I have one of those kids this year whom it’s really hard to get mad at because: 1) He’s funny, and 2) He just can’t help it. Really. When someone says something, and he reacts, you can almost see the marionette strings being yanked as he does one of those double-take head shakes like in the cartoons. He’s just thought of something to say…so out it comes. He has this almost stream of consciousness patter going sometimes, and it is as fascinating to watch and listen to as it is disruptive. Today I called on him for an answer, partly because I wanted to yank his strings and bring him back to reality, and partly because I could see that he had the right answer on his sheet. So I thought it was win-win. No dice, cheese slice. “Tyrell? How about number four?” “Umm. Ok. I got this one. Let’s see…(pretends to peruse paper carefully; even pretending to put in a monacle or something, and scrunching up his face in concentration and stroking his invisible goatee) Ok… That’s a compound sentence. That it is. Like a compound bow. Man, those things shoot far. I saw once…” “D’oh! Tyrell. That’s a simple
Middle school teaching: Five shows a day, 180 days a year.
