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So what was your day like?
I was up at four thirty, finishing off a few odds and ends that didn't get finished over the weekend (even though I worked half of Sunday). Got to school at 6:30 and wrote three "additional year plans", just in case a few of the kids on my caseload don't pass the standardized tests that start this week and get threatened with repeating the fifth grade. (Insert sound of head banging against wall here...) Kids are let in at 7:15, and I spent the next half an hour rounding up the ones who want to loiter in the stairwells and talking with a few individuals to remind them that their behavior contracts are still in effect. At 7:50, announcements came on and, as usual, I slipped next door to my other co-teacher's classroom during the Moment of Silent Reflection to get ready to teach math to her class.
8:00, estimating the area of circles. This co-teacher has a hard time letting go of any control in her room, but she dislikes math and so usually lets me have free rein. The "smart board" with which the room is equipped has a nifty feature that displays a quadrille graph at the touch of a button, but the projector is situated so that it points *up* at the board, stretching each square on the graph into a vertical rectangle. This presents a dilemma: do I draw the figures so that they remain true to the number of units in the diameter, thus resulting in ovals instead of circles, or do I abandon any tie to the square units concept (which is the point of the lesson, after all) and actually draw circles? Opt for the ovals and try to convince the kids that they're meant to represent circles. This sort of works. I think.
After twenty minutes, we break into small groups. Some of mine get it, some don't. The strategy we're required to teach for this is to divide the circle into fourths, figure the square units in one fourth (wholes and almost-wholes count as one, half units count as half, etc) then multiply by four. The ones who are lost are the ones who generally are. I have one sweet child who, for the life of her, can't be prodded into an understanding that, to generalize the results of the fourth, she should multiply by four. When told this, multiplying 6.5 by 4 is a labor of some minutes. Yes, I've worked with her on her times tables this year. God help her on the math test this Friday.
In the middle of my trying to explain these concepts to her, we're interrupted by the transition to PE. I won't see her again for math until tomorrow, by which point she'll have forgotten anything that did penetrate today. I spend my planning time working on IEPs and more additional year plans.
At 9:40, I go with my other co-teacher to pick up her class from the health trailer. A ten minute transition to the bathroom later, everyone is seated in the classroom, finishing the same lesson I taught in the other room. This gives me time to realize that my principal has sent me an urgent email, requesting field trip permission forms for the students whose names I sent her on Friday.
Here's the background for this part of the story: the fifth grade takes an end-of-year field trip every year, and this year we're going to the Georgia Aquarium, CNN and the Varsity (an iconic drive-in downtown). Great field trip, but the cost to student families is a fairly incredible $66 per child. I work in a Title I school - a child who gets his meals for free isn't likely to have $66 stashed under the mattress for just such an occasion. Worse, the grade team leader seems to have made no provisions for children who can't pay, so I, armed with the knowledge that it's quite illegal to leave children out of a field trip simply because they can't pay to go, went to the administration last week to advocate for the kids in our classes who are on the verge of being left out. Now it's on me to get the permissions.
But the forms aren't ready, so I get to call parents and gently discuss their financial situations with them in order to determine whether or not their displacement from the field trip list is due solely to a lack of ability to pay. Oh, happy day! Meanwhile, there are these kids to teach, and it's only just after 10 am.
English and CRCT prep time are largely a blur, except for one student - we'll call him Mike. I adore Mike. He's easily the most capable of my students with special needs and has a great sense of humor, but he's amazingly temperamental. Mike has no "fair" days - he's either great or on the floor, and today he's on the floor, literally. We haven't been back from the bathroom twenty minutes before he's rushing up to me, claiming to be on the verge of pissing himself. I tell him no, my co-teacher tells him no, so Mike gets fetal behind my desk for a while. When this doesn't produce results, he moves to the front of the class and, still on the floor, gets into a verbal mud-slinging match with another student. After 20 minutes of this business, and although we've prided ourselves on our low number of office referrals this year, I march Mike up to chill for a while with the AP. During this particular transition, he never once mentions a need to relieve himself.
11:00 am, back in the classroom. My making an example of Mike has subdued the class somewhat, and we're able to get through the rest of CRCT prep and social studies without much incident. Lunch is 12:18. At 12:25, having seen the first of our kids through the lunch line, I call my wife to say "hi" and eat my lunch.
12:48. On the way back from lunch, a young man in the class spits, blatantly, in the face of a young lady in the class. Young Lady then proceeds to shriek at me, demanding to know what I'm going to do about this offense, disrupting several classes on the hall. This lasts for about a minute until I can haul the two of them (minus their entourages) into the office and inform both of them that the world doesn't revolve around them. Back down to the classroom, access the parent contact folder, talk to the grandmother of one and leave messages for the parents of the other. Make mental note that neither of these children have special needs and of the time I'm spending on them.
1:30. It's Monday, and therefore time to go to the media center. I've done a lot this year in terms of helping our kids find good books to read, but today is a wash - they want to look at mummies on the net, so we go with that. I show them what I know of the frozen Inca sacrifices that have been found, and they are largely interested. Back to the classroom at 2 for announcements.
2:15. Dismissal begins. Today is the fifth grade's contribution to Staff Health Awareness, and I forgot to load up the three bags of apples I bought over the weekend when I left this morning at 6, so I've gotten someone to cover for me at bus duty and zip up to Publix for some apples. Arrive back at the school at 2:35, deliver the apples and then head next door (I get to make up the "training" for CRCT testing I missed tomorrow at 2:30) in order to track down a mother of the kids who need permission for the field trip and who doesn't have a steady phone number.
She's not there, but the boyfriend assures me that he'll give her my cell number. At 3:15, I head to class downtown.
4:30, the first class starts. The second lets out, mercifully, at 8:45. On the way home, the mom immediately previous calls back and gives the permissions I need. Good deal.
9:45, home. Wife and child are in bed, watching TV. Spend a few precious minutes kissing and talking to both before coming back downstairs - against my son't protests - to do a little work that I need to do before tomorrow. The cat and other issues take some time, and now, having vented to you, it's 12:30. I get to do this all again tomorrow.
Boy, it's nice to have a spring break. Yessir, those teachers sure have it easy.
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