When You're a Jet, You Stay a Jet!

We've been studying Shakespeare and Romeo and Juliet for the past two weeks.  Luckily, one of my curricular objectives demands that we compare and contrast the text to a filmed version.  DONE!  I show a few clips from the 1997 Romeo + Juliet with Leonardo, Gnomeo and Juliet (this made an appearance in the blog last year), and The Complete Works of William Shakespeare--Abridged!  

Today was a half day, and I only had about thirty minutes with one of my classes.  I decided I would show them some of West Side Story.  I used to show the entire movie because I feel it is my duty as a teacher to expose my students to the wonder of musical theater, plus then I can sing the songs at the kids all day and it gives me great pleasure.  Strangely, the students are usually bored and/or annoyed with the film (and possibly my singing), so I have backed off and now only show a few scenes.  Today's group, however, would have happily watched the entire thing.  I started off with the opening dance battle scene.  Usually the kids complain about how lame it is.  This group immediately sorted themselves into rival gangs based on shirt color.  We didn't have time to watch much more other than the scene at the dance, but it certainly made an impression.  As they walked out to their lockers, there was a great deal of snapping as well as some jazz hands.  No, I am not joking.

A parent has already reported that the snapping continued at home as well.  Apparently I need to teach an elective on classical musical films.

99 Luftballons

Okay, there weren't 99 balloons, and they certainly weren't all red.  But there were plenty of balloons and streamers attached to my door last week for my birthday by my wonderful teammates (thanks again, teamies!)

The decorations haven't been removed due to my laziness my desire to force everyone to celebrate my birthday all month.  Two balloons did have to be removed, however, because I couldn't open the door all the way.  If you have met seventh graders, you understand that the door needs to be able to open all the way while you are monitoring them from the hall.  The balloons that I removed were hung inside my room on my closet door in a rather festive manner.  I noticed today that one of them was looking pretty puny, but I didn't have time care enough to deflate it and throw it away.

During my second block class, a student was apparently saddened by the sorry state of the balloon.  I looked up to find him standing in the back by the closet.  PETTING THE BALLOON.

"What on earth are you doing?" I demanded.

"I just couldn't help it!" he cried.  "The balloon just looks--so sad!  I thought it needed a friend!  If the balloon can't have a friend, then no one can!"

I am a monster, apparently.

No Business Like Show Business

One of my self-appointed jobs as a middle school teacher is to teach my students that life isn't fair.  You don't like your assigned seat?  Life's not fair.  You forgot your book in your locker?  Life's not fair.  The English language is difficult?  Life's not fair.

It's a public service, really.

I don't remember what the charge was today--maybe something about not getting chosen to share good news or something equally as life-shattering.  So I launched into my usual speech about life not being fair.  A kid over in the corner--without prompting from me-- launched into "It's A Hard-Knock Life."  He was quickly joined by the majority of the class.  That adorable Orphan Annie sure gets me.

In related news, I would like to promote the use of show tunes in the classroom on a daily basis.  Perhaps I can team up with the music teacher and offer credit for applying appropriate lyrics to classroom situations....hmmmm...

Four Groovy Buttons!

One of my classes has paired up with the Young Fives class at my school for reading buddies.  We meet once a week and help the little kids learn how to read and do projects.  The seventh graders LOVE it, and the small ones do too!

Today our class was tasked with helping the kids learn about subtraction.  The teacher had a book about Pete the Cat and his four groovy buttons; she showed the pictures while we listened to an audio recording.  The basic plot is: even though Pete's buttons pop off one by one, he just keeps on singing his groovy song.  Eventually ALL his buttons pop off, and Pete is left with only his belly button.  I'm including a link for you if you happen to be unfamiliar with Pete, as I was.

Well, Pete's groovy song is possibly the biggest, baddest ear worm that ever reared its ugly head.  Really.  Listen to it.  I DARE YOU NOT TO BOP ALONG.

As a result, the seventh graders were dancing around singing the button song once we returned to our classroom.  Which was quite the sight.  Then this exchange occurred:

Student:  Don't you think that book is inappropriate for young five students?

