As my regular readers know by now some of my funniest blog material comes from my interactions with students at the learning center in which I tutor part time. This past Saturday I gathered material for what was to be an epic blog choc full of laughs. Unfortunately, my carelessness would lead to the following very embarrassing situation. In order to ensure that my material is relayed to my readers as accurately as possible I often jot down notes of the many funny and unusual things my students say or do. This is exactly what I was doing this past Saturday.
It is important to note before continuing that very few people know that I write this blog, which makes what happens even more embarrassing. It just so happens that this past Saturday I happened to tutor one of the strangest kids east of the Mississippi. I took a buttload of notes during the hour in which I was with him. All of the notes reference the many bizarre things he kept talking about. Here's the problem...I accidently left my notes and my work schedule for next week in a draw by my table. I did not realize I had left them behind until later that night. I immediately began freaking out and hoping beyond hope that I could get to the learning center Monday afternoon before anyone had a chance to go into that drawer.
Well...you guessed it. When I arrived at 3:00 to pick up the left behind notes there was only one employee working. This particular employee has no clue that I write this blog. As I entered the building I said the following, "Hey, I left my schedule in my drawer." To which she replied, "Yeah...I just saw your schedule and some paper with weird stuff written on it. I put them both in your box." I was horrified knowing that she had read my notes, because the notes read out of context make it seem like I'm a raving lunatic. I thought about trying to explain what the notes were, but could not think of a way to do so that would not make me seem like more of a psycho.
If at this point you think that I'm overreacting, here is exactly what is written in my notes. Imagine what the poor girl reading the following, who has no idea what the notes refer to, was thinking about me as she read these.
1. All weapons and army stuff from flea market for $5
2. Red haired sister...looks like Chucky, but her skin is not made of plastic
3. put on some muscle
4. torture terrorists
5. do for country, greatest country
6. arthritis popping knuckles
7. no lock on bedroom door
8. caramel on lips, so I don't need anymore twix
9. I wiped so much caramel on my pants they look like they do when me and my dad walk in the
Tar River
10. AC/DC Highway to Hell
11. teacher dug fingernails into my hands, and I still don't know how she is not in jail for child
abuse
What you just read were all things the student talked about during our hour together, but the poor girl at the learning center must now think that I am some delusional madman that records his mind rants!!
Any suggestions on how to make this situation better?
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
The Bus Stop pt. 2
Last month I turned forty-one. There is really nothing remarkable about me, despite whatever you have read in the papers. I’m average height and weight for a man who stands 5’9 ½, though I have to admit that I’ve noticed since turning forty that my waistline seems to keep expanding more and more each day. At the early age of twenty-six I began falling victim to the dreaded horseshoe balding pattern, so I decided on a whim to shave all my hair off. I’ve been bald ever since. I believe if you’re going to do something you should go balls to the wall, as my little league coach used to say. Nowadays, I have no real family to speak of. No kids. No wife. No girlfriend. In fact the last real meaningful relationship I had was with my old border collie Bozo who died two years ago at the ripe old age of thirteen. The only other thing of any real interest about me is that in a few short hours I’ll be dead.
To get you where we are, I think I’d better share where I’ve been. It all started with the man in white…the goddamn man in white. As early as elementary school I have had a recurring dream of the man in white. Who exactly is the man in white, and why did I ever start dreaming of him I don’t know. I will however share with you what I do know, and that involves five things that are an absolute certainty about the man in white:
Number One – He has haunted my dreams since I was eight years old.
Number Two – I have never seen his face.
Number Three – He has never spoken a word, nor made any sound at all.
Number Four – When I told my father about the dreams, he told me my imagination
was too big and proceeded to beat me with a power saw extension cord
for what seemed like forever. In reality, it was closer to fifteen
minutes. Throughout he repeated over and over the same five words
that I’ve never forgotten, “Do not ever come back!”
Number Five – I have never spoken another word about the man in white until this
moment.
The subject matter of the dream is of no importance to the man in white. He comes and goes throughout my dreams with the same frequency that the wind changes direction. Ever present and always lurking, I have on occasion tried to confront him when having particularly lucid dreams in which I am in control of myself in my dreams rather than simply watching events take place. Never once has a confrontation between me and the man in white been successful, as he is always just out of reach. Until recent events the man in white had become such a part of my life through his repeated visits to my dreams that I thought no more about him than a person thinks about breathing. Obviously, since last week I’ve done nothing but think of the man in white…the goddamn man in white.
