Merry Christmas!

The best part of Christmas are the traditions. When I come home I sleep in the same room, in the same bed, as when I was a kid. And I reread all the books I read as a kid, just to make sure they're the same. They normally are. I get less sleep at home than I do at school, because there's so much to read.

The music is a tradition. We listen to the same 5 records, all day long, that we listen to every year, on the same record player. The record player can play 3 records in a row, and then the records have to be flipped. I love it.

We always hike way up the hill looking for the perfect Christmas tree, and end up getting the one closest to the house. We cut it down and drag it down the hill into the basement, and leave it there overnight to let the snow melt off it. Then Sunday we decorate the tree with all the random ornaments that have survived over the years.

I love that we open presents on Christmas Eve, after dinner and getting everyone settled and reading Luke's account of Christ's birth. The kids pass out the presents and we open them one at a time from youngest to oldest. If extended family are visiting, this can take some time. After each gift, the reciever must get up and give the gift giver a thank-you hug.

Another treasured tradition is the making and consuming of klub (a Norweigen dish made out of potatoes). This year I was allowed to make klub all by myself, and I felt so grown up. We eat klub for breakfast, lunch, or dinner on special occasions throughout the year. Yum!

Christmas morning we open stockings. Each of us gets a few pieces of fruit, and we combine everything to make a terrific fruit salad for Christmas dinner.

Christmas afternoon we go play outside in the snow - snowshoeing, skiing, skating, hockey, sledding, etc. Then it's back inside to help get Christmas dinner ready.

Favorite traditions that don't happen every year:
When we go to Grandma Marshall's house, on Christmas afternoon we all sit in a circle, each holding a small package. We read the Night Before Christmas poem, and pass the package one person to the left every time the word 'the' is read. When the poem is finished, we can open the package we're holding. The best part about this is trying to figure out what is in each package and what the odds are of ending up with that gift.

When I was little, Grandma Childs would make up a bag for each of the grandchildren that contained 12 small gifts (a comb, stickers, an ornament, etc.). We could open one gift on each of the twelve days of Christmas. That was so exciting!

And, of course, the best tradition of all: being with family! The rest doesn't matter if we're not together. Merry Christmas, everyone!

naming the roads

Sometime in my younger years, the county started numbering the houses so that the fire department could figure out where to go in an emergency. The houses were numbered according to which mile marker was closest (yes, it's rural). A few years after I went to college, some hotshot up in the county government decided that instead of the logical system already in place, a more creative system ought to be established. Each family could name the road they lived on (there's normally only one family per road, so this wasn't a problem). Mom and Dad had a great time with figuring out what to name their road, and they finally settled on Blackberry Lane, since we grow blackberries along our road. Some roads, like ours, are fairly normal: Orchard Lane, Rocky Point Road, Pinewood Drive. Some are more creative: Lake To Sky Drive (it really does go right up the mountain), Hellroaring Road (same mountain, just going down), Lumpy Road Lumpy Road. Some did not get creative: Road 1, Road 2. Some thought they'd get fancy: Hydeaway Lane, Silver Salmon Shores Road. The ones on the Indian Reservation are interesting: Squeque Road, Kaltomee Lane, Amigo Drive (?). My favorite, so far, has been the one where the family wasn't up-to-date on their spelling: Hard Road to Ho. Oops! I'm pretty sure they meant 'hoe' instead of 'ho,' but too late now. Can you imagine writing to your friend (or living at) 1342 Hard Road To Ho? How embarrassing.

It's been snowing steadily since the night before I arrived, and we have nearly two feet now. Almost time to break out the snowshoes! Hooray for winter in Montana!

lunchtime conversation

Today during lunchtime, Mikea appeared at my classroom door (leaving the lunchroom during lunchtime is strictly prohibited): "Ms. Marshall, I need to use the bathroom."

Mikea had the opportunity to use the bathroom 15 minutes before, and had looked me in the eye and told me she didn't need to use it.

Me: Mikea. You need to go back to the lunchroom. You know we don't use the bathroom during lunchtime. Can you hold it for a few minutes until I come to pick up the class?"

Mikea: "Ok." (She leaves.)

Approximately 3 minutes pass. Mikea is at the door again (which is still strictly prohibited): "Ms. Marshall, Zy'Aire burped."

Me: "Mikea. You need to go back to the lunchroom. And stay there."

what are they thinking?

Sometimes I have no idea what kids are thinking. For example, yesterday the other pre-k teacher put her kids in line to get on the bus, just as we have done since mid-August. The entire line walked outside and got on the bus. Except for one pre-k student. Instead of getting on the bus like she has been doing for the last four months, she walked past the bus and started wandering around the parking lot. Twenty minutes later, the mother called, wondering where her child was. The kid was apparently still wandering the parking lot. The mother was furious with the teacher, but what I want to know is....what was that kid thinking?

