Inspirational Quotes January 30, 2013

#1

It is always inspirational to read heartfelt apologies written by students.  Here’s an example of how one student wiped the slate clean:

“Dear Mr. Gym,

I am sorry that I said to go suck one. I promise that I will not say it again.

Signed,

Mr. Sincerity”

Note: “Go suck one” represents approximately 7.6% of the threats of physical harm that were verbalized toward Mr. Gym. But who’s counting?

#2

Sometimes, it is difficult to respond to a student remark.  Case in point:

A sweet-looking six-year-old girl approaches my colleague, who is a lovely young woman in her twenties.

“My brother told me that you are a serial killer.”

 

Please feel free to create wall plaques of these quotes and display them on Pinterest.

 

 

 

Advertisements

Going South, Fast January 29, 2013

Today, when I was writing my learning goals (previously known as “objectives,” soon-to-be-known as “impossibilities”), I accidentally misspelled the word “assess” as “asses.”  Oh, happy accident. I considered leaving it for tomorrow.  And I laughed, audibly.  All by myself. At the whiteboard. Sniffing my dry erase markers.

Had you been a giant fly on the wall in my classroom or the hallway today (there is a real, live, giant fly taking turns dive bombing my colleagues’ and my classroom for weeks, despite sub-zero temperatures and gale force winds around the windows), you might not be so quick to judge my lowbrow reaction to my spelling error.  Don’t judge me, either, for naming the dive bomber P’fly Ylf, adding him to my class roster, and recording slightly higher grades for the fly than for my lowest achieving student.

After lunch, which is better described as Fight Club, I stepped outside my classroom door to check on my young Willem Dafoe at his most psycho.  Willem had earned a non-stop ticket to the main office during lunch, but, since he views such consequences as optional, he had chosen instead to slink around the door, making faces at the rest of my students, who are all one degree removed from mutiny after each and every lunch period.

As I opened the door, I witnessed a virtual hallway encampment of the less-than-high achievers from the class next door.  According to these trustworthy young lads, their sub had sent them to set up a shanty town right outside my door.  In addition, they had apparently been directed to sit there and draw ninjas.  Not having suffered  a severe lack of oxygen to my brain, I questioned the validity of their claims.  When a student hears a teacher yell to another teacher down a hall, in careful standard English, “Oh, yes! It is my understanding that their teacher instructed them to sit here outside MY door.  And he is required to draw ninjas,” they know that, sooner or later, the officials will arrive to break down their little Occupy camp.

All of this did not serve to mellow out Willem.  The school day did not close before he had received a request/suggestion from a student that he should spit upon another girl in my class, to which he cheerfully complied.  Wait—if I had asked him to spit on someone, there is no way he would do it! I’m devastated.

If this doesn’t explain solitary chuckling at inadvertent ass objectives and fabricated insect students, I don’t know what could.

 

Image: http://www.fjm.org

 

 

When Showering is not Optional January 26, 2013

It’s flipping Saturday and there’s an early kid thing I have to do and I had every intention of pulling the hair back, minimally decorating the face, and skipping the shower til later.  It would look like I came from the gym, I reasoned.

Then I saw myself in the mirror.

What the hell happened?  There is no WAY I can get away with not showering this morning. Granted, I watched a weepy show before I went to sleep, and I had a weird dream, but nothing that should render me frightening and bloodshot and puffy and ready for my close-up at my zombie movie audition.

Perhaps, after I have attempted to rehabilitate my face, I shall plan my next installment: When Showering is Not an Option.  It will be my breakthrough piece into the world of fashion publishing.  Dry shampoo, floral body spray, jaunty hat and bright scarf for a pop of color.  Boom.

Image: goodreads.com

Aspiring perfume snipers return January 24, 2013

Here’s another one from the vault. I had forgotten about this episode completely.

peachyteachy

You will be so proud of me.  Since we just learned that our State Assessments are going to be even longer and more difficult, I decided to add a new component to my otherwise test prep-oriented teaching world.  Of course, I will transform formerly dull, failing scores into shiny, passing ones.  But, just in case that doesn’t pan out, Plan B awaits.

So today, I stepped it up at work–I started career grooming a couple of students in earnest.  Their future, world-competitive occupation?  Perfume snipers!  Inspired, I know.  I can’t take full credit for this, truth be told.  I can, however, take credit for the vision needed to see their hijinx as a veritable job aptitude survey!

Behold the magic–while at specials, the girl in question (let’s call her Xena), produced a sprayable fragrance from I-don’t-want-to-know-where and took aim at the boy in question (we’ll call him Jethro), effectively emasculating…

View original post 147 more words

Report Card Comment Do’s and Don’ts January 22, 2013

Another invaluable little tutorial from the  trenches hallowed halls.

DO write this:

Zorkonoman must work on positive behavior choices with peers.  I am supporting him with strategies to quietly bring issues to an adult if he feels threatened.

DON’T write this:

Zorkonoman removed his belt to quietly signal that he was ready to fight during Social Studies.  I generally discourage this, especially when accompanied by a stick figure drawing of him, his aggressor with cartoon balloon of “Let’s fight, Bitch!”, and six adoring onlookers.

DO write this:

Homework completion is an issue for Rapscallawag.  Please support him in this important practice of our classroom learning.

DONT write this:

Rapscallawag registers shock and confusion when asked on a daily basis whether he has his homework.  He does take home at least one classroom pencil daily, possibly to practice reading the words on the barrel. Although, when asked if he had built a bonfire with all of those sticks and papers he never returns, his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. . .

DO write this:

Vidalia is sometimes distracted by items in her desk.

