Highlights

*A parent is angry with me because her son received a failing grade on a project that was photocopied from a book.

*I am listed as the "teacher of record" (meaning that my name is on the report card) for a class that I do not and have not ever taught. When I realized that I was informed of this a week ago, I told our Dean of Instruction who told me to talk to our tech support guy (who handles our electronic grading system) who told me to talk to another pseudo-administrative-type person who told me to talk to our Dean of Instruction who then told me to talk to our principal, who had been CCed on all of these e-mails to begin with. I did not assign the students grades for the class that I do not teach and have not ever taught, which I felt was legitimate. And yet today . . . my name was on all of those report cards as the teacher of that class. The grade was blank. I had the incredibly fun job of explaining to parents why their child did not receive a grade for the class without seeming incompetent or being disrespectful of other teachers/administrators at my school.

*And in the middle of all of the above, we were supposed to be grading benchmarks.

The Internet Room

The wireless internet only works in one room of our school: the copy room.

This means that I spend much of my planning time hanging out with my laptop on my lap, huddled in a corner with the other teachers who need internet to write lesson plans (or, in this case, write a blog entry).

We're also out of paper.

But it's kind of all worth it when, in the middle of a lesson, I ask my students if we can confirm or disconfirm an earlier prediction and one of my students answers, "No, because we haven't reached the story's climax yet."

They listen sometimes. And learn things.

The Exodus begins

Two teachers are leaving.

This is not comparable to a "normal" job, when people frequently leave and are replaced.

An exodus of teachers means emotional students who feel like they have been abandoned by an adult they cared about (or like they ran off a teacher they didn't like). It also implies an increased teaching/planning load for everyone else.

I want to stay positive- I do love most of my students- but it might be time to start sending out resumes.

Oops . . .

This might not SEEM directly related to teaching, but I promise that it is.

I was sitting in my living room earlier this evening, grading papers and finalizing a few lesson plans for tomorrow, when I heard the incredibly obnoxious and slightly nauseating sound of . . . a cat in heat.

More specifically, MY cat in heat. My male cat. Chasing my female cat. And, well, I won't provide any more sensory details (you can use your imagination).

The downside of being a a teacher at a charter school with an extended school day: you can't do things like, well, get your pets fixed. Soo . . . I'm hoping I'll be able to squeeze in an emergency pre-Thanksgiving vet appointment. Or find an incredibly generous friend to drop my cats off at the vet one morning. Or maybe take them to a vet that will board them the night before? The dilemmas I face.

Temporary solution: praying really, really hard that I don't go from owning two cats to owning 8 cats.

Teacher Dance-off: Results

I lost the first round. Not only was I not surprised, I also was not disappointed. As much fun as it was to completely humiliate myself in front of almost 200 kids once, I had no desire to repeat the performance. It's kind of a once-in-a-lifetime deal.

The highlight of the entire ordeal, however, was not while I was dancing. We judged the contest in a fashion similar to that of American Idol. While we had a panel of four judges, the winners were actually determined by crowd applause. As our Physical Education teacher was getting the kids ready to cheer if they thought I should win, one of my favorite students got a little ahead of herself and screamed, "YES SHE DID." Except that no one else was cheering yet. It was a little solo love for her advisory teacher.

Probably embarrassing for her, but endearing for me. Extra credit, anyone?

On a side note- I bought a really cute dress this weekend for a friend's wedding in December. SO excited!

Notes

I intercepted a note in class. I was mean about it, too. I even (briefly) considered reading it out loud to the entire class-- the way one of my teachers did when I was in sixth grade. I'm kind of glad that I didn't, because when I DID read it, later, I felt like a jerk.

This is what it said:

"It is not cool to lose. Especially in class. We need to learn and get education. If we don't we probably won't make it to college."

My kids, despite being KIDS and playing around and being silly from time to time, are brainwashed.

Teacher Dance-Off

We are having a teacher dance-off tomorrow.

Those of you who know me (and I think that's everyone who reads this), know that I am a bad, terrible, God-awful dancer. I'm currently teaching my kids about figurative language, so when I first referred to myself as the world's worst dancer, I immediately thought, "hyperbole." Then I realized that it might not be a hyperbole. I might actually be the world's worst dancer.