Me: Um, no.  It has a cat singing a groovy song.  What could be inappropriate about that?

Student:  At the end Pete is practically naked because all the buttons have fallen off his shirt.  This movie should have been rated R for brief nudity.  Totally shocking.  Belly buttons sticking out all over.

Me:  I could get on board with your logic on this one.

I'll Try Not To Let It Go To My Head

We have morning assembly in the gym each day before classes begin.  My class sits at the far end of the gym, so we have to walk the length of the floor before we sit down.  My former students have taken to applauding as I walk by.  I swear I had no part in initiating this ritual, but it sure is an ego boost each morning!

Some people may think it's sad that my self-esteem rests on the accolades of eighth graders.  I say you should take the accolades where you can get them and enjoy them while they last.

Should I be Offended or Flattered?

New school year!  Yaaaaaaaaaaaay!  More fodder for my blog!

My class sits in the back of the gym at our daily morning assembly.  The eighth graders (my former students) sit on the bleachers directly behind my class.  I did not take this fact into account last year when I tormented them taught them language arts to the best of my ability.  It's only been two days, and already I have been mocked, kicked, and glared at.  I'm certain it's all done out of love, but this gives you a sense of the relationship that this group of girls has with me.

Anyway, the girls were glaring at me before assembly started.  This, of course, simply provokes me to come over and taunt them further.  When I did, one of the girls gave me a big hug.  I do not deny that I was slightly surprised by her gesture, but it was really sweet.

"See? Some people appreciate and love me," I said to the rest of the gaggle.

The hugging girl abruptly broke off the hug, slid down the bleachers, and said, "Oh, I wasn't hugging you because I missed you.  You're just really, really soft."

Hmmmm.  Soft is not generally an adjective I would use to describe myself, but maybe she had a point....

Ewwwwww.

School hasn't officially started yet, so no amusing kid stories.  But don't worry, I cause enough chaos all on my own to keep the ball rolling here.

Yesterday morning my beagle got really sick.   Like, throwing up nine times sick.  I thought he was dying.  Of course, yesterday was my first day of meetings, so I couldn't really not be there.  I made the decision to bring him with me to work so I could keep a closer eye on him.  The second we got into the car, he instantly became happy, rambunctious dog again.  He was relatively okay all day at school and I took him to the vet as soon as I could.  After running $200 worth of tests, the vet diagnosed him with a serious G.I. upset, probably caused from eating something he shouldn't have eaten.  In case you are unaware, beagles are notorious for garbage-digging.  So I paid up and took him home, pumped full of fluids and anti-nausea meds.

This morning, the beagle seemed fine.  He was sitting on my bed while I got ready to leave.  We got brand-new staff t-shirts yesterday with the intent that we were to wear them at our back-to-school carnival so parents would know who staff members are.  I was not going to wear mine until the evening because wearing something that I need to keep clean all day invariably leads to me spilling something on it.  Inversely, if I wore a different shirt during the day and changed at night, the likelihood of me NOT spilling anything is 100%.  Math never lies.  I folded the shirt and left it on the bed, ready to put in my backpack, while I brushed my teeth.

The beagle puked on my shirt.

Panicked, I ran through my options in my head:

1.  Wash shirt in sink and pray that it dries in time for evening event

2.  Wear a different shirt to the carnival, confusing parents and aggravating my boss who bought the shirts specifically to be worn at the carnival

3  Wipe it down and wear it as is (not really an actual option, because gross)

4  Throw it in washer and drier at home, which would delay departure by at least an hour and cause me to be late to school

5  Find laundromat near school. Wash and dry it between meetings and event.  Seems smart.  Problem: no laundry detergent or cash on hand. 

5.  Call teammate who lives five minutes from school and beg her to wash my shirt and bribe one of her children to move it from the washer to the dryer during the day.  Have teammate pick up shirt while picking up children.  SOLD!

I remain hopeful that should you attend the carnival tonight, I will be wearing my new shirt.  The beagle is not invited. 

Apparently We Need to Focus on Empathy

Two small things from today:

First of all, a student said (creepily), "When you die, I'm going to scatter your ashes as far away from me as possible."  She had just given me a slushy, however, so I'm hoping that I have nothing to worry about from her.