Sometimes I have no idea what parents are thinking. For example, one of my students has not had her clothes changed or washed for over two weeks. She was really dirty. So we changed her clothes into a pair of extra clothes that she had in the classroom. The little girl was so happy to be in clean clothes. She acted so carefully all day to keep them clean. Twenty minutes (the magic time limit) after we sent her home, her mother called, enraged. She yelled at me, my paraprofessional, and the principal, who finally hung up on her. Apparently all she was mad about was that we hadn't put on her daughter's shirt (because it was too small to fit) and had given her a nice clean shirt in the right size. The mother hasn't sent her daughter to school since then. The mother isn't hurting me - frankly, its a lot easier to teach without her daughter in my class. But she is hurting her own daughter, who needs to be in school every day if she's going to make it through pre-kindergarten. If the kid can't make it through pre-kindergarten, it's going to be a rough life for her. What is that mother thinking?

sand in the water table

We're studying the four seasons at work, and this week we focused on learning all about summer. I put about a quart of sand in the water table (taken from the math resource teacher - I have no idea why she had sand), which spread out to be just enough to cover the bottom of the water table. We had one shovel that the kids had to share, and a couple buckets. I added water to the sand on Wednesday, and the kids didn't want to touch it because it stuck to their hands and they thought it was gross. Aren't these kids ever allowed to get dirty? I had no idea that the sand table would be so popular, or that so many students would have to be banned from it because they threw the sand at each other or smeared it in each other's hair. And then they would burst into tears when I made them leave, as though they couldn't believe that I would be that harsh. Apparently I am a heartless, cruel woman, delighting in their misery. The janitors thought the same thing when they would find sand all over the floor despite our best attempts to clean it up. Next week we're moving on to studying autumn, so no more sand. I guess I'll be bringing in leaves to explore on Monday.

the power of the No Child Left Behind video

In one of my GMU classes this semester, the professor brought in a video about NCLB in a high school in Baltimore. It's been fascinating; those will be my students in ten years, with all the same problems. We've all been mesmerized, and the discussion about that video has been amazing. We can't stop talking about it and how to fix some of the problems we see. The professor only shows it in 1/2 hour segments, which has been killing us. That's the only reason we come to class. I don't think that the professor realizes just how much power that video has on us. I hope she doesn't think we're so engaged because of her amazing discussion facilitating abilities. We finished the video last class period, and we were devastated. There's a rumor that the professor skipped part of it, so we're hoping that we'll be able to see it again next time, but if not, I'm not sure how everyone will get through the class period - I guess the solitaire and sudoku will be coming out. I feel a little bad for the professor when she realizes that we actually don't care about the subject matter - we just want to figure out a way to fix the problems we're all struggling with. I think she may find the discussion quite different from before.

ode to gmu

I want to make sure that the incredible ridiculousness of this all is recorded for future posterity. As part of the Teach For America early childhood cohort, I'm in the Early Childhood Education Curriculum and Instruction master's program at George Mason University. Teach For America is also part of AmeriCorps. As an AmeriCorps member, I am eligible for an education award that can be applied to my George Mason tuition. To get the education award, I contact AmeriCorps and request money to be sent to George Mason. They send the money, and then GMU has to accept it. That's the easy and efficient part. Now comes the good part.

(Prepare yourself.)

Since any reasonable student would expect GMU simply to accept the tuition money that AmeriCorps sent them, time is passing and the first the student realizes that something is wrong is when they are hit with a late fee for not paying their tuition. With a great deal of investigation, the student finds out that GMU, for whatever reason, has given AmeriCorps the wrong office to send the money to. As a result, GMU won't accept the money until the studentcalls them and asks them to accept the money. (What??) Then the money is in the wrong office. It really would be too easy and efficient for GMU to simply send the money to the right office, or even (heaven forbid!) giving the right information to AmeriCorps in the first place.

At this point, the student doesn't know that the money is in the wrong office, and again assumes that all is well - until fined again because they haven't paid tuition. The student, through more agonizing investigation, learns that the student has to call GMU (again) and ask GMU to mail the student the money. GMU then writes a check and mails it to the student, who must take the check to the bank, deposit it, and write out a check of their own and mail it to the correct office at GMU. Is this not the most unbelievable process for any institution to engage in? It has to be mail; faxing or online payment through credit card is not accepted (perhaps because it would save too much time). Since the process relies entirely on mail, it takes several weeks. Meanwhile, the student is fined again because tuition has not been paid or (in some cases) the tuition is sent to a collections agency.

Whomever thought up this procedure has to receive the award for the most difficult way to pay tuition. Or perhaps this is a really awful way for GMU to get extra money from all the late fees they collect from unsuspecting students or even knowing students who fall victim to GMU's inefficiency. After three unsuccessful attempts to pay tuition in a timely manner, I am again attempting to navigate this process. I contacted AmeriCorps in October (I thought I'd get a head start on the process) and got the money sent to GMU. The money sat there for two months, despite my phone calls to get it mailed to me so I could write a check back to the correct office at GMU. However, for unknown reasons, GMU has rejected the AmeriCorps money. Good thing AmeriCorps notified me, or I wouldn't have known. Looks like I better start saving my money to pay late fees.

school policy

Email received from the Pupil Personnel Worker:
"It is State and County policy and procedure for school staff to mark students present if they are present in school (see definitions in policies) and absent if they are absent from school. This is a very serious situation and I hope you will view it as such."