And yet, during afternoon advisory, I let my kids teach me how to dance. Hilarity followed. It was loud, crazy, and maybe a little riotous. But it was also really, really fun. I made a complete fool of myself in front of my students-- something that I don't think I've ever honestly done before.

We'll see where it gets me tomorrow. ;)

Big Changes, Small Moments*

I think everyone who reads this also talks to me on a regular basis. But in case you don't, my new dream school has undergone a few minor changes. Mainly, our principal was removed. It's been truly amazing for me, as someone very interested in educational reform, to see how much a shift in school leadership really matters. It's not the same school I began working at in July. And I suspect that when our new principal is hired (right now we have an interim), it will feel like an entirely different school again.

I was really struck by the difference in school culture yesterday morning, when a small group of students returning from a conference presented their chants to the student body. Nobody was extremely rude, but the lack of enthusiasm was overwhelming--the contrast from the beginning of the school year was just so stark.

So sometimes, as an educator, you have to look for small moments to sustain you. Little things kids do or say that can get you through the day or week or even the month.

Yesterday, I had one of those moments during lunch. I ended up watching the "lunch bunch," a group of students who eat lunch upstairs. There were about six students, and for the most part they were being loud and silly. They talked about what they want for Christmas and what they were planning to do on their day off. Toward the end of the period, though, one student realized that their reading teacher had forgotten to give them their open-ended question for the week. After discussing this for a few moments, the general consensus was, "Don't remind her, OK?"

Then one of my favorite students, D.P., responded, "Why don't you guys ever want to do work? Don't you want to go to college?"

My heart melted. He was probably just saying it because he likes me and wanted to earn a few bonus points, but it kind of made my day anyway.

*I know it's a cheesy title. Leave me alone.

Do I really work here?!?!

I used to ask that question because I dreaded going into work, knowing that something crazy was bound to happen.

Now, I ask that question because I can't quite believe that it's true.

I can't stop talking about our kids and coworkers. My colleagues are smart and professional; our students are adorable and SO excited to be at school. I asked a student today if he would be at school with his teachers until 5:00 (students were dismissed at noon), and his response was, "I wish!"

It blows my mind. And is incredibly, incredibly motivating.

New year. New School. New inflection. Same blog. :)

Hater Blockers

I found this picture on my cell phone- a memory of one student's attempt to block "haters."

School is OUT!

I finished the year, told everyone goodbye, and officially "left my job" on Facebook. What could possibly make it more official than that?

I definitely experienced a range of feelings in the hours following those final moments at school-- but they were complicated by other events, like returning the rental car I had for over a month even though my car still isn't fixed, coming home to pack for my upcoming trip to Georgia, and realizing that with the end of the school year comes the end of my Teach for America experience.

Now I have to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life.

But since this blog has been primarily devoted to my life as a teacher (and not a human being), I'll probably keep writing about school-related stuff over the summer. Memories of my kids, thoughts on pedagogy, word-for-word recitations of conversations I've had about education. Scintillating stuff, I'm sure.

And while I'm thinking about it, I really want to share this one particular memory.

Yesterday, I ran into one of my students from last year, who is now in 2nd grade. He always reminds me of our "handshake, hug, or high-five" routine. Each morning, I greeted my students at the door with the question, "handshake, hug, or high-five?" and they chose how they wanted to be greeted. Most of my first-grade babies would enthusiastically respond, "ALL THREE!" and we would proceed to shake hands, hug, and then high-five. This particular student, however, would instead respond, "ALL TWO!" with equal enthusiasm. He didn't like shaking hands-- he just wanted a hug and a high-five. I often thought about explaining to him that the phrase, "all two," didn't make sense. I mean, he wasn't asking for all of the options. And even if there had only been two options, it would be more appropriate to respond with, "both." But I never had the heart. I mean, who would remember the kid who said, "I'd like a hug and a high-five, but not a handshake"? Exactly.

Randomness (with pictures!!)

Just wanted to share some "graphic design" my kids have been working on in the computer lab. . .





And some pictures one of my students took at the farm . . .



Moo . . .