Secondly, we were watching E.T. in class today to study product placement.  Yes, really.  We got to the scene where E.T. is dying and Elliot is crying, and a girl starts laughing.  LAUGHING.  I gave her the stink eye, and she said, "I can't help it!  It's just so cheesy!"  Some of the other kids turn around and told her to be quiet, but one kid announced, "I don't care if he dies!  It's just a movie."

It's going to be a looooooong ten days...

The Ice Cream of the Future!

I had never had Dippin' Dots (the ice cream of the future) until I went to Cedar Point with my students six years ago.  My co-worker, who we'll call Mr. Skywalker, introduced me to these delicious frozen treats.  I admit, I was skeptical at first, but he persisted and soon I was won over.  The only place I have ever seen them is at Cedar Point, so now my visits to the amusement park are spent hunting down Dippin' Dot vendors and consuming as many different flavors as possible in eight hours.  Here's what they look like, in case you have not been made aware of the future of ice cream:

The cookies and cream are my favorite.

In unrelated news, apparently one can BUY a Dippin' Dot machine:

I have a sneaking suspicion that homemade Dots would pale in comparison to Cedar Point ones.  Plus I'm lazy.  But it does please me that such a contraption exists.

This isn't the point of my story though.  Our annual field trip is on Thursday, so of course I have been informing the students that they need to bring money to purchase Dippin' Dots and then send selfies of themselves consuming said Dippin' Dots to Mr. Skywalker, who has since moved on to another school.  It will make him CRAZY and make me laugh.

As I was informing the students of their assignment at the amusement park, one student raised her hand and said, "I don't like Dippin' Dots."

As I began to give her the stink eye, another student at the back of the classroom stood up and yelled, "SHE'S A WITCH!"

Really.  Full-on Monty Python.

Then in the mass chaos that follows, I heard another kid say, "Dippin' Dots do weird things in my mouth."  Apparently he was relating what his MOTHER says about Dippin' Dots, but I think it's funnier without knowing that part.

I Just Want To Bang On The Drum All Day

Disclaimer: I have a very good relationship with my students.  They know that most of what comes out of my mouth is total nonsense, especially prior to 9:00 A.M.  No drummers were hurt in the creation of this post.  Really.  Idle threats, all of them.

I am fairly certain that the entire percussion section of the seventh grade band is in my homeroom.  And when is band?  Immediately after homeroom, so the drumsticks are omnipresent.  The rule is that drumsticks are only to be used on, you know, drums.

There are no drums in my classroom.

Do you honestly think, for even one second, that there is no drumming occurring in my room?  I mean, really.  IT IS CONSTANT.  These kids drum even WITHOUT the sticks.  I know, because I had to ban them from my room after band class.  FOR OBVIOUS REASONS.  The drumming and tapping has been driving me insane all year.  In fairness, the kids themselves warned me that they liked to tap even before they became seventh graders, so it's not like I wasn't prepared.

But this morning, there was drumming.  I do have a stool in my room that is roughly the same size and shape as a snare drum. Apparently it was too much temptation for this particular drummer to resist and the madness began.

Me, standing outside my door in the hallway:  I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO COME IN THERE AND RIP YOUR ARMS OFF, BUT SO HELP ME....

*drumming comes to an immediate halt*

Fellow non-percussionist classmate standing in the hall with me:  That wouldn't solve the problem.  He'd just drum with the stubs.  Or use his head to bang on the wall.

#truth.  Kid's got rhythm.

I Don't Think That Word Means What You Think It Means

It's Teacher Appreciation Day.  YAAAAAAY for teachers!

Because my school rocks, we actually get an entire WEEK of appreciation.  I am lucky enough to work at a school where the parents and administrators spoil teachers rotten during this week.  We have lunches every day, presents, cards...it's almost too much.  Almost.  I like to think that I've done my time--most of the other schools I've worked at might send an e-card at the end of the week.

One of the fun activities we have during this week takes place during our morning assembly.  One teacher from each hall competes in a silly game of some sort.  The winner gets to spin a wheel to determine his or her prize, which could be a jeans day, free lunch, or even getting to leave early.