If anyone was wondering what to do with those attendance sheets, this email should have cleared up the confusion.

What's even better is that apparently this email was needed enough for it to be sent.

slight misunderstanding

I now have a nickname. I've never had one that stuck before, but this one's sticking. It started with a few people assuming I was Black while taking attendance (an understandable assumption, since everyone else is Black), and the name has stuck, mainly because people think it's funny that someone as White as I am would ever be mistaken for Black. I now answer to the name Shawana (it would be spelled Scha'Wannah if I were truly Black) as well as to the shorter and accurate Shawna. At least I know what I'd be called if I were born Black.

walking back from lunch...

Last week I was walking my students from the cafeteria to my classroom after lunch. We were lined up outside the classroom and Mikea started vomiting - profusely - all over the hallway. And it wasn't just once - we're talking four or five good vomits. I've had students throw up before, but never quite so energetically or with so much quantity. I asked my paraprofessional to grab the trashcan, and I got it under Mikea for the last one or two heaves. Well, the rest of the students were still standing in line, fascinated by the sight of Mikea displaying everything they had for lunch. Then the smell started to hit, and some of the other kids began sympathy-vomiting. So I was standing in the hallway, one hand over my nose so I wouldn't throw up as well, trying to get the trashcan under whichever student was gagging. I felt a bit like a basketball player, trying to be anywhere the action was. Eventually most of the students either had emptied their stomachs or been ushered into the room by my paraprofessional, while I escorted Mikea and the other vomiters to the nurse to get cleaned up. Occasionally one of them would give a hiccup or a cough, and I'd leap to get the trashcan under them. I suppose I was a little jumpy, but who wouldn't be if they just survived a rash of vomiting in the hallway?

I think I can

Today after lunch, I read the students a story about animals, and we were talking about the various characteristics of each animal. I illustrated on the white board when the pictures in the book weren't sufficient (ex. the webbed feet of a duck). I was trying to show them how a frog can croak by putting air in a pouch in his neck, and the students wanted me to draw it on the board. I'm good at stick figures, or occasionally a farm animal, but beyond that, my skill rapidly deteriorates. Often I'll tell my students what I'm drawing, and that eliminates a lot of problems. For example, I'll say, "This is a horse. See, here's the mane, and this is the tail." Anyway, it's hard to draw a stick-figure frog. I said, "I don't think I can draw a frog." Cycret replied, "Uh uh, Ms. Marshall. You need to say, 'I think I can, I think I can.'" I laughed, because she was right. We'd been having problems with students whining, "I can't" when I asked them to do something, so we'd read The Little Engine That Could and really discussed how to face challenges. So I then modeled what I had taught them to do, and I drew a frog on the board. And I must say, it was a beautiful frog. I amazed even myself, and I haven't brought myself to erase it yet.

brief, but complete

I think I've become a little too efficient. There are a few other TFAers in my certification class offered by the county, but most of the participants are veteran teachers who are renewing their certification. We had to give a presentation that consisted of a literacy lesson as though we were giving it to our students. We were to provide copies of our lesson plan and any handouts for everyone in the class. Those presenting before me teach upper grades, and they were teaching guided reading lessons, creative writing, and high-level thinking activities. Their lesson plans consisted of packets of paper and lots of other impressive-looking handouts that they passed out periodically throughout their lesson. My lesson plan was half a page, composed of three sentences and a couple bullet points. When it was my turn, I went up to the front of the class, handed out some puppets, read a book to the class, and sat back down. That's my literacy lesson. If I can get my 4-yr-olds to sit through an entire story, my lesson is a raving success. There weren't a lot of comments on my lesson (maybe because there wasn't much to comment on). There were a few other pre-k teachers in the class, although they present next week. As soon as class ended, they started laughing at me because my lesson plan was so short. I had everything in my lesson plan that I needed, but I doubt that the teacher appreciated my brevity.

is it snowing? NO.

Two days in a row this week it rained during recess time, so we had to stay inside for recess. This is a killer for both me and the students. They have to behave, and I have to try to figure out a way to get their energy out in a way that is still quiet and orderly. The next day it didn't rain, and I was so excited. We bundled the kids up and marched them outside. I opened the door, and it was snowing. Well, barely flaking, but around here that constitutes as nearly a snowstorm. Now, I love snow. I adore it. Winter is the best time of the year. But I was horrified. If it's snowing, it's technically too cold for the kids to be outside (ridiculous, yes, I know). But I desperately wanted the kids outside for recess that day. So I ignored the snow and brought the kids out for recess. The kids were ecstatic: "It's SNOWING!!" Me: "No, not really. There's a flake or two, but it's not really snowing." If I admitted that it was snowing, I'd have to take them back inside. So I continued to downplay the reality of the weather until it was time to head back in. I felt bad about putting a damper on their excitement, but at least we were outside for recess. That's all that really mattered, anyway.

I'm thankful for...