"You guys act like you've never been to a farm before."
"We HAVEN'T been to a farm before! We're city kids."



"Yo, Ms. Jenkins, Mr. Crooke's brother be CUTE! He has those deep dimples!"



And a random, (somewhat) forgotten quote:

"Ms. Jenkins, you need more pizza than that. We're black kids. We're GREEDY."
Note: "Greedy" in this context refers exclusively to food.

last days

For the past few weeks, I've kind of been "done" with school. It's been sort of like living life in a holding pattern-- you've "arrived" at your destination, you can SEE it, but you aren't actually there. You're just hanging out, flying in meaningless circles (triangles?), waiting until someone says, "ok, you can land now." Except in this case, I've been waiting for someone to say, "school is over now."

Except this week, I've sort of broken the tradition position of, "how many more days?" I haven't been teaching anything, or even attempting to teach. I'm done, remember? Instead, we've been playing educational games and cleaning out the room. I'm playing games with my kids, and watching semi-educational movies- you know, the kind that are based on literature we've read or have a good message. I've been spending time with my kids, just talking to them about what they want out of life.

I've also told them that I'm not coming back to our school next year, and have been fielding questions/trying to explain to them that I'm NOT leaving because of them.

But what I'm realizing is that I should have done this a long time ago. I should have spent a lot more time enjoying my kids' company, getting to know them as people and not just students, and listening to the things they really care about. Because basically, my kids are pretty amazing (and hilarious) people.

Today, at the end of the day, I got permission to walk to Barnes and Noble with one of my students. I wanted to take her to Barnes and Noble so I could help her pick out a math workbook to review over the summer. Over coffee (and a Pepsi), she told me that she was thinking last night about all of the times she's yelled at me or not followed directions or been rude or whatever . . . and how amazed she is that I'm still there, trying to help her.

I don't flatter myself by claiming to have changed someone's life, but I really do hope that my perseverance has had some sort of impact next year. Honestly, if one kid pays a little more attention next year and takes her education a little more seriously, this whole year was worth it for me.

And hopefully, in September, I'll remember to listen to my kids and enjoy hanging out with them from the beginning of the year, instead of waiting until June.

If you pay me $2, I'll stay at home!

At the end of school today, one of my students came over. I had given him $1 for "beating me" in a Sudoku competition (I was helping other students, not actually competing, just for the record. Unlike most of the people on that TV show, I AM smarter than a 5th grader, and most 6th graders, too). He put his hands on my shoulder, and said, "Ms. J, if you give me $2, I won't ever come back to school anymore. I'll be absent every day for the rest of the year! I promise!"

Maybe I need to stop being so transparent about my frustration that ALL of my students are still showing up (I only had TWO kids absent today-- better attendance than yesterday or Friday).

I do enjoy spending time with them, it just gets so loud with all of those kids in my room!

We're all professionals, right?

My classroom phone rang at 10:45 this morning. "__________'s mom is here to see you. She says you'll wait until you bring your class down for lunch."

So after I dropped my kids off for lunch, I went to the front desk. After taking care of a few details, I walked over to the student's mother. She was standing with his aunt and an administrator.

As I began to greet then, I was met with the administrator's hand in my face-- think "talk to the hand, 'cause the face ain't listening," circa 1992-- and (I swear, this is word for word) "You need to stay out of our conversation, Ms. Jenkins."

To which I replied, "I'm sorry, I received a call from the front desk saying that _____'s mother was here to see me."

I was then told that it was inappropriate to have a conversation with a parent in the middle of the hallway, even though she had been having a conversation (the one I was supposed to stay out of) with the same parents in the hallway only moments before. So I took them upstairs, to my room, where we had a very pleasant conversation about how _____ is very smart, but plays too much and is behind academically because of it.

Apparently, they received a letter yesterday saying he wasn't allowed to come back to our school next year. I don't know anything about that. Seriously. I guess that was another conversation I needed to stay out of.

Last days of school

So I have a confession to make-- on Friday, June 13, with 5 days of school left, I asked my students a very simple and yet unprofessional question: "Who needs to give me a hug goodbye because this is their last day of school?"