I have never won.

Today, the lucky winner spun and received a pass to leave early.  My homeroom students, who by the way had mocked me for screaming, "WHEEL! OF! FORTUNE!!!!!" when the wheel came out, asked why I couldn't win one of those passes.

"Because I possess neither luck nor ability," I replied.  The students continued to encourage me to attempt to play tomorrow, which seemed suspicious.  "Why do you want me to win?" I queried.  "Why are you trying to encourage me so much? Are you finally starting to appreciate me?"

"If you won a pass to leave early, maybe you could use it to come in late instead.  And then you'd miss our class."

"But I've missed your class like four times out of the past seven," I pointed out.  I was out of town.  Then sick.  Then at a doctor's appointment.

"Yeah, and it's been great!"  was the reply.

We need to work on defining "appreciation," apparently.

Therefore, I will be appreciating Star Wars tomorrow loudly and with relish.  And I shall be involving some homeroom students in the celebration against their will.  To show my appreciation and all.

I Think They Nailed It

We have started our poetry unit in seventh grade.  Today's assignment was to write and present a group list poem (which is pretty much what it sounds like).  The topic given was "School" in any way, shape, or form that they chose.

Apparently I never learn.

One particularly devious clever group came up with this gem, which I present for you in its entirety along with my commentary in italics:

Ms. Whiston

The demon shark flies over our heads.  There is an Air Shark loose in the room

Our security system is a beheaded unicorn.  True

Handles rats like a demon boss.  I am a demon boss

Threatens us to join the Dark Side.  This is why my light saber is red

Her birthday is year round.  I haven't taken down a birthday sign from November

When we're gone, we need to bring her presents.  A genius rule, if I do say so myself

Makes [the math teacher's] room look like heaven.  Her room is definitely cleaner than mine

Uses The Force to threaten us.  Can't deny this

Her rodents keep their red beady eyes on us.  There are no albino rats in my room

Then Yoda came to save us one day.  He did.  He talks, fights, and everything

But he was too late.  Yep.  The damage has been done

Note the use of repetition, the descriptive language, the use of simile...

April Fools (?)

First of all, let me say that whoever made April 1st coincide with the last day before spring break ought to be forced to teach seventh graders on that day.

*vent over*

I am not big into pranks on April Fool's Day, mostly because I see no point in only fooling people on the day they're expecting it.  But I saw an idea on a blog I follow which interested me.  I tweaked it a little bit and got the principal in on it.  The idea was to tell my homeroom that I had played an epic prank on the principal this morning, but I didn't want to reveal any details because she hadn't discovered it yet.  The kids asked if she would call me when she found the prank, and I replied, "Undoubtedly."  Then I waited for the phone call from the principal.

As planned, she called and pretended to be furious with me.  The kids could only hear my half of the conversation, but it basically involved me denying all responsibility for the prank, her telling me I went too far, me pointing out that there were students present and we should discuss this later, and her saying she'd be down shortly to discuss the issue further.

The kids were pretty nonchalant about it.  "Did you get in trouble?"  one student asked.

""Meh," I said.  "She'll get over it.  She didn't really need that desk anyways."

A few minutes later, the principal and the dean came into my room and escorted me out.  We then got a box and I came back in and started emptying my desk.  Again, the kids barely even blinked.  I walked out of the room with my box, head down, not making eye contact with anyone.  Kids are LAUGHING at me.  The principal went back in and pointed out that they probably wouldn't be seeing me again, so maybe they shouldn't be laughing so much.  No dice.

Finally, we gave up and I went back in.  One child had already appropriated my rolling chair.  And my garbage can was on my desk.  Either we need to work on our acting skills, or the kids really would be fine with me leaving.  I had been worried about damaging their fragile psyches, but I needn't have worried.  "We figured the principal was pranking YOU," they said.

So a fail.  The only person who was fooled by our little skit was one of the other teachers, who thought I really was being fired.  Which was funny in hindsight, but I doubt she was amused as she watched me walk out with my box!

