Career Day

Today was career day at school. This is when parents with (hopefully) interesting careers come into the classrooms to talk about what their job entails, the skills needed for their job, and to encourage students to stay in school. A great idea, yes? Unfortunately, not everybody knows how to talk to children. You'd assume that since they have children, they would know how to talk to them, but this is not the case.

The first parent that came in was actually the parent of one of my students. She works for the Department of Veterans Affairs. Specifically she works for the "Federal Supply Schedule Service of the National Acquisition Center." She kept using terms like "schedule programs," "blanket purchase agreements," and "contractors." By the end of it, I barely understood what she did, let alone the kids. She meant well, but you really have to learn to speak in kid-friendly language if you want kids to understand what you're saying.

The next speaker was a little better. She was in marketing. Her first question, though, was "Who can name a type of marketing?" She got answers like, "banking," "accounting," and "law." Uhhhh, no. I had to tell her that the kids don't know what marketing is, so she would need to explain it first, then ask the question again. That worked a little better. She was smart and gave stuff away to the kids, like pens and bags with her company's name on them. They were thrilled! However, she went on to say that she didn't really like marketing so she was in school to get her master's in elementary education. I'd say she's got a long way to go.

The last woman was really good. She owned a computer company. She was fun and had a job the kids could relate to. Thank goodness she came in because I was beginning to think every job (but mine) is totally boring.

When I saw the master list of career day volunteers, most of them were pretty standard jobs. One, however, struck me. She had a single name, no last name: Mystery (or something like that). Her job title was "entertainer/diva." I really hope that doesn't mean stripper, but with these parents, you NEVER know. I'll try to find out who she was and report back.

Energizer Bunnies

I think all of my students have Tourettes Syndrome. Okay, that's probably a terrible thing to say, but I swear to god, they cannot sit still for even one minute. They are constantly twitching, tapping, fidgeting, or in some other way moving.

Today some of the kids presented their science fair projects. (On a side note, I HATED science fair projects when I was in school...now I LOVE them! When you don't have to actually do one, the process is really fun!). So while one child was up in front of the room, I sat at their desk to listen to their presentation and grade them.

If you're a teacher, I highly recommend sitting at a student's desk occasionally. It gives you a perspective of your classroom you've never had before. It also gives you an idea of how the student usually sees you. It's weird.

Aaaaanyway, we were all listenting to a student's science presentation when I looked around the room at all the children. Every single one of them was moving in some way. Half of them weren't seated on their butts, either. They were either standing, sitting on their knees (ow!), sitting with one foot underneath their butt, or they were half up-half down out of their chairs (leaning on their desks). It makes me wonder: when does this change?

If you look at adults, we move as little as possible. (It's almost kind of sad how little some adults move!) There are also few or no adults who would sit on a chair in some other way than on their butts. And running? Forget it. When was the last time you ran (and not for exercise or because you absolutely had to)? Kids, though, they would run everywhere if you let them! Do you know how many times a day I say "Stop running" or "Walk"? At least a dozen. At least.

Part of what I love about kids is their energy, but I just wish I could turn it off sometimes! I mean, is five minutes of stillness a day too much to ask?

I'm Old

Y'know what's weird? When a stranger comes up to at some random place like the grocery store and says, "Hi, Ms. ________." (I don't use my name in this blog). This leaves me in an awkward position because I can tell by the greeting that the person is a former student, but I have NO idea who they are because I haven't seen them in god-knows-how-many years. So then I just stare at them and try to figure out who the hell they are and how long ago I may have taught them. They finally take mercy on me and tell me. Then I fall into shock because the little dimpled boy I remember now has facial hair and piercings. (Not that there's anything wrong with that!)

It's scary to think that the first students I ever taught (4th graders) are now college-age. They're able to vote! Hopefully they've learned a bit more since the last time I saw them, because if they haven't, you definitely do NOT want these people voting. ( :

Are You Effing Kidding Me?

They say a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. When dealing with a school, I'd say the equivalent saying is: "A school is only as strong as its main office." Really, if the main office can't get it together, then the school is screwed. We're screwed. The office is definitely our weakest link.

Today I gave a math test. I mistakenly only ordered 19 copies of the math test instead of 20. While I only have 19 students (a blessing), I used one of them to make the test key, so I was short 1 test. Totally my fault. I sent a student down to the office to ask them to make one simple copy of the test. The test was 2 pieces of paper, with the first page being back to back, so I needed a total of three copies. I sent a reliable kid with the test and a very nice note explaining my request. FIFTEEN minutes later, the kid comes back up with the original test and my copy. However, the copy is only 2 pages: the first page and the last page. When I asked him where the middle page was, he said that the secretary told him to tell me that she couldn't copy the second page because it was on the back of the first page. I said nothing. What I wanted to say was "Are you f*cking kidding me?"

So I had to manually write out the 10 problems and the 4 multiple choice answers for each problem on one of my student's test because the secretary was too dumb to figure out that all she needed to do was turn the paper over to copy the back.

We shouldn't worry so much about the future of America. We should worry about its present.

All is Well

I sometimes get overwhelmed by the problems in the world and think that we're going to hell in a handbasket. On the news we hear about crime, poverty, illiteracy, children raising themselves, etc., all of which are such huge problems that feed into one another it boggles the mind. It's enough to want to cry and quit.

While this is wholly depressing, I'd like to report some good news: Kids, no matter where they live, or how shitty their home lives are, or how tough they pretend to be, are still kids.

On field trips, they still crank their arms like mad to make truck drivers honk their horns. They still like to draw with sidewalk chalk. They cheer for no homework or extra recess. They still have compassion for small animals. Girls think boys are gross and dumb and boys think girls are gross and weird.

And for the things about kids that scare us: the violence, the poor performance in school, the "gangsta" mentality that many idolize, etc. We have no one to blame but ourselves: adults. We have modeled it. And if we have not modeled it, we have allowed it, perhaps by doing or saying nothing).

"We have been so eager to give our children what we didn't have that we have neglected to give them what we did."