I expected at least 5 kids to inform me that yes, it was their last day of school. It's customary for most students (or at least half) to simply skip the last week of the school year. And yet all 15 of the students present that day (I guess I DID have 4 students absent) informed me that they didn't need to say goodbye yet-- they planned to be at school each and every day during that last week.

Part of me was really disappointed; that means more kids to babysit/entertain during the final days of the school year. It also means we need more structure and I have less class time to spend cleaning out my closet and boxing up books to take home.

But another part of me cherishes these last few days, the few moments I have left with these 19 students I have had the privilege of teaching for these 183 days.

And now. . . Friday's highlights.

I threw a surprise party for my students on Friday afternoon-- I pulled two students out of their music class to help me set everything up. We walked to my car first, to retrieve the chips, cookies, plates, cups, and napkins I had hidden there. When we got to the car, one of my students immediately jumped into the backseat, saying, "I want to see what it feels like in Ms. Jenkins' car! This jawn (see urbandictionary.com) be bangin'!"

As we carried everything back to the room, these two rather rambunctious young men began eagerly (and voluntarily) cleaning the classroom, setting everything up. While they worked, we also talked. One of them suggested I play an elaborate practical joke on the class-- he decided it would be hilarious if I taught 7th grade the following year, and chose to have all of the same students in my class. On the first day of school, I would tell them that they had all been retained and would be in my 6th grade class again. They also discussed which of my students would cry first/loudest.

I took that as an opportunity to tell these young men that I will not be returning to our school next year. I was worried that they would a) be excited or b) think I was leaving because of them. Instead, the other student responded in this way, "Why are you leaving, Ms. Jenkins? I bet you're leaving because you'll make more money. You don't need that money. I bet those other kids will drive you crazy. You'll be coming back here, begging us to let you be our teacher again."

They then began to talk to me about what I had meant to them as a teacher, and ways that I had impacted them ("No other teacher really, you know, worked with me like that," etc.).

They also started talking about how they live a block away from each other, and hang out together, and get in lots of trouble. They go to the movies together, too, and apparently almost always get kicked out of the theater. I responded simply, "And that's why I don't go to that theater."

When the other kids came back, I made them stand silently in the hallway for a few extra minutes, convincing them that they were in trouble. When they came into the classroom, music was playing, they could smell the pizza, and I had written, "Congratulations, 205 A! Average reading level in September: 5.12. Average reading level in June: 7.2."

As excited as they were about the party, I think they were more excited about the growth in their reading levels. I few kids said, "So that's two years- that means we met our goal!" Another kid said, "I'm surprised- I can't believe these kids actually learned something!" Then we had a party . . . an hour of eating and talking and dancing and laughing. An hour of remembering why I love my kids and being in the classroom.

Late night phone calls

Last night, I was sitting at home, reading and getting ready for bed, when I heard my phone ring. I thought it might be friends, encouraging me to change my mind and meet them at a bar somewhere. I also thought about getting up to answer it, but decided it wasn't worth the effort.

This morning, I checked my phone and was surprised to note that the phone call was from an unidentified Philadelphia number. I give my cell phone number to my students' parents, but I rarely hear from them on weekends, and even more rarely still after 11pm. Anxiously, I checked the voicemail, ready to hear a screaming parent complaining about something I had either said, done, not said, or not done. I mean, if you're going to call a teacher at 11:14pm, it must be a big deal.

Instead, I heard one of my students, obviously in tears. "Ms. Jenkins, this is ________. Can I please retake my test so I won't have to go to summer school? I'll try my best. I promise. Please don't make me go to summer school. Call me back on my cell phone. The number is xxx-xxx-xxxx."

I have two thoughts on this:

1. Stop yelling at other students during class. This will make teachers more willing to help you.

2. This child, to his credit, does ALL of his assignments. He turns in all of his homework. He reads at home every single night. And yet he still reads below grade level. As much as we hate labeling students "special ed," sometimes they DO need special services. And our school should provide them without (necessarily) requiring that kids attend summer school).

What the school needs

An anecdote from another teacher:

Our school librarian (a black woman without a college degree) has figured everything out! To fix our school, she thinks we need to fire our assistant principal (who is a black woman). In her place, we need to hire a white man. Then, we will have two different administrative points of view-- the black point of view and the white point of view.