I also got blamed for a prank played on another teacher.  A bunch of students snuck in and sticky-noted his entire room.  THE ENTIRE ROOM.  I played no part in the execution of this prank, although I may or may not have provided a key.  BUT STILL.  There's no trust.

Adding insult to the injury, I knew that a bunch of seventh grade girls have it in for me were attempting to prank me, so I was on my guard.  I even locked my classroom door when I went to lunch, glorifying in the look of panic in their eyes as they realized they wouldn't be able to get in my room to enact their devious plan.  "Mama didn't raise no fool," I commented as I walked past them on my way to eat.

Silly me.  Silly, silly me.  I should have realized that there are an ABUNDANCE of people with keys to my room who were more than happy to unlock it.  This is what I came back to:

I had to bribe my next class to help me clean up.  In related news, I am pretty much out of tissues now.

Good thing I have a week to lick my wounds  plot my revenge relax!

We Need More Potatoes

I'm trying to process all the news coming out of Brussels this evening.  I used to live near Brussels, not that it gives me any more right to be indignant or sorrowful or anything.  The reaction of some of the American candidates for president are shocking me as well.  I don't want to delve into politics--that's not the point of this blog.  It just seems to me that nothing has ever been solved by stirring up hatred and fear.

Which leads me to what I was originally planning to write about before I came home and saw the news.  Our principal talked about how important it is to encourage other people, and how you feel good when you hear encouraging words EVEN IF THEY AREN'T DIRECTED AT YOU.  You feel better when people around you are being nice to other people.  Radical concept, right?

In one of my more crazy brilliant schemes, I decided that it would be GREAT to encourage my teammate by sending her a potato.  Yes, this is a real thing.  It's called AnonymousPotato.com, and they will ship a potato emblazoned with a message of your choice to anyone you want.  Anonymously, of course.  You can even purchase accessories for the potato such as a burlap sack.  I did not opt for the burlap sack.

I have been updating the tracking information ever since I ordered it, and today was the day!  I only wish I had been in the office when she checked her mailbox.

Of course, no one (and I do mean NO ONE) had any doubt where the potato had originated from, which I find vaguely insulting.  But only vaguely.

I think I made her day a little bit brighter.

My point: Send someone a potato.  Or just be kind and nice and encouraging.  Don't let the haters tell you how to think.

I had a Groupon, by the way.

In science, we must be interested in things, not in persons.

Today we were talking about eponyms.  Eponyms, for those of you who aren't total dorks like me language arts teachers, are words that are formed from the name of the person who created the thing.  For example, the word leotard comes from its inventor, French acrobat Jules Leotard.

As you can see, I am a veritable treasure trove of useless information.

But I digress.  One of the eponyms on our list was curium.  As in the element.  I don't know what it does or what it looks like.  But I do know that it was named for Marie Curie.  So we were discussing who she was and how she won the Nobel Prize (twice), yada yada yada.  I mentioned that if you want to read her original notebooks, you have to wear protective gear because they are still radioactive.  A kid in the back looks at me strangely.

"What?" I said.  "She died of radiation poisoning.  It takes a long time for radioactivity to dissipate."

The kid exclaims, "Oh!  You're talking about Marie Curie!  I thought you were talking about Mariah Carey!"

The confusion is understandable.

I don't need a sword. Because I am the Doctor. And this is my spoon.

The students are studying myths, legends, and tales currently.  For their research project, they have to find out about the historical background of a legend such as Atlantis or Santa Claus and then determine why it has remained popular.

Today, in a win for geeks everywhere, my students were able to work The Doctor into their presentation.  And yes, it was actually relevant, and yes, it was amazing.

I should retire right now.

Aaaaaand I'm Out!

Today I reached the pinnacle of my teaching career.

*Background: It's Spirit Week. Today was Imposters Day. Cue the chaos and anarchy.*

Not only did I have a student impersonate ME for the first time (and she did it well), there was also a contingency of eighth graders who dressed up as characters from Star Wars.  Every major character other than Threepio was represented. With props.

I'm not allowed to post photos of my students, so you'll have to trust me on the epicness of this turn of events.  After YEARS of students not understanding my references, my brainwashing scheme has come to fruition!

