When I was a rookie, I was always on the lookout for some sort of regular activities that would happen every week, and give me some sort of skeleton to hang the rest of the week on. When you’re a noob, that 54 minutes show looks mighty long and hard to fill. When I started here, they already had a few of these sort of things in place department-wide. Nowadays (as the kids say) I would chafe at the idea, but back then I was stoked to have some of those minutes already filled. “OK. Monday we have a spelling pretest (the lists were even provided back in the day…and probably will be again soon…sigh), we all had to do a current events thing of some kind (I liked that one…hmmmm), we checked KBAR on Fridays…” KBAR? Wait. I just realized I already ‘splained the history of KBAR back in 2008, when this here blog first started. So here you go. (December, 2008.) When I started at my school (1993), they had an independent reading program they called Kick Back and Read (KBAR). Mostly, it was a chart with a picture of Snoopy on it. Actually there were two kinds
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When I was a kid and lived and died baseball (I gave it up forever after the ’99 strike), I bled St. Louis Cardinal red. And growing up in suburban Sacramento like I did, the only chance I would ever get to see my beloved Redbirds was when they would come to Candlestick Park in San Francisco (90 minute drive) to play the hated Giants. And one of my fave memories of going down to see them is the guy selling programs outside. “Ya gotta hava program! How you gonna watch da game if ya don’t hava program? Ya gotta hava program! Ya gotta hava program. Hey kid! Ya gotta program? Ya gotta hava program!” What was this New Joisey guy doing in SF? He talked like Archie Bunker. I loved it. My friends and I must have put dozens and dozens of different words in place of “program” over the years. Brainstorm and discuss possibilities. It has to be a two-syllable word. Then I moved here, and went to a few Dodger game down in SmellA, and realized that that guy used the same shtick. I still loved it. Where I’m headed with this near record-length intro is that middle
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Back-to-School sales have been going strong for weeks already. My boy went school supply shopping. My wife has already broached the subject of me buying some fresh shoes and shirts for once this year. I start teaching a new class in five weeks, and I don’t really know at all what we’ll be doing on the first day, let alone for a whole quarter. And only five weeks until we find out just how we will cope with my boy being in my class. ZOMG! So today’s summer rerun features my son and soon-to-be student. This one is from April 2009. I’ll be back at the end with a bit more. I was a teacher long before I became a parent. In fact, I balked at parenthood for a long time at least partly BECAUSE I was a teacher: “Why don’t you have kids, Mr C?” “I do. I have 150 of you every day.” Luckily, I was finally persuaded, and now I have a wonderful son. My boy is almost 10 now. In two years, he will most likely be in my class. I’m not sure how that’s going to play out. If you’re still reading this blog then,
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(Around these parts, just like on tv, summertime means reruns. This is from last September.) You all know the type. They might as well just walk in the door with their hand up. Actually some sort of do. They are the question machines, also known as IHAQ’s (pronounced I Hacks). “I have a question.” They have a question about EVERYTHING, many times BEFORE you even start talking. I have a couple of serious IHAQ’s this year. One girl would be a lock to win one of those challenges on Survivor where you have to keep your hand over your head or your bucket of water puts out your fire or something. I have a question. Actually I have four. Is that ok? One: Why do they always say, “I have a question”? Of course you have a question; that’s why you raised your hand. And if you have a comment, rather than a question, you can still just raise your hand, and make your comment. You don’t have to preface it with, “I have a comment.” It’s like those kids who think a conclusion to an essay sounds like this, “…And that’s why I think cheese-making should be an elective in the
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When my eighth graders were reading Flowers for Algernon, they all laughed at Charlie’s spelling in the early Progris Riport (sic) entries. It happens every time I do that story. But as you all know, Charlie ain’t got nothin’ on your typical middle schooler when it comes to creative spelling: radickulus begging (for beginning — Boy Howdy, I hate that one!) probly Satin-worshiping ballune But while reading their one page samples of their research papers in progress, one girl… Hold on. I have to interrupt this post with another brief aside. The girl in question here has made great progress this year. I hear that last year, as a seventh grader, she was the epitome of S and R (sullen and resentful: the teenage default) as well as defiant and etc. She also lived through some things as a kid that no one should have to, and is now being raised by her sister. But she is a sweet girl, who really just needs a dad. Anyway, today she was turned around jabbering with her friend while I was trying to give directions, and I called her on it. I got the perfunctory (vocab word for seventh graders this week)
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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.)