She is serious about this proposal.

My kids think they're SO smart

A teacher-friend came to visit my classroom today. I would like to say it's because he wanted to see me, but I know it's really because he wanted to print something (I have one of the only computers in the school networked to the copy machine). His entrance was met with excited whispers and an audible "ooohh" from several of my students.

"Ms. Jenkins always be flirting with him!"

To which he responded, leaning toward me, "Hi, honey," before asking if he could use the computer.

As he walked across the room, a group of giggling, gawking young men continued making mildly inappropriate but mostly just interested comments. "Jealous," he retorted, before proceeding to pull up the documents that needed to be printed.

After he left, one of my students informed me that she had asked him if he liked me. "He said, 'I don't want to say too much 'cause I might get somebody in trouble,'" she told me.

Another student responded, "Ms. Jenkins, we know y'all two go together. Why don't you just tell us?"

Then I overheard, from another table, "But she flirts with Mr. Crooke, too. I wonder if he knows." (And then, putting me back in my place, "Mr. Crooke do NOT like her.")

You're right. You got me. I'm dating a gay man whose boyfriend is more fabulous than I could ever hope to be. Congratulations, 12 year olds, you have figured my life out.

Ms. Jenkins, please come to the front desk

First thing this morning. Before the announcements had even come on. So I walked downstairs, worried that I had somehow offended a parent or administrator or co-worker and was about to be rudely and publicly chastised (it's happened before).

Instead, I'm told that my car has been hit. Fabulous. Made more fabulous because, oh wait, I'm STILL driving a rental car.

The car is mostly fine; someone rear-ended the car parked behind mine, bumping it into the rear bumper. If it had been my car, I would have said, "no big deal- forget it ever happened." But because it's NOT my car, I had to make a series of phone calls to the police, the insurance company, and Enterprise. Super fun times.

I mostly feel bad for the woman who hit the cars. It's really embarassing to cause an accident, and more embarassing still to hit a parked car. And to add insult to injury, she hit TWO parked cars belonging to teachers at her son's school. Talk about a rough morning.

Are you serious?

I took my kids to the library this morning, for our library prep. It was pretty typical. They sat "like pretzels" (it's not politically correct to say Indian style) on the carpet. She gave them a long lecture about good behavior and getting into high schools and being respectful. Then she talked about how other teachers' students are respectful to them, and told my students that they should be respectful to me. This sounds like it might be helpful, but she was really just reminding me and my students that she thinks I am completely incompetent and have horrible management.

Then she noticed that one of my female students was leaning on another female student. She told her to get up (which I think was appropriate). Then she said, "stop doing that gay stuff. You look like you're gay."

A moment later, she apologized. "I'm not trying to say YOU are gay, but what you were doing LOOKED gay."

How is homophobia an appropriate or acceptable value to be teaching in a public school??

I felt like I should have SAID something; I HAVE talked to my students about homophobia in the classroom, and several of them shot me, "uh oh- Ms. Jenkins isn't going to like this," glances. But I sat there silently, waiting for her to stop talking. Because the bottom line is, I'm only working here for 14 more days. I'm not going to rock the boat now.

Where there's smoke.

"Attention teachers: please disregard the fire alarm. We are testing the alarm system."

I thought the alarm would go of for a second or two, then stop. I thought this might be a recurring theme throughout the morning. I knew it would be disruptive, but let's be honest-- it's the first day back at school after a 3 day weekend, with 18 days of school left. How much is there to disrupt?

The alarm went off, and my students were actually relatively calm. They had heard the announcement, too, and for some reason decided they'd be chill today. But then the alarm kept going off. And it kept going off. 15 minutes later, the fire alarm was still going off. It was still a test. Nobody left their classrooms, much less the building.

Later, I went downstairs to pick my kids up for lunch, and the entire first floor of our building was filled with smoke. It seemed to be coming from the cafeteria, but I coughed all the way down the hallway. I'm talking THICK smoke. And yet, somehow, the smoke detectors that had been so meticulously tested managed to not go off. Amazing.

