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	<title>Teaching The Outsiders (and more) &#187; St. Mel&#8217;s</title>
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	<description>Middle school teaching: Five shows a day, 180 days a year.</description>
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		<title>mrC&#8217;s 7th Grade Report Card</title>
		<link>http://teachingtheoutsiders.com/mrcs-7th-grade-report-card/</link>
		<comments>http://teachingtheoutsiders.com/mrcs-7th-grade-report-card/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 18 Nov 2011 05:41:26 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>mrC</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[grades]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Me]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[St. Mel's]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://teachingtheoutsiders.com/?p=2666</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Of course my parental units also had to visit for my fittieth. (I tell the kids that as a certified English teacher, I have a license to make up and misuse words. Most of them believe it.)  And here&#8217;s Mom sporting my 7th grade report card from the school year 1973-1974. So let&#8217;s deconstruct this &#8220;artifact.&#8221; &#160; First it comes in one of those tight-fitting envelopes with the little curved notches in the top for ease of sliding the card out. Mom didn&#8217;t spring for a yearbook that year, so the envelope has a bunch of signatures and a couple of &#8220;see ya next year&#8217;s.&#8221; It&#8217;s also signed by Dean Martin, right above my best friend&#8217;s signature. I don&#8217;t remember Deano hanging out at Mel&#8217;s. I think that&#8217;s the logo for the diocese. We were the Saints, but we didn&#8217;t have a logo. 1. Old school typewriting, typed by our school secretary (mom of a classmate, and as scary as the nuns). St. Mel was St. Patrick&#8217;s cousin. 2. Dunno why the COWARD is in all caps. She does that on the inside too. Now, let&#8217;s look inside. 1. There&#8217;s that all caps thing again. Must be intentional. 2. Knowledge of Religion. Catholicism from [...]]]></description>
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		<title>His Father&#8217;s Son. (Also: Collaboration.)</title>
		<link>http://teachingtheoutsiders.com/his-fathers-son-also-collaboration/</link>
		<comments>http://teachingtheoutsiders.com/his-fathers-son-also-collaboration/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 20 Oct 2010 03:20:38 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>mrC</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Guest artist]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Me]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[St. Mel's]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Tips]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://teachingtheoutsiders.com/?p=2216</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This past weekend was my parents&#8217; 50th wedding anniversary party. (I was the firstborn son, so you can do the math as far as age is concerned.)  I actually drove to Sacramento for the weekend. It all went smoothly. I&#8217;ll spare you the recap, except&#8230; Before the party on Saturday night, there was a renewal of vows ceremony at the church. Near the end of the ceremony, the priest called for the four brothers and their families to come up and group around the original happy couple. So we&#8217;re all crowded around up in front of the church, and the priest does a blessing of some sort. Then there&#8217;s a lull, a moment of quiet&#8230; BRRRRRRRAPPPP. My 11 year old boy rips a nice, loud one. I&#8217;m just going to leave that hanging for a minute, while I flash you back almost 40 years. Little mrC is in about 5th grade at St. Mel&#8217;s, and he and his friends are getting a little fidgety and giggly in Mass. Sr. Enda turns around and gives us the Exorcist stare, and whispers through clenched teeth that we need to show more respect in the House of the Lord. We last about five minutes. This [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>The New (but really old) Quiet Stick</title>
		<link>http://teachingtheoutsiders.com/the-new-but-really-old-quiet-stick/</link>
		<comments>http://teachingtheoutsiders.com/the-new-but-really-old-quiet-stick/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 06 Oct 2009 03:12:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>mrC</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Me]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Quiet Stick]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[St. Mel's]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://teachingtheoutsiders.com/?p=1464</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[&#8220;The school-master, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on &#8216;Examination&#8217; day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now &#8212; at least among the smaller pupils.&#8221;  -Mark Twain in Tom Sawyer There is a common misconception about the nuns back in the day. Everybody assumes that they did their all their whackin&#8217; on us with rulers and yardsticks. That is untrue. They only used rulers on us if it happened to be during math class when we were measuring something. Otherwise it was THE POINTER. The nuns at St. Mel&#8217;s never deigned to actually touch the chalkboard, or the chalk for that matter. The dust might soil the habit. (Our nuns even wore the old school wimples, with the stiff, high cardboard up front.) So they used chalk holders to write with, preloaded by one of us assigned to the task. They used us to erase the boards and to clap out the erasers. (The latter was actually sort of a coveted job, because it got you out of class for 5 minutes or so&#8230;even if you did come home yellow and sneezing.) And they never [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Confession</title>
		<link>http://teachingtheoutsiders.com/confession/</link>
		<comments>http://teachingtheoutsiders.com/confession/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 30 Sep 2009 05:34:31 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>mrC</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Me]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[St. Mel's]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[TV]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://teachingtheoutsiders.com/?p=1433</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Regular readers of this blog (I think there are a couple of you) know that I did the Catholic school version of junior high; first through eighth grades at one school. I had a nun for a teacher six of those eight years. And I just realized today at lunch &#8212; Monday is chicken and mashed potatoes day&#8230;mmmmm&#8230;taters &#8212; that I didn&#8217;t have a male teacher until ninth grade. Then, all of a sudden, I have a math teacher who has me &#8220;by the short hair&#8221; and an English teacher who throws erasers at us if we turn our heads away from him. Dunno what that might mean, but I do know that a lot more of today&#8217;s kids need a father-type figure in their lives. Who has them by the short hair, so to speak. Anyway, we were &#8220;introduced&#8221; to the idea of confession in second grade. I&#8217;m sorry if I&#8217;m offending anyone, but even then,  I was like..Hello? I don&#8217;t think I&#8217;m going to go tell a stranger all the bad things I did, or even THOUGHT about doing. Not exactly the way the second-grade mind works. Or seventh-grade. Or&#8230; Especially if you had brothers like mine.  I [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Flash(way)Back II</title>
		<link>http://teachingtheoutsiders.com/flashwayback-ii/</link>
		<comments>http://teachingtheoutsiders.com/flashwayback-ii/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 13 Feb 2009 05:19:17 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>mrC</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Me]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[police]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[St. Mel's]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[stories]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://teachingtheoutsiders.com/?p=884</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Ok, back to my story.  So after the fine phone call that started my Friday, I go up to the office to let the secretaries know that a representative of our city&#8217;s finest might be paying me a visit. First they think I&#8217;m joking, they they start razzing me, &#8220;Cops comin&#8217; for you again Coward?&#8221; &#8220;Same same since seventh grade.&#8221; &#8220;What?&#8221; It was 1974, and I was late for school. I hate being late. For anything. Even school, even then. I was riding my bike as usual, and in 1974, we didn&#8217;t wear helmets, let alone worry about which side of the road we were riding on, and we thought stop signs were for cars and losers. Today, the road I was on the wrong side of is 4 lanes wide, and the light I ran controls one of the busiest intersections (the cross street is 6 lanes now) in my old hometown. Back then, it was a mere 2 lanes (plus the turn lane) I was crossing against the light. I got across without a care, though that was probably because I didn&#8217;t look. I was looking a block ahead, and I could see them lining up outside in [...]]]></description>
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