I love the third grade. They are adorable, sweet, enthusiastic, and most importantly a tad bit gullible. This morning we played a game called Two Truths and a Lie in an effort to get to know one another better. The game consists of each person in the circle sharing two "truths" about themselves, and one "lie." The idea of the game is to guess which of the three statements told is a lie. Most of the students told "lies" that were so outwardly absurd, it was impossible not to pick out the lie. (Example: My dad invented pigs, I am seventeen, and I climbed a mountain this morning before school). I thought that I would follow my students' lead, and follow the same pattern. These were my truths and my lie.
1. I have been a teacher for 4 years
2. I have one older brother and one younger sister
3. On the weekends, I work as an auto-mechanic fixing cars.
For the exception of ONE student (who said that I looked too clean to be an auto-mechanic--thanks Chelsea!) they all guessed that "I have been a teacher for 4 years was my "lie."
I mean, what 25 year old female teacher wouldn't want to pick up some extra shifts at an auto shop?
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Only 159 more days...
Day six here in the third grade. I am so exhausted, that if I were to close my eyes right now, I'm pretty sure I'd be asleep in less than 30 seconds. Those of you reading this who are teachers understand the amount of energy it requires in order to keep up with kids (and their boundless bundles of energy). Teachers need energy not just to spend time with kids, but also to manage them, to ask them to keep their hands to themselves, (and off the walls when we walk through the halls), and helping to them to negotiate the rules of an intense game of Connect Four.
Earlier today, I announced to the class that I would be starting our read aloud book. The kids erupted in a cheer. ( I thought that they were cheering because they really like the book). Jimmy raised his hand. I called on him and he said, "Oh! I just love how you read out loud with such great expression!" Wow. Want to know the key to my heart? Tell me that you think I'm good at reading out loud. (And, if I do say so myself--I am a pretty good out loud children's book reader).
Just a few short moments later, once I was done reading, Chelsea came up to me and told me that her tummy hurt. I asked her why? She replied, "well--it could be gas." She paused for a moment, and appeared to be pushing one out--and said..."yeah, it was just gas." (Side note: the area around my desk slowly began to smell like baby diarea). Adding insult to injury, shortly after that Kevin blurted out, "oh my god--look what just came out of my mouth!"--before I could tell him that whatever had just come out of his mouth, I did not want to see-- Kevin unfolded his hands to reveal a large, green phlegmy boogery substance. It took every ounce of self control I had not to slap him in the face while simultaneously vomiting both in, and out of my mouth. Is it June yet?
Earlier today, I announced to the class that I would be starting our read aloud book. The kids erupted in a cheer. ( I thought that they were cheering because they really like the book). Jimmy raised his hand. I called on him and he said, "Oh! I just love how you read out loud with such great expression!" Wow. Want to know the key to my heart? Tell me that you think I'm good at reading out loud. (And, if I do say so myself--I am a pretty good out loud children's book reader).
Just a few short moments later, once I was done reading, Chelsea came up to me and told me that her tummy hurt. I asked her why? She replied, "well--it could be gas." She paused for a moment, and appeared to be pushing one out--and said..."yeah, it was just gas." (Side note: the area around my desk slowly began to smell like baby diarea). Adding insult to injury, shortly after that Kevin blurted out, "oh my god--look what just came out of my mouth!"--before I could tell him that whatever had just come out of his mouth, I did not want to see-- Kevin unfolded his hands to reveal a large, green phlegmy boogery substance. It took every ounce of self control I had not to slap him in the face while simultaneously vomiting both in, and out of my mouth. Is it June yet?
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Tales of a Third Grade Nothing
Aaaand, it's official. School is back in session. Now that I have had 1.5 days of the third grade under my belt, I felt that it was time to compose a blog entry of the events from the past day and a half.
As most of you know, I have taught the 4th grade for the past three years. (That's ages 9 and 10). But this year, I am teaching third grade. (Change of scenery, if you will). These kids are 8 going on 9-- and some of them (the ones with those late birthdays) are still 7! Can you remember what it felt like to be seven? So while seven and eight year olds may not seem like a big age difference from the 4th grade-- believe you me--developmentally it is--and my students seem like tiny little peanuts. Adorable, but tiny little peanuts none the less.
I have eleven students. Eight boys and three girls. Eight of my students (thus far) are adorable, precious and sweet. The other three students range from mild-freak-a-zoid, to severe freak-a-zoid lacking any and all social skills. Also this year, I will be using faux names my students. ( For I greatly fear being fired).
One of my students-- let's just call him Chucky, had an eventful summer. He visited his aunt and uncle on their farm in the mid-west. His uncle brought Chucky outside to milk one of their cows. Chucky milked him alright--using his mouth. That's right, Chucky sucked the udders dry on some poor cow. How do I know this? Chucky's mom decided that this was noteworthy information, and e-mailed me with this news the day before school started. So, if I didn't already think he was a freak ( after talking to his teachers from last year) I fucking do now.