As a side note--

We're doing an astronomy unit in science right now. Today, we learned about constellations. As an extension, I had my students choose a constellation that reminded them of an animal or ojbect and then write a myth about how the constellation ended up in the sky. One of my students wasn't paying attention while I explained the assignment, she just saw "Your Constellation: __________________" on the handout. I overheard her flipping out because she couldn't find "her" constellation (Sagitarius) on the map. An excellent example of when a little knowledge is more dangerous than no knowledge.

Ms. Jenkins was the nicest teacher!

We had a 3 hour assembly this morning, which meant my kids had lunch at noon instead of eleven. It also meant that they were eating with the second graders. I taught first grade last year, and this provided me with a rare opportunity to see my students from last year (when I was teaching first grade).

The conversation went something like this:

Student 1: Ms. Jenkins was the nicest teacher! She gave us gum in first grade, and we had to make this big brain with it.

Student 2: Yeah, that thing was gross!

Student 1: But it was fun, though. I liked Ms. Jenkins.

Me: That was the FIRST DAY of school last year! How do you remember that?

Student 1: I don't know. I remember everything.

The same student brought me a Christmas card last year that said, "Dear Ms. Jenkins, you are nice in the mornings." Only the mornings. And it wasn't a mistake (I asked her about it).

It's funny what kids remember and what they forget. Praise God that they remember fun things and that I really did love them-- not that I yelled a lot and was almost always on the verge of tears.

"Ms. Jenkins, I hate that baby."

Sometimes, it's really difficult to know if a child is being absolutely transparent or perfectly manipulative.

One of my students had a hard time focusing today-- she was off task, (loudly) playful, and disrespectful on several occasions. This isn't entirely unusual for her. She also struggles with her work, and becomes frustrated easily. The academic frustration, paired with adolescence, can become a behavior issue.

But at the end of the day, she walked over to my desk and announced, "Ms. Jenkins, I hate that baby." She then proceeded to tell me all about her new baby brother. She told me about how he cries all the time, and about how she has given him the nickname "Stinky Poo Butt" because his poos so much. She told me about how he keeps her awake at night, and how her mom just wants to sleep all of the time. She told me about how she can't go anywhere because she has to help take care of the baby, since her mom runs her own business. She told me about sleeping at her Aunt's house, which is overcrowded, because it's the only place where she can actually GET sleep. She also explained to me that none of her other relatives live in South Philly, although if you'd like to know where they DO live- I got that information, too.

It was clearly the cry of an adolescent only-child-turned-big-sister wanting (needing?) some adult attention. But as she wrapped up her complaint session, she told me, "But I don't like it when other people touch him. Only I can hold him," and gave me a list of people she no longer likes because they tried to touch or hold her baby brother. She complains about "the baby," but she secretly loves him.

It's easy to laugh and say, "Oh, kids . . ." but I think I'm just as inconsistent; the people I love the most are also the people that drive me craziest. And at the end of the day, I think we'd all like a little extra attention.

Blast from the past

Favorite quotes from previous days (copied from my facebook page)

"We do not need an economic stimulus package. What we need is Barack Obama."--Moosaa, the most brilliant 6th grader ever, in a letter to Barack Obama.

"Ms. Jenkins, this says, 'social classes still affect us today.' Is that like credit scores?"-- Tajah, after reading about colonial America

"Loquacious? That sounds like a ghetto name. I'm going to start calling Quairra loquacious 'cause she talks too much." -- Airama

"Ms. Jenkins, if we have desegregation, why aren't there any white kids at OUR school?"-- Kia'Jah, 7.

Things grown-ups do

1. Look at a million apartments, most of which are inaccurately described in their craigslist ads, and ask all of the appropriate questions (thanks, Angela, for pointing most of these out to me!).

2. Set mouse traps by themselves, without asking anyone else for help. Implied: not freak out after seeing not just one, but TWO mice in the living room in broad daylight.

3. Deal with car insurance claims representatives and the entire staff at Enterprise rent-a-car (they really will pick you up), sans parents, after a car accident.

4. Pay bills.

5. Go to work.

BUT I also get to stay out as late as I want (which means I'm usually in bed before 11), eat dessert before dinner, take road trips to Boston at the last minute, and live in a really cool city that is NOT where my parents choose to reside.