Well THAT Escalated Quickly!

It's been a prolific week...

As the students were getting ready for lunch today, I saw a large sticker on the floor.  When I picked it up, it was an address label for the older sister of one of my students.  I called her over.

Me: Hey, what's this doing here?

Student:  I don't know.  Maybe the devil is among us?

Oooooookay then.

"I'm Not Illiterate! My Parents Were Married!"

The unit we just finished up in our anthology contains possibly THE WORST dramatized version of A Christmas Carol that I have ever had the misfortune to come across.  So as to not inflict that sort of damage upon my students (and myself, frankly), I decided to substitute a young reader's version of Romeo and Juliet.  The kids LOVE it, and it makes me happy too.  Reading Shakespeare is one of the few things I miss about teaching high school.  

After taking the unit test, I decided to reward the kids for doing such a great job by letting them watch Gnomeo and Juliet.  If you're unfamiliar with this gem, you really should watch it.  It's a cartoon retelling of Romeo and Juliet, but with garden gnomes.  And Elton John.  I know, it sounds ridiculous, but it's actually very clever.  The students loved being able to match up the characters and were furious when the gnomes don't all die at the end.

However, there were some issues with the accuracy and logistics of the plot.  Apparently the students were okay with talking garden gnomes who race lawnmowers in the alley, but they couldn't handle a few other small details.  For example, this is Lady Bluebery, who is Gnomeo's mother:

Comments that were made by the students included such gems as, "I still don't understand how gnomes have children," and, "Wait--you're like 60.  How can you have a child?"

Focus on the important details, people.

Fear Leads to Anger, Anger Leads to Hate, Hate Leads to SUFFERING...

Today's topic was epics.  I mean, EPICS.  While we are studying the more traditional, poetry kind of epics, the students are more familiar with modern epics such as Star Wars, Percy Jackson, and Harry Potter.  Which works well for me since I can use them as examples of characteristics.

One characteristic of epics is that they often include a struggle between GOOD and EVIL.  Who better to illustrate this conflict than Darth Vader?  Which of course prompted a discussion about whether Darth Vader was truly evil, and we all know where that goes.

I start trying to wrap up the discussion so we can move to the next slide, but a student in the back just can't let it go and blurts out, "When you teachers give us homework, that's when the evil wins!  GET OUT THE PITCHFORKS!"

Really.  She played the pitchfork card.

Jedi Masters

I bought a new toy recently. Yes, I am aware that I am 41 years old. But when you find the Yoda Jedi Trainer on sale, you don't pass up that opportunity for chaos and anarchy in your classroom. Here's what it looks like in action:

Well, not in action exactly, but you get the point.  It talks, spins, and hits you with the lightsaber.  Epic.

Today was a professional development meeting. In order to amuse myself during long meetings, I like to bring props. So of course, Jedi Master Yoda had to join our table in the gym. I did not realize, however, that the middle school teachers were only spending a few minutes in the gym before heading off to a meeting in the computer lab for the rest of the morning. I didn't have enough hands to carry Yoda and my coffee, so I figured that Yoda could stand guard over our table while we were gone. 

You would think I would learn. TRUST NO ONE! 

When I came back to the gym after the morning meeting, Yoda was nowhere to be seen.  In a blind panic, I shrieked, "Where's Master Yoda?" like a little girl. 

Silence.

Then one of the kindergarten teachers, who had stayed behind in the gym for the morning meeting, drawled, "Can't you use the Force to find him?"

I may have asked for that. So I changed tactics and started looking around the gym. How hard can it be to find an 18" green guy with a lightsaber? 

Friends, I have been SCHOOLED!

I Am Officially Old

If you have ever met seventh graders, you will know that they are easily distracted.  Especially by clip art in presentations.  I have apparently not learned this lesson in my eighteen years of teaching them because today's PowerPoint contained not only clip art, but MOVING clip art!  What on earth could I have been thinking?

Rather than writing down what they were supposed to be writing down, students wanted to know important details such as, "How did you get the clip art to move?"

"Magic," I replied with a wave of my hand.  "Duh."

