A Fall Day

Before I whine, here's the progress I've made on the purple infinity scarf:

I did it again.

It was the first day of fall last Monday. I had stayed in a hotel overnight. (The floors at home were being redone. We could not walk on them for 24 hours. So, off to a hotel.) And while I had had plenty of time to plan for this (I knew about this for about three weeks), I didn't prepare as I should have.

I had meant to get some bottled water for the two-day stay in the hotel.

So, Monday morning, that was the plan. (Well, the plan was to pick up some water on my way back to the hotel after work, but alas, I was not called to work that day.)

I was going to go back to the room and look up what was nearby. But after breakfast, I stepped outside the hotel and spied a strip mall across the street.

I headed for it. I was nearly to the light at the intersection when I lost my balance.

The pavement was uneven. I had placed my left foot down on a bad spot, my ankle twisted, and down I went. I landed on my right knee. Hard.

I sat there for a bit, whimpering. I have done this before, so I knew I'd get myself up somehow. But, a couple people were nearby, and they helped me up.

My left ankle was pretty swollen. My right knee was scraped up. But I managed to limp back to my hotel room before the ankle got too sore to walk on.

And there I stayed for the rest of the day.

At some point, with my foot propped up, I was reminded that it was the first day of fall. So, I tweeted:

My ankle has a strange sense of humor.

— Elizabeth Arundel (@ZiziRho) September 23, 2019

I will mend. But if you hear me whimpering over here, now you know why.

ELD Bingo

The first two periods of this high school English class was beginning ELD (English Language Development).

How beginning? As I was explaining the assignment to half of the class (while the other half worked on something different), I noticed that none of them were listening. They were all focused on their computers or phones. I peeked at what they were doing. They were typing in the instructions from their papers into their devices, and the computer was translating into alphabets I did not recognize.

So, I did a lot of pointing after that.

But then we were to play Bingo. It was in the lesson plan, I swear.

As soon as I pulled out the Bingo set, a couple students started passing stuff out. I instructed those who were in charge that they were. And they got to it.

The instruction was that as soon as a number was called, the students were to repeat it back. And once they started doing that, I realized what this assignment was all about.

They were practicing their numbers.

For the most part, things went pretty well. They got confused between numbers like thirteen and thirty. But, it's B13 and I30, so if they said I-thirteen, I immediately knew something was wrong.

They were very shy shouting out "BINGO!" though. I barely heard it.

Then it was a scramble for the prizes. Where were the prizes? At least I found those readily enough.

The assignment may have been about practicing numbers, but the winners wanted their winnings.

A Likely Story

It was one of those "severe" special ed classes where the high school aged kiddos are doing second grader work. The teacher had helpfully left a list of all the students and the things I should look out for.

It was fourth period. Math. They were doing worksheets where they were counting change.

They complained. "Math is for little kids..."

Well, um, I took math in college. Calculus. Applied analysis. Math is for adults too. But they weren't buying that.

But after the initial complaint, most of them got to work.

Except for Jeremiah.

Jeremiah didn't need to do the work. He knew it already. And he quickly changed the subject.

First, he had a headache. He needed to get medicine from his sister who was in class two doors down.

Not long thereafter, the conversation turned to lunch. Lunch is after fifth period. He said his lunch was after fourth. Because he was a senior. (There were only ninth and tenth graders in class.) When I pointed out that seniors had the same lunch as underclassmen, he said seniors had a different lunch at the school his brother went to, which was in another district.

Then he wanted to know if I was going to go to his game that night. One of the aides then chimed in with, "I thought you didn't have a game tonight."

And around and around it went. Jeremiah would either say something that was easily proven false, or he would say two things that contradicted each other. (He has a sibling at the same school or his siblings go to another school? Both could be true, of course, but then other "siblings" showed up in the conversation.)

By the end of the period, the rest of the class had finished their math assignment. Jeremiah? Hadn't even started it.

If only they put half as much effort into doing the work as they do in avoiding it.

Where're my Toys?

It was one of those "severe" special ed classes where the high school aged kiddos are doing second grader work. The teacher had helpfully left a list of all the students and the things I should look out for.

Laila was obsessed with her toys. We were to gather them from her, then give them back to her at the end of the day.

The minute Laila walked in, she wanted to know if it was time for snack yet. And then she asked again about every ten minutes. (Snack is about two hours after the start of the day.) As soon as she got back from snack, the question then became about lunch. After lunch, she wanted to know if it was time to go home yet.

She repeated several things throughout the day. Besides the snack thing, she told me repeatedly that she missed her mom. I told her she'd see her mom after school.