Do the pros outweigh the cons? Maybe . . .

Are you having a baby?

My friend and co-teacher, Matt, called out sick today. So did approximately 15 other teachers at my school today. This means, fabulously enough, that I got to babysit extra students, including a few of Matt's kids.

This was fine- it was a Monday/Friday (the first day back from a weekend, but also the day before a day off, since our kids don't have school tomorrow), so everyone was a little "hype," but I expected that.

Then, at the end of the day, I went to stand next to one of Matt's students, checking his work. He responded by gently rubbing my stomach. Yes, my stomach. Weird, right? It gets better. When I asked him to stop, he looked up at me, innocently, and said, "Ms. Jenkins, are you having a baby?"

I am NOT having a baby. When I told him this, he began rubbing my legs. The explanation for this? "I can tell by rubbing people's legs if they're having a baby or not."

This started a lovely conversation-- kids wanting to know why I'm not having a baby yet. Who the father would be if I were to have a baby (this one I ended VERY quickly). A few kids said I sometimes rub my stomach. Another suggested that a pregnancy could cause mood swings.

Teaching has definitely taught me to laugh at myself-- I'm not fat, I don't look fat, and I don't have mood swings. Kids are kids, and they talk about things. I'm just along for the ride . . .

The twilight zone

It's 8:01 AM, by my clock. 8:05 by my school clock (set to official school time). Teachers are required to be here by 8:00. Students are allowed upstairs at 8:00 on Monday and Tuesday mornings.

And yet . . . I am the only person on the entire floor. The only teacher in her classroom. The hallways are silent; there is a noted absence of students running and yelling down the hallways.

Was there a memo that I missed? The memo where the told us we wouldn't be having school today, after all? Or is there a secret staff meeting being held downstairs, one I wasn't told about? Who knows . . . but what a weird way to begin the week!

Also of note--

I wrecked my car last night. :( Brad said in the sermon yesterday that there is no need to test God-- if you're following Him, crazy things will happen. He will provide plenty of opportunities to show you that He takes care of you. Maybe this is an example of that.

It certainly was an opportunity to confirm that I made the right decision about teaching again next year. When I had the accident, I was actually on my way to my new principal's house to pick up a book. He came to meet me, and then drove me to the body shop (where I picked up a rental car). Overall, we probably spent about an hour and a half of quality time together. Definitely someone I am excited to work for and with next year.

I <3 google

I just realized that I could put presentations in blog posts . . . incredible. I really do love Google. I met somebody at church a few weeks ago who works for Google. To be completely honest, I was a little jealous.

But anyway . . . this is a presentation that one of my kids made recently. I think she did a really great job-- the information isn't cited, but it's also not copied & pasted directly from the internet. We're moving in the right direction.



Maybe I'll add their future career presentations soon (they're saved on the hard drive of my computer at school, not my laptop).

Field trips

This actually happened on Monday/Tuesday, but I didn't write about it that night and then forgot throughout the course of the week. I only remembered this morning, at small group, when we were supposed to share a way we've seen God working in our lives this week.

On Tuesday, we took a field trip to the Constitution Center. Because my school is located so near Center City, we decided to take the subway to avoid the cost of renting a bus. The downside is this: imagine one teacher, one parent, and 19 kids on a subway together. Needless to say, my stomach was a little queasy on Monday night. So I prayed. "God, I'm giving this to you. This trip is in YOUR hands. These kids' lives are in YOUR hands. I'm giving all responsibility to You."

Secretly, I was hoping that a) half of my kids would stay home, b) 4 random chaperones would show up unexpectedly, or c) some combination of the two. Then my phone rang. It was one of my students, asking where the Constitution Center was. She said her mom was thinking about meeting us there. I gave her directions, but began complaining almost before I hung up the phone. Her mother has NEVER shown up for anything-- not back to school night, not open house, not report card conferences. A couple times she's even called, yelling at me about something I've done or not done, swearing she's going to be "up at that school" the next day to complain, and has still never actually shown up. It made me angry that she would get her daughter's hopes up (and her daughter WAS really, really excited that her mom might come) if she wasn't actually going to come.