In recognition of the coming holiday, we wrote a list of things yesterday in class that we are grateful for. I told the students what we were going to do, but I clearly didn't do a good enough job of modeling what I was looking for, because the first response was, "I'm grateful for Spiderman!" I wrote it down. The other kids took their cue from the first one, and we soon had a list of all the superhero and cartoon characters known. After they had exhausted the supply of cartoon characters, one girl varied slightly from the format and said, "I'm grateful for my Cinderella dress." I was so excited. I said, "Clothing! Great!" and wrote it down.

Little girl: "No, I'm grateful for my Cinderella dress."

Me: "Yes. That's clothing. We need clothing to keep us warm."

Small but stubborn girl: "No, I'm grateful for my Cinderella dress."

Larger and stubborn teacher who is holding the marker: "Yes. Clothing. Great job. Anyone else?"

Since we didn't quite meet the objective I had in mind, we tried again the next day. I did a better job of modeling. Me: "For example, I'm grateful that I have food to eat and a place to sleep." It went better, although we got a lot less responses. Apparently I had not understood the relative importance of superheros and cartoon figures.

time management

Saturday we had TFA professional development, a five-hour ordeal composed of three different sessions. Two of the three are elective workshops, which are chosen several days in advance, normally during times when one is most busy and doesn't want to be bothered with reading through what each workshop entails. For the first session on Saturday, I had signed up to go to a Time-Saving Tips class. When I walked in, the class was full (40 or 50 corps members) and only one of them was a second year. Apparently we were the only two second years who hadn't gotten our act together. Everyone else had already figured out how to save time. We thought it was pretty funny, and continued to waste time by not doing the assigned work through most of the session After all, who wants to learn how to save time when one has successfully lived the last 26 years in happiness without it?

birthday party gone awry

Friday was J's 5th birthday. His mother had called the week before and asked if she could bring cupcakes for the class. I said of course, told her what time snack was, and didn't think more about it. I didn't think J's mom would forget, but I didn't think it would be a big deal. The kids would eat the cupcakes with their snack, sing happy birthday to J, and head home. Well, J's mom did bring in the cupcakes - and ice cream, and the whole works. She had brought enough for both pre-K classrooms, so the other class came in with us, and all the adults were running around pulling up tables and chairs and putting down special birthday napkins and bowls for the ice cream and everything. J had a special HUGE cupcake, with candles in it, so all 34 kids had to wait until J had made a wish and blown out the candles (I'm not sure candles are allowed in a school) before they could eat their cupcake and ice cream. The waiting, I think, was pure torture for them. We had finally gotten everything settled (by now normally we'd be cleaning up snack) and the fire alarm went off. We rushed both classes outside and waited, and waited, and waited. Someone must have pulled the fire alarm, cause it took forever for the janitors to ring the bell to let us back in. By the time we got back in, it was time to go home, and the kids still hadn't eaten their cupcake and melting ice cream. The adults again scurried around, yelling EAT! EAT! to disgruntled children and rushed them through the cleaning-up-and-getting-backpacks-on process and ran them out the door as the buses were getting ready to leave. All in all, I'm not sure that J's birthday went quite the way either his mother or I had thought it would. But I think it will be one of the most memorable birthday parties I've hosted. The best part about it, I think, was that J and his mom had made the cupcakes from scratch, including the icing. They had put so much food coloring into the icing that it stained the kids' skin. And of course, none of them could eat a cupcake without getting it all over their faces. So no matter how we tried, nearly all students had blue, red, orange, or green stains covering their nose, mouth, cheeks, and chin. It looked like we had put muzzles on the children and sent them home. The provoked teacher strikes again.

a quick stop by the bank

Yesterday I went to the bank to get a cashier's check. I was woefully unprepared: I naively thought I'd be able to access my money armed only with my checkbook. Since the money was mine, I'd be able to use it, right? Ah, how young and innocent I was. While standing in line, I was instructed to have my Special Bank ID Card on the ready. As soon as I got to a teller, I should hurriedly swipe my Special Bank ID Card, which would enable both of us to pretend the other was inanimate and reduce actual human interaction. Unfortunately, I didn't have my Special Bank ID Card, which was my first mistake. I should have recognized the warning and quietly exited without further embarrassment. Uninitiated as I was, however, I ignorantly stayed in line and eventually reached a teller, who seemed annoyed that I didn't have my Special Bank ID Card - at least, that was my impression of her face through the 2-inch-thick bullet-proof plate glass that made her face blurry and her heavily-accented, murmured words indistinguishable. Throughout our conversation, I think I asked her to repeat every statement she made at least twice, and I stood on my tiptoes and raised my voice to make sure she (and by default, everyone else) could hear me, adding to the drama of the moment.