DON’T write this:

Vidalia was writing on her teeth today with a permanent marker. . . After rendering an image of a pony, rainbow, and kitty in Miami Ink style on her arm.

DO write this:

Captain Sunshine has the potential to be a successful math student—-

DON’T write this:

—If he doesn’t get his cousin to cut you.

DO write this:

Edward Scissorman determined the capacity of his desk in square units.

DON’T write this:

Scissorman has made 375 paper ninja stars, 62 paper pistols, 9 fortune tellers which are arranged strategically in his desk to mask the 14 cereals, 3 bananas and 5 orange juices that he lifts from the cafeteria weekly and transports to the classroom in his pants pockets.  He does not take off his belt when ready to fight.  He throws ninja stars.

See here and here and here for more professional report card writing tips.

Image: acc.blogs.starnewsonline.com

 

Emergency? Really? January 20, 2013

EMERGENCY! #1: 

Do you recognize these two gentlemen?  They are Kevin Tighe and Randolph Mantooth–Kevin Tighe probably looks familiar; he went on to a successful movie career, appearing in a few John Sayles films, among others.   But first, he was a life-saving paramedic on the super-awesome “Emergency!” Roy and Johnny weren’t too cool to rescue a cat up a tree now and again.  This represents the television of my youth.  It pre-dates the inferior “CHiPS,” which tried to make up for the lower-case i in its title with Erik Estrada’s neon teeth.

EMERGENCY? #2:

Earlier today, I washed my hands in a well-kept, flatteringly lit, public restroom.  Things were going well, thanks to the absence of glaring fluorescent lighting that could make a 22-year-old look like she needs to have some work done, not to mention someone from  the 23-plus crowd in which I have dwelled for some time.  When I proceeded to the hand-drying stage, I noticed that I had the choice of paper towel dispenser OR the air-blower option.  First, I tried to wave my hand at the paper towel dispenser, which resulted in no perceptible change in the presence of paper towels. The toilet had been on a sensor; don’t judge! That is not the emergency; that the towel thing was a manual model.  I adapted, and elbowed the hot air blower thing on.  This is not the emergency, either, but the hot air was pretty flaccid, as hot air blower speeds go, resembling nothing more than someone mouth-breathing one-fourth of an inch away from your hand.  I had been expecting the blast that will distort your features if you stick your face under there.  At this point, I turned to the paper towel dispenser to help with my personal goal of drying my hands in less than twenty minutes.  It was apparent that there was not an accessible towel, but, much to my relief, there was an EMERGENCY FEED on the side of the machine!  What a relief! It was a brighter, sweeter world when I walked out of that bathroom; I can tell you that, mister. I had walked through the emergency and had emerged unscathed and more fully alive (Please note the deft manipulation of the word “emerge” here.).

EMERGENCY? #3:

On the off chance that you take issue with my cavalier attitude toward the whole emergency concept, may I present for your consideration some alleged emergencies that I encounter on a nearly daily basis.

“You stole my pencil and I’m going to punch you in the face! What? It’s on the floor? Oh. Don’t touch my stuff!” Dubious, as emergencies go.

“I have to go to the nurse! We were throwing water on each other when we went to the bathroom without permission and water got in my ear! This ear–water–it hurts! This ear–no water–it doesn’t hurt!” Near-emergency then occurred when I choked on my water in my attempt not to laugh in student’s face.

“Can I PLEEEEEASE go to the nurse? The bottom of my pantleg got wet and I need a new pair of pants. My mom told me if my pantleg is ever wet I should go to the nurse so I won’t get sick.”  Let’s do an evaporation experiment instead!

You can see why my definition of “Emergency” has become as broad as the proverbial side of a barn.

You want to talk about legit Emergencies with a capital E?

ACTUAL FREAKING EMERGENCY:

It is an incontrovertible emergency when a woman is being interviewed on television, discussing the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, and she utters the following words: “It is important for us to talk about the heroes, and the sheroes, of our history.” WHAT? Where was the emergency editing intervention here? Do we need to enact legislation in order to assure that this completely preventable incident doesn’t repeat itself? Because I am pretty sure that Emergency rooms across the local viewing area were flooded with folks who involuntarily attempted to gouge out their own eyes and ears in the face of the horror of it all.

ANOTHER ACTUAL FREAKING EMERGENCY:

I am making chili for dinner.  There is not one onion to be found in the house! WTF?! Fortunately, my guy is a former first responder, and recognized the situation for what it was, pronto.  At this point in our relationship, he knows that I am expecting him to not only hightail it to the nearest onion purveyor, but to slap the flashing light on the roof before he throws the car into gear.

Fortunately, some of us know how to respond to an emergency.

image: tvseriesfinale.com

Still in Cub Scouts: Miracle or Curse? January 18, 2013

It’s getting to be that time again, so I thought I would share another older post that you might enjoy. It’ll be different this year. This I swear by the stars.

peachyteachy

Oh, Cub Scouts.  Oh, Pinewood Derby.  Oh, mommy humiliation at the horrific reality of having the only minimalist (read: ghetto) car at the event.  You are supposed to transform your car into a tank, or a monster, or maybe even a parade float.  Ours looked more like a suet cake on wheels. With googley eyes.  One of the uniform-wearing types in my kid’s “den” asked him point-blank, “Did you work hard on that?” Yeah, about as hard as you worked on tying that neckerchief, Skippy. We will invest in the uniform shirt after taxes come back. Maybe.

I’m the mom.  I don’t go to the Cub Scout meetings.  This means that males have to acquire all of the relevant information using only their own rudimentary listening skills.  This is why we somehow did not know that the one-time “Car Cut” event meant that you either go and have your block…

View original post 236 more words