The morning of the trip, 5 of my 19 students are absent. One stayed home because he wasn't allowed to go on the trip. One had a dentist appointment. One student's mom was having a baby. I don't know where the other two were. Two students didn't bring permission slips, so I put them in other classrooms for the day. That left a total of 12 students and two adults, including myself, going on the trip. Very manageable.

We made it to the Constitution Center without incident. Nobody ran in front of a car while walking to the subway. Nobody fell onto the tracks. Everyone successfully transferred from the first train to the second. My co-teacher went inside to pay, and I waited outside with our classes. I was pretty relaxed, enjoying the weather and being able to just "hang out" with my students. Then one student- the girl who had called me the night before-- ran off. I started to yell for her to come back, or send another student to chase her, when I saw her reach and consequently hug an adult. Her mom had actually shown up. She took a group of students with her, alleviating some of my responsibility. She bought them things. She stayed with my class for the entire day. And the student loved every second of it.

It was a reminder, for me, of how God works-- he didn't just provide an additional chaperone, he provided an "impossible" chaperone: the one parent I had not met this year, the parent I did not believe would ever show up.

School Update/ Conversation of the Week

Tajah (noticing a spreadsheet on my computer after school): Ms. Jenkins, what is this?
Me: It's a list of apartments I've been looking at. I'm trying to find somewhere to live next year.
Tajah: Where you gonna live at?
Me: I don't know yet. I looked at an apartment at 48th and Pine yesterday.
Tajah: We used to be going there all the time! You know that Blockbuster?
Me: Yes, Tajah. But I might not want to live there because of that. I always see people outside of that Blockbuster.
Tajah (laughing): Ms. Jenkins, people do not be hanging out outside of that Blockbuster. All those people got locked up. But people do be hanging out at that bar, you know that one? Right next to the dollar store.

Somehow, I'm less excited about the apartment at 48th and Pine . . .

Runner up:

Me: Tamir, are you sick?
Tamir: No! Why?
Me: I think you have verbal diarrhea. Words just keep flying out of your mouth, like you can't control them.
Tamir: Are you trying to say my breath smells bad? Ms. Jenkins is trying to play me! She trying to say my breath stink!
Salimata: (under her breath, from the other side of the room) Tamir be SLOW.

And PS- the other fun school update for the week- my class won the Career Day project contest. We get $50 to buy something educational (yeah right) or have a pizza party.

New neighbors/roommates

We got new neighbors! A cute couple-- Melissa and Graham- just moved into the apartment across the hall. She works for Anthropologie. And gets a 40% discount. I can tell we're going to be friends. :)

Then, later, Charlie and I were hanging out in the living room.

We're watching "27 Dresses" (super cute, by the way- much better than I expected). In the corner, I almost notice something gray-ish dart from the vicinity of one closet to the vicinity of another closet. The conversation went something like this:

"Did you see that?"
"Did YOU see that?"
"Did I see what?"
"You DID see it."
"F&*%."

We have new neighbors, and mice.

The solution? Every single mice trap that CVS had in stock, and a 6-pack of beer to make ourselves feel better.

More fun inferences

We're reading "The Giver" (a FABULOUS book!) as a class. This week, I've really been focusing on characterization--and what we can learn about a character through his/her thoughts, actions, words, responses, and appearance.

Today, we read a segment in which Jonas, the main character, spouts off lots of information that he'd learned in school. I asked my students what they could infer about his character from those words, and was told, "he's not a follower."

As in, he pays attention at school. He does his work. He wants to be smart. And that, necessarily, involves not following the crowd. Of course, that isn't true for Jonas at all--everyone in his community does well in school.

It's just interesting to think about school climate and peer influences and how they affect our students.

Things I've learned

1. Sometimes, if your cousin gets stabbed, the police will come. And instead of arresting the guy who stabbed him, they will grab your cousin "real rough" and throw him into the back of the police car. They will take him to the hospital, but he will die anyway.

2. When asked to describe the setting of a story, a student might infer that the story took place in the suburbs because "the kids needed lunch money." My students do not need lunch money, of course, because everyone in the city gets free lunch.

3. Warm weather makes me lazy. It makes my kids even lazier.