Once we had established that I didn't have my Special Bank ID Card, I had given her my full name, social security number, date of birth, and current address, she asked what I wanted. I told her I wanted a cashier's check. She raised an eyebrow and asked, "How are you going to pay for that?" Evidently the obvious answer (with the money in my bank account?) wasn't going to fly. So after some pondering, I held up my checkbook and hopefully said, "with a check?" The teller looked disapproving, but didn't say anything, so I thought perhaps I might get my money after all. I wrote out a check to myself and slid it through the crack in the glass apparently designed for that purpose. I was glad that I had asked for a cashier's check and not cash, since it would have been a little painful to take one bill at a time through the crack. The teller took my check and asked me to swipe my Special Bank ID Card. Either she had forgotten the earlier conversation or she was hoping that I had just been kidding about my lack of a Special Bank ID Card. Unfortunately, I hadn't. Then she asked for my driver's license, which I pleasantly shoved through the crack (it's a little thicker than a piece of paper, so it was more difficult). Then she asked for a birth certificate or passport. I was so startled by this request that I glanced through my purse as though hoping my passport would appear in some hidden compartment (honestly, who carries around a passport or birth certificate when they're going to faculty meetings held in an unsafe neighborhood in a car that may decide to retire peacefully - or not peacefully - at any moment? I mean, really.). When I regretfully informed the teller that I didn't have a passport or birth certificate with me, she slid my check and driver's license back through the crack (one at a time - I suppose that they both wouldn't have fit at the same time) and said, "Looks like you'll have to come back another day." Apparently my full name, checking account number, social, birthdate, address, and driver's license wasn't enough for me to get a little ole cashier's check. Forget the risk of being mugged - I better start carrying my passport around on the off chance that I'll need to stop by the bank. At least my money's safe. I don't know if I'll ever be able to get to it, but it's safe.

Does America have a gender?

This summer most of my students are native Spanish speakers, and sometimes their English is minimal. In addition, some of them are so far behind that even though they're two years older than my pre-k students, I'm teaching the same information. Yesterday we had a party for the 4th of July with my students, so I was trying to explain to them why we celebrate the 4th of July. They really got the part about it being a birthday, but the whole 'nation' idea was really throwing them off. I thought I was doing a pretty good job until one of them asked, "Is America a girl or a boy?" It really was a smart question, given that we'd just been talking about birthday parties, which only people have, in addition to the fact that in Spanish the ending 'a' in 'America' would typically indicate a female gender. However, it was pretty clear that they weren't getting it. I gave up and decided that I'd done a good job exposing them to the concept, and they'd understand it better next year.

I have eyes in the back of my head

The other day Jabari and Jaylen were hanging out on the carpet watching me while I cleaned up the classroom. They started fooling off, and I turned sharply and looked at them. Jaylen said, "You have eyes in the back of your head, don't you?" I said, "but of course! I hide them behind my hair." Jaylen said, "my mom does, too." He seemed pretty matter-of-fact about it, and that was the end of it, but Jabari, who thinks I don't know how much he goofs off, looked really concerned about this new development. That was the end of the discussion, but Jabari watched me pretty closely the rest of the day, and he moderated his behavior a lot. I remember at summer training in Philadelphia one of my teachers started detailing how much we'd lie to the students, and I didn't believe it. Then again, I never thought that one of my students would believe that I really did have eyes in the back of my head.

shoelaces

Pablo came in to school a few weeks ago and announced that he had learned to tie his shoes. This has been an ongoing process all year, and he has good small motor skills, so I wasn't really surprised. Something bothered me about what he was doing, but it wasn't until this morning that I really watched him and saw exactly how he was tying his shoes. As soon as he sat down on the carpet every morning, Pablo would undo his beautifully tied shoes. He'd then go through the process of retying them, which consisted of knotting his laces together until there wasn't any string left, and then tucking the ends under. I must say, this is one of the most effective ways of tying shoelaces that I've ever seen. They definitely don't come undone! I even got Pablo to pose for a picture of his tied shoelaces. And I must admit that it's creative. None of the other students have come up with this solution.

dress code woes

Yesterday William came to school in a thin cotton t-shirt, which is pushing the dress code limits, which consists of a white shirt (button-up or polo), and navy pants. He also has a tendency to chew on his shirts, and as his teeth are broken and chipped, they’re really sharp. While some of his other shirts can withstand the treatment, this flimsy little t-shirt couldn’t handle the pressure. After the first 20 minutes or so of class, the whole front of his shirt was soaked and drooping. Ms. Stewart tried to call William’s mom to get more appropriate clothing, but no one answered the phone (surprise, surprise). After soaking his shirt, William began to gnaw on the bottom of his shirt. He would bite a hole in the shirt and then play with the hole. By lunch time he had ripped the bottom three inches off his shirt off with the exception of about a 1/2 inch of fabric in the very back that held it on like a tail - which he used to whip the other kids with. I finally ripped off the last 1/2 inch of fabric and threw away the bottom part of his shirt just before lunch. William sported a midriff shirt until 15 minutes before the buses arrived, when his mother sent up a more appropriate shirt for him. Luckily I didn’t get in trouble for William so blatantly disregarding the dress code. I doubt that M.H. Elementary School has seen this fashion statement very often – and thank goodness!