And Laila could be stubborn. For history, they were to cut out the names of the original 13 colonies and paste them next to the outlines for those states. One of the aides color-coded them, so they'd be able to paste the names in the correct positions. But Laila was being unruly, so they sent her to work one-on-one with me.

She wanted to cut. So, I let her have a pair of scissors. She randomly cut slices into the paper, through the names, and all over the place. That's when I took the scissors away and did the cutting out of names.

At that point, Laila was done. She would not paste anything. She wanted to cut. But as soon as I got done cutting, she noticed that her paper had all these random cuts in it (that she had made), and that made her sad. She walked away from the project, refusing to do any more.

Finally, the end of the day arrived. The students were all escorted out to their buses or to be picked up by their parents. Laila went right for the teacher's cabinet. This cabinet had been locked all day, and none of us had the key.

We couldn't get into the cabinet. Laila refused to leave the room. The aides reminded her that her mother was waiting for her. Nope, she fell to the floor and refused to go.

She wanted her toys. They weren't in the cabinet, of course, because no one could go in there. We eventually found them, and then she willingly left.

This is what makes these days interesting. There's always at least one kiddo that keeps you on your toes.

Peeking In

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. 😉

What if you happened upon your bedroom window, looked in, and saw yourself inside?

Art Class Drama

I was asked to cover an extra period after lunch. Middle school art. Insert groan here.

I ate my lunch in the classroom I was covering for the day. Then at the bell, I called to get security to unlock the door for me. (I've found that if I call before I leave my "home base", I don't have to wait as long for security to show up.)

When I got to the art room, the door was open. Security had arrived before me, and she had let the kiddos in the room already. I walked in, looking for the day's lesson plans.

That's when I spied Victoria. She's been on security at that school for years. She was hovering over a student, asking the crying girl if she wanted to go to the health office. The girl said she was fine.

After class got started, Jaci explained that the reason she was limping was because a boy had hit her leg at lunch. She had had surgery on her ACL not too long ago, and she wasn't fully healed. (She said it'd take a year to get fully healed with the implication that she was taking a year off her sport for this.)

Jaci bent and moved and figured no major damage had occurred. I told her she should report this boy. She said she wasn't going to get him into trouble. Apparently, he's been in enough trouble. My point was that since he deliberately injured her, he should suffer the consequences. She didn't agree.

If she doesn't report him, he's never going to learn. Sigh.

Jaci and the rest of the class got to work. They were creating "graffiti" versions of their names. They did the usual sort of stuff that middle schoolers do. I kept an eye on them. I didn't have to intervene too much, which meant things were going pretty well.

But then Kristen walked up to me. She was shaking, and she said that she needed to step outside. I do stop to question students when they make those sorts of requests unless it's obvious what's wrong. I waved her on.

I went to the group she was sitting with. What did they do? I had been watching them...

Jaci said Kristen was having a panic attack. Kristen sent her a text. And the group said they hadn't done anything.

It's possible I missed something subtle. But I'll believe the group unless Kristen says otherwise.

A short time later, Victoria came in to retrieve Kristen's stuff. I assume she went home.

All sorts of drama always in the middle school classes. At least it keeps it interesting.

Computer Issues

"Their assignment is in Google Classroom..."

These words in a lesson plan make me nervous. About half the time, the kiddos log in, find the assignment, and everything goes smoothly. Alas, this day fell into the other half of the time.

Middle school woodshop. Yes, woodshop. A good 1/3rd of the class already knew me from the vacant English class.

They logged in. The assignment was supposed to be from chapter three according to the lesson plan. Only chapter two appeared in Google Classroom.

Because, of course.

(When there's a sub in certain classes like woodshop or graphic arts--classes where kiddos use equipment that they really need supervision for--they always get "bookwork". But nowadays much of that stuff is available online.)

I did the only thing I could do. I emailed the teacher to let him know.

Towards the end of first period, the assignment appeared. Per his email to me, the assignment was in "drafts" and for some reason hadn't been posted. Oops.

Well, at least the rest of the classes would have the assignment posted.

Everything went fairly smoothly until sixth period. That's when several students got Chromebooks that were nearly dead.

Upon examination of the Chromecart (where the computers live--and charge--when not in use), I discovered the plug was halfway out of the outlet, and nothing was charging. Oops.

I plugged it in, turned "on" the cart, and charging happened. If only I had discovered this issue so that everyone had a charged enough computer...

(A fully-charged Chromebook has about eight hours of charge. Most teachers teach five hours, so there's no good reason to have dead Chromebooks sixth period. Still, I should have checked...)