Lovestruck

There are some things that I don't see when I'm in a class one day and out the next. Little dramas that play out over days. So, six days in one class gave me a different perspective than I normally get.

On the first day, Kenya declared that she wanted to be famous. But Kenya is more interested in something else. Boys.

The IAs clued me in to Kenya's obsession, but I figured out the object of her affection on my own. And he's completely oblivious.

She would say "hi" to him in that fawning way we girls sometimes have, and he kept on walking by. She tried to engage him in conversation, but he was more interested in watching videos on a tablet with his friend. It seemed like she talked to his back quite a bit, and if he heard her, he's doing a great job of pretending that he didn't.

On Friday, we finished their reading assignment early, so Kenya and her toady Brittany had some time to "draw". Only, they didn't draw...

They each wrote one to a different boy, but they wrote the exact same thing. And as they did it, they covered it up, but not well enough for me not to know what they were up to.

I figured it was harmless enough, but the IAs were concerned. The notes were confiscated.

Later, they told me that Kenya's affections only lately transferred to this boy. Her previous crush... Well, something turned her off him.

This was Friday, and they had an end-of-year party in the afternoon. The club was going to hold elections for next year's officers during the party. At least, that's what one of the IAs told me when one boy spent a lot of time chatting up a bunch of the kids.

He was general ed (the club was a way for the special ed kids and general ed kids to interact in a social setting), and he was confident. He made a point of saying something nice to Kenya and Brittany. And I could tell Kenya's head was turned.

Well, at least this boy was better than the last one. I think. Maybe.

I'll see how this plays out next week. If it plays out next week. It should be interesting.

Too Many Subs

When I got offered this gig--6 days in for one of those self-contained special ed classes--I had to think long and hard about it. But I figured I can handle it. And there would be instructional assistants (IAs) to help.

I made the right choice.

Monday had been Memorial Day, so no school. I started on Tuesday. Wednesday went along swimmingly. But one of the IAs was going to be out on Thursday, so there were a couple things I would have to know how to do. Ms. J would have a sub (she was the 1-to-1 aide for a boy who needs almost constant supervision), but she also made sure the students were provided with the math assignment they needed, and she was in charge of mail delivery.

The sub, Mrs. B, is well-known to me. And she knows the class pretty well, as she's floated in on various occasions. So all was well. Until 5th period.

5th period is when Ms. J, and by extension her sub, Mrs. B, takes her lunch. The IA who covers during her lunch hadn't arrived...

A call to the office confirmed that Mr. C had called out for the day. (I'm pretty sure he said something about being out on Wednesday, but for some reason, we didn't know about it and/or didn't have coverage.) Eventually, his sub arrived.

So, Mrs. B went on her lunch, covered by a sub, and the class was supervised by a sub.

Well, at least the kiddos stayed on task. There's something to be said for consistency. So, they did what they do, and eventually the all day IA returned (she spends 5th period in another class) and Mrs. B returned from lunch.

Friday all the regular IAs returned.

My Next Past Life

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements ;)

Everyone has a different belief as to what happens after we die. One belief system talks of reincarnation--the idea that we live different lives as different people. Another talks of if you're a good person you go to heaven, but if you're a bad person, you go to hell.

But what if we meshed the two...?

What if "hell" is just being reincarnated into a terrible era, such as the dark ages?

Nothing New to See Here

So, um, yeah. As of this writing, I haven't done much of any work on the gloves from two weeks ago...

(I may have done more on Sunday, but it won't be done in time for me to post it before this post goes live.)

I don't have any good excuse for my lack of progress. Just life, I guess. Maybe next week?

* * *

Since last Monday was a holiday, some of my regular readers didn't see my post. So, I'm reposting from last week. (For those of you who were here last week, I made no significant changes to the rest of this post.)

One month short of a year ago, I shared my sister-in-law's GoFundMe with you all. From that post:

Heather, my sister-in-law, was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in April 2012. She has an aggressive form of MS, and she needs help for her best treatment option... (Go here for the full post.)

That took her to Panama in July of last year. Since then, I've been trying to get her to do another interview to update you all as to her progress, but with one thing and another...

The GoFundMe has been updated this weekend with what's going on right now...

Short version:
Heather’s health has rapidly declined over the past 4 months. She is currently back in Panama getting another round of stem cell treatments. She’s been there for a week and will be down there for a total of 3 weeks.  

Full update:
February was 6 months from the stem cell treatment in Panama. A routine MRI was scheduled to keep tabs on Heather’s progress. When she got a call from her doctor and was asked to come in for the results, we knew there was a problem.  