Deondre's gift from his mom

Yesterday during morning meeting (the first part of the day), Deondre raised his hand and said that he had something in his backpack for me. The kids know that anything they bring to school for me (notes from home, permission slips, etc.) come out of the backpack before they even put the backpack away. And Deondre has a habit of going to get something out of his backpack and then playing back there and distracting the rest of the students. So I gave him a hard time about this. He kept affirming that it was very important and that it was from his mom and I needed to have it. Finally I let him go get it out of his backpack. He came back with a well-used pink toothbrush. It still had dried toothpaste on the handle. He held it out to me and looked up and very seriously said, "My mom says you can have it." This was apparently a very important gift. I didn't want to reject it, but I didn't want to touch it, either. I finally thanked him for it and told him that he could keep it at home for me. He went and put it back in his backpack and hopefully took it home. I tried to keep a straight face, but couldn't quite do it. It was so unexpected and incongruous. I wonder what really happened at home that morning when he was taking his mother's toothbrush to school. Would she have let him take it if she knew Deondre was going to present it to me in front of the class? It's probably one of those things that I'll never bring up when we discuss Deondre.

attempting to deter unwanted behavior

During quiet time, I require the students to put their heads down on the tables and close their eyes. Some get bored and begin amusing themselves at the tables. Since there are dire consequences for having one's head up or eyes open, they find ways to play around while seemingly keeping their heads down and eyes closed. The latest is to spit on the table and then smear it around. (Disgusting, yes, I know. My definition and my students' definition of disgusting differ, however. I think spitting on a table is gross, but they like to play with the bubbles. However, saying that a dinosaur was the size of a chicken brings a resounding "Ewww!" from the children). Anyway, I caught Daija spitting on the table during quiet time. So I made her wash the tables during center time instead of being able to play with her friends. Jayden saw what she was doing and asked if he could help. I told him no, that Daija had to clean all the tables because she was spitting on them. He said, "Can I clean the floor? I was spitting on the floor." I told him that the janitor would do it. I don't think that the lesson would have worked very well on him, anyway. Hopefully he won't start spitting on the table in order to get to wash the tables - I'd have to come up with some other consequence for him.

Joy School

Here is my funny story for the day, which is really my sister's story. Tori (my niece) is going to Joy School, a preschool, where they sing, "Tori, please stand up and let us see your smile, we are glad you came today, please stay a while." They do this for each child. Well. Tori doesn't stand up, or smile. Instead she tilts her head to her shoulder, says "No!" and gives a nasty look.

My sister tells the rest: "Mia (Tori's little sister) and I left but later this afternoon Mia came in to me and said, 'Mom, I want to go to Goy Kool and have them sing that song and go like this:' she tilts her head to the side and gives a mean glare.

'What?' I asked, not really seeing her and paying attention to other things. She repeated her request this time singing the song. I said, 'Oh, that would be great!' Mia said, 'No Mom, I want to do this there' and she tilted her head to her right shoulder and glared. I burst out laughing which earned me the 'DON'T MOM! DON'T!'

Over dinner we talked about how ladies should be happy and how the best response to the song should be standing up and smiling. So, we all did it. Tori's version, which Mia now copies, is a smile with the shoulders up to her chin, head tilted, arms crossed and locked hands. I was just glad a smile was involved."

my weekend adventure

My roommate Cat and I went to a dance last weekend, naively assuming it would be like any regular dance. We were wrong. Very wrong. It was like prom...in a cultural hall...with very few couples. I think Cat and I were about the only ones without dates. If that wasn't awkward enough, it wasn't long before Cat saw a boy that she had been trying to avoid. After a buildup of a game of limbo (can you imagine?) and a choreographed dance to the YMCA song by about six navy boys (all in their cute navy uniforms and cummerbunds), one of the navy boys proposed to his girlfriend. Everything was great until the MC noted that the newly engaged couple had met at this very dance two years ago. Suddenly everyone was on the prowl. After all, it had worked for these two...you never know...one's future mate may be at that very dance, just waiting. Meantime, Cat had noticed that a boy that I was trying to avoid had been sneaking up behind us. That was the last straw, and we fled. I don't think I've ever exited a dance as quickly or with such a sense of relief. I'll investigate a dance more thoroughly next time before showing up.

playing catch with Pablo

The weather is getting nice, and the students are becoming coordinated enough that we've started bringing out kickballs to recess. It has been a huge success, and it's great to see theirs abilities improve. The best game is playing catch, with variations in not bouncing the ball, or bouncing it once or twice between the two people. Of course all the kids want to play catch with me, and a lot of them haven't quite grasped the concept that I only have two arms with which to catch balls. My coordination has improved, as well, to juggle six or seven balls coming at me at varying speeds and varying amounts of notice beforehand. Pablo, who is quite clever, has discovered a new strategy to monopolize my attention. He moves around behind me when I am 'playing catch' with about six other students, and lobs a ball at my head. He then calls out "Ms. Marshall!" a fraction of a second before it hits me. So, if I turn immediately, I have a chance to catch the ball or move out of the way. If not, I get smacked in the head with a kickball. Operant conditioning at its best: it hasn't taken me long to be quick to move as soon as I hear Pablo's voice. Unfortunately, he has pretty good aim.

hair cut

My hair has been getting too long, so one of my roommates trimmed my hair over the weekend. I really didn't expect my students to notice, since they can be little egocentric at times. Well, apparently they notice hair. When Aiyanna saw my hair, she was shocked and horrified. "Ms. Marshall, you cut your hair!" "Yes, I did." "But why?" "Well, because it was getting too long." "But why?" I couldn't give her a satisfactory answer. Throughout the day, she would periodically come up to me and say, "but why would you cut your hair?" and once I overheard her say to Amari when they were working at the writing center together: "But I just don't understand why Ms. Marshall would cut her hair." So far Aiyanna is coming to terms with my shorter hair style, but I won't underestimate her observational skills again.