To get you where we are, I think I’d better share where I’ve been. It all started with the man in white…the goddamn man in white. As early as elementary school I have had a recurring dream of the man in white. Who exactly is the man in white, and why did I ever start dreaming of him I don’t know. I will however share with you what I do know, and that involves five things that are an absolute certainty about the man in white:
Number One – He has haunted my dreams since I was eight years old.
Number Two – I have never seen his face.
Number Three – He has never spoken a word, nor made any sound at all.
Number Four – When I told my father about the dreams, he told me my imagination
was too big and proceeded to beat me with a power saw extension cord
for what seemed like forever. In reality, it was closer to fifteen
minutes. Throughout he repeated over and over the same five words
that I’ve never forgotten, “Do not ever come back!”
Number Five – I have never spoken another word about the man in white until this
moment.
The subject matter of the dream is of no importance to the man in white. He comes and goes throughout my dreams with the same frequency that the wind changes direction. Ever present and always lurking, I have on occasion tried to confront him when having particularly lucid dreams in which I am in control of myself in my dreams rather than simply watching events take place. Never once has a confrontation between me and the man in white been successful, as he is always just out of reach. Until recent events the man in white had become such a part of my life through his repeated visits to my dreams that I thought no more about him than a person thinks about breathing. Obviously, since last week I’ve done nothing but think of the man in white…the goddamn man in white.
Monday, September 6, 2010
"I got stuff to do!"
Here is yet another in my somewhat continuous installment of encounters with students that leave me scratching my head and saying, "uhhh...". A few weeks ago I had the thrill to tutor a student at a local learning center I've been working at part time for about 4 years. Upon entering the center and walking to my table I realized this was a student I had tutored for a couple of weeks when I first started. The young man I remember from 4 years ago was polite, intelligent, and a hardworker. Well...time certainly changed things.
Here is how the hour began, and please note that I'm writing this as close to word for word as possible.
ME: Hey, how are you today?
STUDENT: I don't know.
ME: What school do you go to?
STUDENT: I don't know.
ME: What's your favorite subject?
STUDENT: I don't know.
ME: What's your least favorite subject?
STUDENT: Math.
ME: Oh yeah...why is that?
STUDENT: Cause I get A's.
At this point my confusion begins, and by the end of the hour I would be left trying to figure out what the heck had just happened. After giving the student his first assignment the conversation continued,
ME: Do you understand what to do?
STUDENT: I don't know.
After a few minutes had passed...
ME: Do you need some help?
STUDENT: I don't know.
Once he had completed the assignment, he looks to me and says the following,
STUDENT: I'm done...this is 4th grade work. It's too easy for me.
ME: oh yeah.
The young man was absolutely correct in saying that the work was easy, and in fact it was 3rd grade work. However, after checking his work he got every single problem wrong !
This type of thing continued throughout the remainder of our time together, but there was one more incident of insane hilarity that occurred about 37 minutes in...
STUDENT: You owe me a thousand dollars.
ME: What? Why?
STUDENT: Cause you taught me how to do that.
Again, I'm left scratching my head as to what in the world he is talking about. The next thing to happen 2 minutes later put the icing on the cake.
STUDENT: I need to use the bathroom.
ME: OK...go ahead.
STUDENT: (screaming out loud as he is walking across the center to the restroom) I GOT STUFF TO DO!!
Of course all heads in the center turn to the young man who proceeds into the restroom totally unaware he has garnered the attention of everyone. He then spent the next 3-4 minutes in the restroom screaming a litany of unintelligible words.
Here is how the hour began, and please note that I'm writing this as close to word for word as possible.
ME: Hey, how are you today?
STUDENT: I don't know.
ME: What school do you go to?
STUDENT: I don't know.
ME: What's your favorite subject?
STUDENT: I don't know.
ME: What's your least favorite subject?
STUDENT: Math.
ME: Oh yeah...why is that?
STUDENT: Cause I get A's.
At this point my confusion begins, and by the end of the hour I would be left trying to figure out what the heck had just happened. After giving the student his first assignment the conversation continued,
ME: Do you understand what to do?
STUDENT: I don't know.
After a few minutes had passed...
ME: Do you need some help?
STUDENT: I don't know.