An aside: All of this cow milking got me to thinking about my 7th grade Halloween costume. I came dressed to middle school as cow. Not your average cute cow costume, but I came dressed in a cow costume, that had rubber udders covering my entire abdomen. I spent the entire day avoiding the 8th grade boys who shouted,"can I suck your udders?" at me. What was Little Mimi Girl thinking letting me leave the house in such a vile costume?
Another one of my students, Chris--asked me where the president lived. I told him that the president lives in Washington DC.
NO, he said, his face turning into a scowl. I could see from his expression that I wasn't quite understanding his question. Just then the principal breezed past our room. His face lit up. He pointed at her--The president! Where does she live?
Oh. The Principal? Yes, her office is located on the second floor.
I overheard Jimmy calling someone a "bozo." Anyone who uses the word bozo in 2009, is a-okay in my book.
While completing a drawing assignment on the first day of school, a group of students broke into "We will rock you" complete with desk banging. I told them that they had to lower their voices. "Do we have to stop singing," they asked? I struggled with answering this question. While I felt that their singing may have been distracting to some of my other students, I thought who doesn't like to hear a good Queen ballad at nine am? And, thus--I told them they could sing as long as they did it quietly. While walking around the room, I heard soft whispers of "We Will Rock You."
And lastly, a berage (is that a word?) of the random, funny and interesting things that I have overheard in the past day and a half.
..."I don't have a dad, I have two moms, because my moms hate boys!"
...Said to me..."Did you have red hair when you were seven?"
...My mommy told me that being tired isn't a reason to go to the nurse."
...and lastly, when reading out loud the directions for the classroom scavenger hunt that I had created for the kids to do, one of my students who has a lisp, shouted out--"Thith ith lame!"
Shot down. By a seven year old with a bad speech impediment.
As most of you know, I have taught the 4th grade for the past three years. (That's ages 9 and 10). But this year, I am teaching third grade. (Change of scenery, if you will). These kids are 8 going on 9-- and some of them (the ones with those late birthdays) are still 7! Can you remember what it felt like to be seven? So while seven and eight year olds may not seem like a big age difference from the 4th grade-- believe you me--developmentally it is--and my students seem like tiny little peanuts. Adorable, but tiny little peanuts none the less.
I have eleven students. Eight boys and three girls. Eight of my students (thus far) are adorable, precious and sweet. The other three students range from mild-freak-a-zoid, to severe freak-a-zoid lacking any and all social skills. Also this year, I will be using faux names my students. ( For I greatly fear being fired).
One of my students-- let's just call him Chucky, had an eventful summer. He visited his aunt and uncle on their farm in the mid-west. His uncle brought Chucky outside to milk one of their cows. Chucky milked him alright--using his mouth. That's right, Chucky sucked the udders dry on some poor cow. How do I know this? Chucky's mom decided that this was noteworthy information, and e-mailed me with this news the day before school started. So, if I didn't already think he was a freak ( after talking to his teachers from last year) I fucking do now.
An aside: All of this cow milking got me to thinking about my 7th grade Halloween costume. I came dressed to middle school as cow. Not your average cute cow costume, but I came dressed in a cow costume, that had rubber udders covering my entire abdomen. I spent the entire day avoiding the 8th grade boys who shouted,"can I suck your udders?" at me. What was Little Mimi Girl thinking letting me leave the house in such a vile costume?
Another one of my students, Chris--asked me where the president lived. I told him that the president lives in Washington DC.
NO, he said, his face turning into a scowl. I could see from his expression that I wasn't quite understanding his question. Just then the principal breezed past our room. His face lit up. He pointed at her--The president! Where does she live?
Oh. The Principal? Yes, her office is located on the second floor.
I overheard Jimmy calling someone a "bozo." Anyone who uses the word bozo in 2009, is a-okay in my book.
While completing a drawing assignment on the first day of school, a group of students broke into "We will rock you" complete with desk banging. I told them that they had to lower their voices. "Do we have to stop singing," they asked? I struggled with answering this question. While I felt that their singing may have been distracting to some of my other students, I thought who doesn't like to hear a good Queen ballad at nine am? And, thus--I told them they could sing as long as they did it quietly. While walking around the room, I heard soft whispers of "We Will Rock You."
And lastly, a berage (is that a word?) of the random, funny and interesting things that I have overheard in the past day and a half.
..."I don't have a dad, I have two moms, because my moms hate boys!"
...Said to me..."Did you have red hair when you were seven?"
...My mommy told me that being tired isn't a reason to go to the nurse."
...and lastly, when reading out loud the directions for the classroom scavenger hunt that I had created for the kids to do, one of my students who has a lisp, shouted out--"Thith ith lame!"
Shot down. By a seven year old with a bad speech impediment.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Mike-Jason Uno-Dos-TRES
Hello gang.
A quick update here. After much speculation and wonder, I have in fact, heard from Mike-Jason again. Even though, I forgot his name, and later his face--Mike-Jason has looked past all of that, and called me on the actual telephone.
More to follow soon...
A quick update here. After much speculation and wonder, I have in fact, heard from Mike-Jason again. Even though, I forgot his name, and later his face--Mike-Jason has looked past all of that, and called me on the actual telephone.
More to follow soon...
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