the thrill of the circus

The government paid for us to go to the Ringling Bros. Circus. It was the first time I'd been to the circus, so I was excited. Deondre was a little confused about what we were doing. He kept asking we were going, and once we got to the Verizon Center he wanted to know when it was going to start. I told him we would know when it would start because an announcer would tell us when it was starting and what was going. As I had told him, the announcer came out and the lights went out and the show started. It was really exciting: there were tigers and tightrope walkers and flying trapeze artists. In the middle of all of this, Deondre turned to me and asked when it was going to start. I told him that it had already started. He said, "but where's the movie screen?" I told him that we weren't at the movies, we were at the circus. He said, "but there's not even a round twirly thing!" "A ferris wheel?" "Yeah. There's not even a ferris wheel." "Deondre, we're not at the carnival. We're at the circus. Look at the tigers and the trapeze artists!" He apparently wasn't impressed - or even interested. He slept through the whole thing. But, you know, it was nice of all the taxpayers to give Deondre the experience of going to the circus.

a more effective method

Lately some kids have started swearing in class, more because they get lots of attention from the other kids than because they really mean it. The last few times I've asked if they know what the word means, and they don't. So I try to explain what it means and how bad it makes everyone feel. Today, though, I had the strongest temptation to tell MaShia that the specific words she was saying meant that she wanted everyone to kick her - hard - in the shins. I think that may be more effective in eliminating the swearing problem.

"he did it!"

Today just before specials I had the students drawing a picture of something they would see in the city or county and labeling it. As I came over to their table, Amari and William (my new student) were in a heated debate about whether Amari had snatched a crayon from William or whether William had said Amari could use it. They were in a "she did it!" no, "he did it!", no, "she did it!" type of cycle. The pressure apparently became too great and William's grasp of pronouns suddenly broke down, so it became "he did it!" no, "he did it!" no, "he did it!" From the expression on his face, William was trying hard to disagree with Amari, but couldn't figure out what was going wrong. Since they were agreeing, I redirected them back to what they were working on, and that was the end of it, but I've never seen anyone try so hard to disagree and be so frustrated that he couldn't do it.

is it raining?

This morning, as I was driving to the temple, I was stopped while merging off the Beltway onto Georgia Ave. It had rained yesterday and all night, but it had dried out this morning and was beautiful. The car behind me had his wipers on full blast. They were going so fast that I thought it was raining, and I looked out my window just to make sure I wasn't missing something. But no, the sky was clear and the roads were dry. Then I thought perhaps he was using his window cleaner. But he had his wipers going the entire time we were stopped, which was way too long to just clean the windshield. The driver looked pretty anxious, too. Maybe that was because his wipers were surely squeaking as they went furiously back and forth. It was such an unexpected sight that it gave me something to laugh about as I circled and circled the temple parking lot looking for a spot.

working it out

Today Aiyanna approached me while I was working with Deondre and Jaquan and informed me that Jima'Ya wasn't sharing the books in the library center. Not wanting to interrupt instruction, I told Aiyanna that it sounded like something that they needed to work out together, and turned back to Jaquan and Deondre. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aiyanna go back to the library and lean threateningly over Jima'Ya, who was sullenly slunk down on a bean bag awaiting the verdict. Aiyanna put one hand on her hip and sternly shook her finger at Jima'Ya and announced, "Ms. Marshall says you need to work it out!" It sounded more like an aerobics instructor than coherent directions, but it apparently resolved the issue, since there were no more complaints. Maybe Jima'Ya was intimidated by Aiyanna's body language, or perhaps the accusatory tone and the term "work it out" was enough to quell Jima'Ya into submission. I made a mental note that Aiyanna clearly didn't understand her part in the process of "working something out" for something to discuss some other day.

The photo is of Aiyanna. If I'm not giving her my complete attention, she'll say, "Come on, Ms. Marshall!" or "I'm ready." She's a saucy little girl, but she's almost always very happy, too.

perverse motorists

When the weather is good (ie. traffic is flowing pretty well), I'll use the Beltway around D.C. to get home from work. Although it's a little longer than other routes, I like it because there are fewer stoplights, and I turn right at all the intersections. There is one particular intersection that has been posing an interesting dilemma, however. I turn right, so when the light is red, I stop and then pull forward a little bit so I can see around the cars in the other lanes. For the last several days, I've noticed that when I pull forward, the cars in the other lanes inch forward, too, so they're blocking my view again. If I move forward again, they do, too. The light is still red for them, so they have no reason to move forward - and they only do it after I've moved. Maybe they don't think it's fair that I get to move and they don't, so they're taking their anger out on me by keeping me from seeing past them. I can just imagine their thoughts: "Oh, you want to see past me? Well, take that! And that!" Or maybe they think it's funny: "heh heh...now what's she going to do?" Meanwhile, the cars behind me, who can clearly see that no one is coming, are wondering what my problem is. I wonder how far forward the cars in the other lanes would go if I kept inching forward. There's a thought for tomorrow.

