After almost 20 years of doing this job, I’d like to think I sort of know my way around the junior high psyche. Plus I remember 7th and 8th grade like they were yesterday, and some might still accuse me of being a seventh grader yet. But every now and then…well, I got nothin’. Sometimes I have no idea what is going on in their heads. It’s actually one of the fun things about this kind of work. Last week we were again slogging through prepositional phrases. I was going around checking their pink sheet homework. The pink sheets are about the only thing I use from the vast array of materials provided with our hefty literature anthologies. They are basic grammar and punctuation worksheets, and after we go over them in class, we use clickers for other exercises, and watch some grammar rock and such. This week’s sheet on prep phrases had a section on placing them near the words they are modifying. You veterans know from the old misplaced modifiers and “dangling participles.” (“Don’t let your participle dangle” is right up there with “Don’t let your meat loaf.”) You know like, Johnny mailed a letter to his gramma
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“This will be both the easiest and the hardest writing assignment of the year.” “I’m confused.” OMG…If there’s a motto for this year’s crew, that’s it. When last we met, my kids and I were reading Langston Hughes’s “Theme for English B,” and I was assigning them the same task that introduces the poem. “OK. Let’s look again at the assignment in the poem.” Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you— Then, it will be true. “What does he mean by the word ‘true’? I mean obviously he means not to lie or make up stuff, but what does he really mean?” Eventually we get around to the idea of something truly personal and important. “I want something only YOU could have written. I want to be able to read that paper and go…’That’s Marcia!’ without even looking at the name. Or go…’whoa THAT’S Marcia? I had no idea.’” They start moving their limbs randomly and their facial muscles don’t quite know what to do either. “Bbbbbbut… Do we write about what we like? Or how we ride the bus home from school?” “Does what you like make you what you are? Does your
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(I can’t believe I didn’t talk about this one last year. This is one of my fave writing assignments. Though the range of quality is all over the map, even the “not so good” ones are usually entertaining to read. Anyway…) “Hi, my name is mrC, and I’m an English teacher who doesn’t especially like very much poetry…” There, I admitted it. I don’t do a “poetry unit.” I don’t assign the kids to write poems (shiver), except as an option on novel final projects, and then I make them meet with me first and run ideas and rough drafts by me. I do admire good poets’ ability to cram a whole lot of meaning into a few words, and there are some poems that just complement our reading so well, so we do read and discuss some poetry: e e cummings (check out this one), some Robert Frost (obviously), and my personal fave: Langston Hughes. I read somewhere that Langston Hughes was one of the first black men in America to make his living entirely from his writing. He didn’t just write poetry; he wrote short stories and plays and essays too. His work is accessible, yet has depth,
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Just a little circle-time sharing… One of my classes just loves to share. I keep telling them I don’t care, but…they keep sharing anyway… I’ve had to institute the “WTP?” rule. What’s the point? “Last night, I ate Chinese food.” “Thanks for sharing. And the point is…?” “Ummm. I thought the Kung Pao chicken was tasty. But it was realllly hot.” “Still waiting…” “Ummm. The point is…if you eat Chinese food, you should probably order Kung Pao chicken, but make sure it’s not too hot.” sigh. But every now and then, they share too much, even for them. One period a day has an extra 10 minutes for school bidness and handing out paperwork and etc. Any extra time, they want to spend sharing. A while back, during “circle time,” we were talking about nicknames. “I have a nickname for pretty much every one of you.” “What’s mine?” “You don’t want to know.” “I hate nicknames. In elementary school they called me Pi_ er Diaper.” (I swear, I still can’t even type it without cracking up. That just rolls off the tongue.) After everyone in the room had expired from laughing continuously for five minutes, I managed to say, “You
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I don’t what your thoughts are on grade-grubbers, but I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I guess it’s good that they care about the grade so much, and are willing to work hard to get what they want, but more often than not… well you know what I’m talking about. “Is there extra credit on this assignment?” “What if I write more than a thousand words for 600 words? How much extra credit will I get?” “If SSI people have to do definitions for vocabulary, is it extra credit if you don’t have SSI and do them anyway?” “What if I write two pages for KBAR? (the requirement is one) DO I get extra credit? What about three?” “Can I rewrite the essay and get 75/75 instead of 73?” It can kind of wear you down after awhile. This year I have another true-blue grade-grubber. I have a couple wannabes too, but only “A-Rod” makes it his mission to be #1. To keep his overall percentage over 100. To finish first on every test and quiz. To take advantage of every opportunity and loophole in the system. Last year, I had to change some extra credit and exemption
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This afternoon, I asked my friend and colleague, in his experiences with junior high, how many times he could remember seeing two seventh grade boys hugging. Sincerely. “Like a man-hug, or a real one?” “What’s a man hug?” “You know, you start out with the soul shake, and then you pull in and sorta bump chests, and then the other hand sorta slaps the back.” “Not that kind.” “Ummm. None.” “I knew it. It was a first for me too!” Milk and Cheese, the “True That” boys, were at it again. They were moving their desks closer together (again), like they like to do, and jabbering nonsense. Nothing major, and technically it was before class, but I said, “Well the quarter does end Friday, and I change up the seating chart every quarter, so next week I get to move you guys far, far apart.” One of our recent vocabulary words was crestfallen. I should have taken a picture of them to use as an example. Milk holds out both arms pleadingly (and it if it wasn’t sincere, he should be an actor) and says, “But…But…But… What about The Team?” OMG. The class is dying. Half of them are happy [...]
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That reminds me of those great SNL skits about the Sofa King. You know, how the prices are "Sofa King" low, the deals are "Sofa King" great, etc. (You obviously have to say those phrases out loud to get the joke.)