The MRI showed that she still only had the one lesion on her pituitary gland, but there were indications that something much worse was ahead. What her doctor saw was the precursor to something called Schilder’s disease. This is an extremely rare type of MS that has only been diagnosed in 99 people in 100 years. Heather became number 100... (Go here for the full update.)

If you could share Heather's story with your social networks, they would greatly appreciate it.

Their Own Way

8th grade English. (It was a middle school week. I had one class of 12th graders on Tuesday, but the rest of the week was all 7th and 8th grade.) All the classes are in the middle of their The Diary of Anne Frank unit.

They read the play version, which is in their literature textbooks. A nice thing about their textbooks is that there are audio versions of everything in there, so if the teacher leaves me the CDs, I can play those while the students follow along.

Alas, on this day, the teacher left neither CDs nor a device to play the CDs on. (We no longer use boomboxes for this. We put the CD in a computer that hooks up to the classroom speakers. It's all very high tech, when things are working.)

Their teacher instructed them to read the last two scenes of Act 2 silently to themselves. And then they were to finish up the questions for the play that they had received at the start of the unit. (All the classes had the same question packet.) Their test was the next day.

Oh, they howled. Why couldn't I play the CD for them?

Um, well, first, I didn't have the CD. Second, I didn't have the teacher's laptop to play it on...

"But there's a computer right over there..."

A computer I hadn't booted up. And that wasn't connected to the in-class speaker system.

"And there's a computer over there..."

That was even farther away from the plugs. And again, not connected to the speakers.

And besides the fact that I didn't have the CDs for the play.

Still, they argued. Then they decided that they'd rather just read it out loud as a class. Which wasn't going to happen considering how uncooperative they were being in arguing for the audio. That would have been a train wreck. I insisted they do as their teacher instructed--read it on their own.

I explained, they needed to read silently. As in, no talking. Because, you can't read and talk at the same time. (I've never managed to do it...)

And they ignored that, too.

Ah, 8th graders in the spring...

This is where I gave up. I fought the good fight. I lost. Time to write it all down.

The next day I was covering another English class nearby. At some point Ms. A. came by. And told me how angry she was with this group.

They were in trou...ble...

The Returner

7th grade science. They had a "warm up" assignment, then they had a review packet to work on.

Instead of doing the warm up quietly, Liam did nothing. When my significant looks yielded no results, I asked him to get on task.

"How come you can talk?"

Right. So, now Liam's on my watch list...

When I passed out the assignment and Liam started whining, I knew how the rest of the period would progress. It was time to nip this in the bud. Luckily, the teacher had provided me with two classrooms to send unruly students out to.

I told Liam to take his assignment and go next door.

Oh no! He'd be good. Just one more chance...

No. Giving "one more chance" is a recipe for disaster. (I learned this one the hard way.) Once they've been given a consequence, not following through is the quickest way for me to lose the entire class.

But Liam wasn't going to budge. Until I informed him that his only other choice involved a trip to the office and a talk with the principal.

Liam left. And class proceeded as normal. Until Liam returned.

He walked back in, went to his seat, pulled out his work, and asked me what pages he needed to complete. As if he had just taken a break and was returning to class.

I answered his question. Then I told him to go back next door. He said the teacher wouldn't let him in. OK, fine. Then he could go two doors down.

A couple students left to use the restroom. They told me that the door to the classroom next door was open, and that Liam was just sitting outside. (He lied about not being let in next door, and he didn't even try to go to the classroom two doors down.)

(Liam returned once again, having been told by some adult or other that he couldn't sit outside. Well, I had told him which room he was supposed to be in...)

Deep sigh. And wouldn't you know it, he was a student in the English class I covered the next day...

The Visitors

Monday. 8th grade English. They were to read quietly. And I had no issues with the classes until fifth period.

As I compared bodies to the seating chart (a couple of them were not where the chart said they should be), I discovered two more students than I should have.

"We belong here. This is our class. We were suspended for a month, and we've just returned..."

But their names weren't on the new class rosters, nor did they have a change of schedule form. So, they were lying.

The rest of the class, however, backed up their story. "They belong here..."

Sure they do. (I wasn't 100% sure they didn't belong. Only 98% sure.) Since the class was fairly settled, and calling security was just causing commotion (oh, how they vehemently insisted--the whole class--that the boys belonged when I tried that!) I decided to play along, making sure to add their names to the class roster.

Is it too much to hope they gave me their real names?

I don't know what they get out of this. They were marked absent (and it's marked as a "cut") in the class they missed. And our class was no fun. They were supposed to be reading quietly.

I made sure the boys did not sit next to each other. And remained quiet. Boring, I'd think.

Ah well. This should be a far more powerful lesson in why one shouldn't "visit" other classes. (And a lesson to the rest of the class in why they shouldn't play along.)