not quite rebellious

Jabari typically has a two-inch fro. Yesterday he came to school with his hair in braids, which is common among my students, but something that he hasn't done before. I'm not sure whether it is because of the texture of his hair or because it's not long enough, but his hair wasn't braided very tightly. There were little tufts sticking up here and there, and everyone kind of giggled when he walked into the room. By halfway through the day, one of the braids had come undone. His hair stands straight up, so he was strutting a perfect tomahawk. He's kind of the class rebel, anyway, so it fit with his personality, but there was one problem: the tomahawk wasn't down the middle of his head, it was about two inches off the center. So instead of looking rebellious, he looked lopsided and a little top-heavy, as though he was about to careen off his path and crash into something just off to his left. He spent the rest of the day that way, and the students kindly didn't mention his altered appearance. I don't know what happened when he got home, but today his hair was braided again, still with the little tufts here and there. Today all the braids stayed in, but I'm looking forward to tomorrow. If the braids come out, I will make sure I get pictures.

vehicular convulsions

On my way to church this morning, I stopped at an intersection and waited for the light to change. It was a long light, and I noticed an ambulance also waiting at the stoplight (without its lights on). Suddenly the driver of the ambulance started "rocking" the vehicle by easing off the brake and then stomping on it again and again, so that the whole ambulance began jerking back and forth. It looked like the vehicle had suddenly gone into convulsions. It continued convulsing for several minutes until the light turned green and we both went through the intersection. It looked like those kinds of things that you see teenagers do with their buddies....and something that I never thought I'd see an ambulance doing. Who knows...maybe they were in desperate need of ambulance drivers this morning and had to fall back on their teenage volunteers.

good impressions

I submitted a final paper on Thursday for a grad class that I was hoping to test out of. It was a pretty good paper, too. And I had a moment of horror this morning when I realized that the final paper I had emailed to my professor still had notes to myself in it. Specifically, I had typed "Add more here" in one paragraph and "Jabari had an MLU of 5" (which was a grossly inaccurate statement only meant to remind me to figure out what the MLU was) in bold, oversized font. Yes, it was a great impression on the person I was trying hardest to impress. It reminds me of the time when I did a similar thing on a stats paper - except I had "This does not make sense" typed in bold in the final copy emailed to my professor. I even had it highlighted in yellow to make sure it wouldn't be missed. I clearly have difficulty doing a final proofread on papers I submit online.

snack and dismissal

The last 20 minutes of the school day is an interesting time. I am ridiculously busy trying to complete progress charts and notes to send home to parents, while trying to get the room cleaned up for the day. Meanwhile, the kids are having a great time. Their day is over, they're eating something unhealthy (the issue of P.G. County food for poverty-level children is something I'll leave for another time), and the level of supervision is low. In other words, a great time to get attention from Ms. Marshall. They really are quite sneaky about it. I even realized today that they have come up with an unspoken plan of attack. They wait until I am working on something so that I won't nip their attempt in the bud by making them sit down again. First, one child will approach me. Typically it will be a child that has been following directions well that day, so I won't summarily dismiss them. The ploy also works well if it is the child about whom I am writing a note, since they can make a reasonable request to know what the note says. Once one child has successfully approached me, it is safe for one more child to come and watch, as long as they don't say anything. Once this is accomplished, two more children can come up and also watch. This tactic continues until either a child breaks the rules by speaking or until I suddenly am overwhelmed by the amount of human contact and send them all back to the tables. It only gets worse when snack time is over and they must gather their backpacks and coats. Now I have just given them a great excuse to wander around the room.

Snack and dismissal are also great times for random comments. For example, today Aiyanna said, "Ms. Marshall, you look like a snake!" Jayden quickly responded, "No she doesn't! She looks like a lion!" Clearly neither of these children have yet learned that it's not a compliment to be called either a snake or a lion. The class immediately got into a heated debate over whether I looked more like a snake (because I have green eyes) or a lion (because I have yellow hair). Neither side won, because I told them all to finish putting their folders in their bags. For the record, I don't have either green eyes or yellow hair. They're more hazel and light brown, but I suppose with only black hair and black eyes to compare mine to, the students don't have a very accurate frame of reference.

Eloquent...or not.

Sometimes I know just what to say. Today we had an assembly for Black History Month. I was crammed between Obeechina and Daija on tiny cafeteria-table seats trying to keep the 11 kids on my row quiet during the hour-and-a-half program. At one point, Obeechina whined, "I'm tiiirrrrreddd." That wasn't hard. "Great. Then you can sit quietly and listen."

Then again, sometimes I have no idea what to say. At one point Obeechina glared at me and said, "Someone breathed on my cheek. I don't LIKE it when people breathe on my cheek!" He continued to glare at me while I floundered for possible responses. I really didn't know how he would react to the obvious fact that it was either me or Abraham that had breathed on his cheek. I opted for an eloquent "Hm." Apparently he felt vindicated, but I'm still wondering what kind of response he expected. Next time I sit next to Obeechina I'll be more prepared for random accusations.