Then they wanted to know why the cartoon characters did not appear to have a waist.  And what the cartoon character was writing.  And why they couldn't read the writing.  And so on and so forth until I was about ready to delete all remnants of clip art so we could continue with the actual lesson.

On the final slide, I made an even bigger mistake.  The example sentence used to demonstrate relative pronouns and relative clauses was, "The person who called me last night is my teacher."  I very cleverly thought that a phone would be an appropriate piece of clip art to illustrate this slide.  It didn't even have any motion--it was just a phone.  Here's what the phone looked like:

Anyone else see where this is going?

"Why are there no numbers on that clock?"

BECAUSE IT'S NOT A CLOCK!  BACK WHEN DINOSAURS ROAMED THE EARTH WHEN I WAS A GIRL, THIS WAS THE ONLY PHONE WE HAD!  AND IT HAD A CORD AND WAS WIRED TO THE WALL!  GET OFF MY LAWN!


*deep cleansing breaths*

You May Address Me As "Your Worshipfulness"

Two posts in one day?  DOGS AND CATS LIVING TOGETHER, MASS HYSTERIA!  When you're on, you're on.  What can I say?

Background: Today my colleague and I had a release day to complete the mass amounts of grading that comes along with interim tests and performance tasks.  Before we locked ourselves far away from the children, a parent came in and gave me a My Little Pony tiara.  Like you do.  Of course, I was now mandated to wear said tiara for the rest of the day.  Like you do.  It was strangely comfortable, perhaps a sign that I am secretly royal and my real parents will show up soon to allow me to claim my birthright.

Or not.

Moving on with the story... our principal finds us a little later that morning and asks if we would be willing to do her a favor if she bought us lunch.  Of course, we were all on board with that.  Turns out that the librarian was out sick and they needed someone to cover the library specials time for the Young Fives class.  Would we be willing to help?

Of course!  What could possibly go wrong with this plan?  Two middle school teachers with a penchant for sloths in charge of the younglings?  Bring it on!

I went down to the Young Fives classroom to find out what the plan is.  When I walked in the door, every child gasped in delight.  One little girl squealed, "ARE YOU THE QUEEN?"

I had forgotten the tiara.  Apparently tiaras cause mass hysteria in the primary hall; in my own hallway, I just explain that it's Tiara Tuesday and people nod their heads and move along.

"Why, yes!"  I announced grandly.  "I am the Queen of the Library today, and I look forward to seeing you later this morning!"  Then I had to fight off a rush of small children who all wanted to touch the royal tiara.  As I tried to fend them off, a little girl whispers, "I hope you wear your fancy dress to the library!"

Great.  I can't disappoint the children.  So I stopped in my room before we headed to the library and picked up the gold lame´cape that I just so happen to keep in my closet (what, like you don't?) and felt this would suffice.  The first twenty minutes of our library time went swimmingly.  But soon I could sense the small ones were growing antsy.  We raided my closet once more and found my box of random dress-up items, which provided the chance for complete chaos and anarchy as well as general hilarity.  When our principal stopped in to check on us, we were running around the library wearing wigs, boas, and glasses.  We had a BLAST.  I just hope that the teacher can forgive us someday for riling the kids up.  At least they had lunch right afterwards.

At the end of the day, a small child yelled, "Goodbye, Queen!" as she walked out of the building.  I think my work here is done.

#spellingisawesome

I know it's been a long time.  Sometimes things just aren't that funny, and it's been like that for a while.  Or maybe something was funny, but not blogworthy.  Yes, that's a quality of humor.  But finally, here's an incident that wasn't truly overheard or in my classroom yet still blogworthy...

It will probably surprise none of you that I like to tease seventh graders impart words of wisdom to seventh graders at all hours of the day.  I have an Instagram account for this express purpose.  It amazes the children that I am aware of social media and even participate in it on occasion; also, they are mortified by my use of hashtags, which of course makes me use more of them.  I was teasing some seventh grade girls having a deep, philosophical conversation with some seventh grade girls regarding the importance of spelling last night.  Here, for your viewing pleasure, is a transcript of said conversation:

#winning  #dontmesswiththemaster  #schooled  #usingmysocialmediapresenceforgood