "One, two, three, four, five other students are out of their seats!"  So, that makes it okay, then?

Then he asked the student teacher if he could go and get his homework which was in the resource room (five doors down).  By the time he returned, the class has finished correcting the homework.  He was upset.  He wanted to know why the 35 other students in the class couldn't wait for him.  Maybe it had something to do with how long it took him to get back?

The class was U.S. history for 11th graders.  Today's topic was the counterculture of the 1960's.  The student teacher finished up her lecture by playing a couple clips of Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock.

Most of the class was interested.  So was the boy.  I overheard him telling his neighbor that Hendrix was rollin' (this is synonymous with trippin', meaning Hendrix was high).  I concurred.  "I wasn't talking to you," the boy snapped.  Gee, I was just trying to be helpful (and agreeing with you!).

Usually with a student teacher I stay out of the way.  And I leave little in my note (it is the student teacher's class, after all).  Today, however, I had to mention Mr. Attitude.  But I had one problem.  I couldn't find the right word to describe him.  

Well, see the title.  Was I being too harsh?

Deny It Like You Mean It

Today was International Day.  It's a tradition at this school.  On the last day of the 3rd quarter (a minimum day) all the clubs set up booths for food or games, and the whole school goes out and plays (half the school 1st, 2nd, and 3rd periods and the other half 4th, 5th, and 6th periods).  

Subs are required for those teachers who are club advisors.  They can't come back to class when it's their classes' turn to be in class since they are supervising their booths.  For 4th, 5th, and 6th periods I got stuck with middle school band.

I watched as two girls walked in 25 minutes late.  They had all their International Day paraphernalia (in this case balloons) with them.  I had taken roll already, so if they wanted to be marked present, they had to check in.  Then one of the girls did come up to me.

The girl explained that one teacher had told her she could stay outside, but then another had sent her to class.  Whatever.  Things were so crazy that I just accepted the story, noted her as late, and told her to have the other girl check in with me.

I watched the girl walk across the room to the other girl.  Just about the time she got there, a boy threw something at one of her balloons and it popped.  The girl spun on the boy and yelled.  I went over to try to diffuse the situation.

The girl was understandably angry.  The boy denied popping the balloon.  He told me that it wasn't him.  I told him that I had seen him do it.  He still denied responsibility.  

Then two boys behind this one boy backed up his story.  Fine.  Then who did the deed?  They hemmed and hawed but gave me no other name.  

I mean, I saw this happen.  Yet, the boy still denied responsibility.  He was pretty convincing, too. 

I tried to settle the girl down, telling her that I saw everything, and the boy would be reported to the band director.  (I didn't write him up since it was the end of the period and the day was so crazy that he would definitely fall through the cracks on this.)  Since no actual fight ensued, I considered this a success.

I just don't get it.  Even when I witness these things, they still deny everything.  I wonder if they think they can convince me to doubt my own eyes.

Panic in the Woodshop

At first I didn't even notice the helicopters.  I was busy observing the woodshop class.  They were not allowed on the equipment, so they had bookwork to do and they weren't happy about it.  I was trying to keep things from getting too wild, and for the most part I was succeeding.

Then a student drew my attention to the sound of hovering helicopters.  "We're going to go on lockdown," he informed me.  A couple other students then were sure that we already were on lockdown.  I assured them that we weren't.  They announce these sorts of things.  There had been no announcement.

So, a couple students had to run outside just to see the hovering helicopters.  I had to chase them down.  What were they going to do?  What could they see?  It was just an excuse to run outside (they were bored, and they refused to do the bookwork).

Well, sure enough, the announcement came.  Something about police activity near the school, so we were going on lockdown as a precaution.  I made sure all the students were inside, and I locked the door.  Then the paranoia began.

The first boy (there were no girls in this class) got upset about missing lunch.  Lunch was over a half hour away.  I explained that they would get a full lunch even if it was delayed (I know this from experience), but that only upset him more because that would cut short football practice (I should have known he was a football player, too).  

Then another boy said I needed to do something about the windows.  The windows were all covered.  He was sure that a stray bullet would come through the glass and do some damage.  I reminded him that no intruder was on campus, no guns were involved, and we were on lockdown as a precaution because of something off campus.  He still wasn't satisfied.

I looked back up at the first boy, and he was on his cell phone.  Apparently he called someone who knew what was going on.  Not that he had details after this call, though.  I'm sure he just used it as an excuse to use his cell phone.

Finally, the principal announced that the lockdown was over.  A boy approached me for a restroom pass.  And I noted the time.  We had been on lockdown for ten whole minutes.

Squeaky Floor

Today I was covering a middle school algebra 1 class.  They had to take their benchmark tests (to make sure that they're learning what they should be learning).  Generally, algebra 1 in the middle school is a pretty good class (as opposed to high school...algebra 1 high school classes generally have the lowest of the low).  

Once I passed out the tests, my main task was to remain awake.  I circulated throughout the room just to make sure they weren't doing anything they shouldn't while testing (they weren't).  

The floors of the classrooms at the back of the campus all have squeaks in them somewhere.  I found several squeaks in this class.  These weren't cute little squeaks but loud and low monster noises.  I found them early.  And I kept finding them.

There's nothing quite as bad as walking over a squeak when a class of thirty-odd students are working silently.  So, I tried to avoid the squeaky spot.  But it's hard to judge just where that squeak is, and so I managed to hit it a few times every period.

Of course, then I'd try to minimize the noise by stepping carefully, only that made the squeak worse.  And I flinched every time I hit it.  

I should bring masking tape with me to school.  Maybe then I'd figure out how to avoid the squeaks.

Do Not Talk to Aidan

It was 5th period.  We had roughly 20 minutes left of class.  The assignment was a worksheet on the order of operations (pre-algebra class).  Two students were finished and one other was finishing up at this point in the period.  

Being a middle school special ed class, I had been dealing with behavioral issues all day.  They were shootin' on each other.  During a particularly loud exchange I noticed that one student had only done three problems.  Three!  These were not long problems.  There were probably 40-odd problems (or more) on the assignment.  

I asked Aidan about how much work he had done.  He told me all about how he had not gotten any sleep the night before due to a mosquito in the house, a barking dog, and some other excuse that I've already forgotten.  He was not tired enough to put his head down on his desk and sleep.  No.  He was one of the main instigators in the class discussions.

So, I told the rest of the class: "Do not talk to Aidan".  Aidan was now off limits.  They could talk to anybody else.  Aidan had some catching up to do.

Of course, the minute you tell students not to talk to someone, that someone becomes fascinating.  But for some reason the class decided to comply.  I only got one girl (Gina) who turned to Aidan to say "hi".  The rest of the class made it into a game.  Aidan no longer existed.

Well, Aidan then had to talk just to talk.  I told the rest of the class to ignore him.  They did.  Then I noticed that Gina had done only a couple more problems than Aidan, so I told the class: "Do not talk to Gina".  

Aidan managed to do maybe three more problems.  Gina got a couple more done as well.  The rest of the class?  Only two others didn't finish.  (Even this guy finished.)

My note named names.  Aidan and Gina were singled out for doing more talking than working.  I have no idea if it'll make a difference.

Number Alignment

I just noticed something this week.  I thought I'd share.

High school is four years: freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior years.  9th, 10th, 11th, and 12th grades.  

This year's seniors are the class of 2009, or '09.  The juniors are the class of '10.  The sophomores--'11.  And the freshmen are of course the class of '12.  

9, 10, 11, 12.  Twice.  

It's just too bad that their year of graduation does not correspond to their grade.  But it is a cool occurrence nonetheless.