Once he had completed the assignment, he looks to me and says the following,
STUDENT: I'm done...this is 4th grade work. It's too easy for me.
ME: oh yeah.
The young man was absolutely correct in saying that the work was easy, and in fact it was 3rd grade work. However, after checking his work he got every single problem wrong !
This type of thing continued throughout the remainder of our time together, but there was one more incident of insane hilarity that occurred about 37 minutes in...
STUDENT: You owe me a thousand dollars.
ME: What? Why?
STUDENT: Cause you taught me how to do that.
Again, I'm left scratching my head as to what in the world he is talking about. The next thing to happen 2 minutes later put the icing on the cake.
STUDENT: I need to use the bathroom.
ME: OK...go ahead.
STUDENT: (screaming out loud as he is walking across the center to the restroom) I GOT STUFF TO DO!!
Of course all heads in the center turn to the young man who proceeds into the restroom totally unaware he has garnered the attention of everyone. He then spent the next 3-4 minutes in the restroom screaming a litany of unintelligible words.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
The Bus Stop pt.1
My guess is that when my obituary is printed, my first name will be spelled incorrectly. I would also bet that where ever my body or ashes end up for what is suppose to be eternity the name recorded to tell the world that I, Eliott Jeffrey Florentine IV, lived and died in Savannah, GA will also be misspelled. To her credit my mother’s original intention was to name me Elliot; spelled correctly. The way my mom told the story to me and countless others during my childhood is that the attending nurse who completed the birth certificate the morning of my birth did not realize her mistake until my mother, Charlotte Florentine, had written out the Charl in her first name. The nurse stopped my mother immediately during mid signing, and apologetically pointed out her error. Whether it was the medication, or post birth hormonal fluctuations, I’ll never know, but my mom decided she liked that spelling better. She told the nurse, and nearly everyone she came in contact with over the course of her life that, “It will set him apart. It’s unique, and people will always remember that name because of its spelling.” I say over the course of her life, because she passed away six years ago at the relatively young age of sixty-three. A brain aneurysm as she napped in her favorite recliner. As for the name, it turns out she was right about people remembering it, but it’s got nothing to do with the spelling.
At one time my family was considered one step removed from southern royalty. Boy, times sure have changed. My great-grandfather, the first Elliot Jeffrey Florentine, used to own and operate five very successful family style restaurants throughout Savannah. He even had one in Beaufort, South Carolina, and in what would eventually become Garden City. Like thousands of businesses across the country the Great Depression of the early thirties wiped him out. The restaurants closed down and grandpa skipped town. He was just too embarrassed to stand in line at the very soup kitchen he used to send the restaurant’s leftovers and out-of-dates. Well…if I’m being honest, and at this moment I guess it can’t hurt, that is only half the truth. It is indeed true that the first Elliot, spelled correctly, did skip town, but despite what many members of my family still like to believe it had nothing to do with his embarrassment. The truth of the matter is that good’ol great grandpa was a shrewd businessman with his pulse on the free market. He could sniff out a changing economy quicker than a bloodhound could locate a bloody glove that was two feet in front of it.
Unbeknownst to the rest of the family, including dear sweet great grandma, the first Elliot, spelled correctly, sold off all the restaurants six months before the market crashed. He skipped town days after the bottom fell out with a buttload of money, and not one, but two of the waitresses from the old River Street location. A short time later the man who purchased the restaurants from great-grandpa tied two tire rims to each of his ankles, and threw himself into the river for which that very street is named. It wasn’t until his body washed up in South Carolina three days later that the mystery of what my great grandpa had done was revealed. Personally, I believe those events led to my family’s undoing for generations to come, and in many ways likely have a lot to do with why you’re now reading this.
At one time my family was considered one step removed from southern royalty. Boy, times sure have changed. My great-grandfather, the first Elliot Jeffrey Florentine, used to own and operate five very successful family style restaurants throughout Savannah. He even had one in Beaufort, South Carolina, and in what would eventually become Garden City. Like thousands of businesses across the country the Great Depression of the early thirties wiped him out. The restaurants closed down and grandpa skipped town. He was just too embarrassed to stand in line at the very soup kitchen he used to send the restaurant’s leftovers and out-of-dates. Well…if I’m being honest, and at this moment I guess it can’t hurt, that is only half the truth. It is indeed true that the first Elliot, spelled correctly, did skip town, but despite what many members of my family still like to believe it had nothing to do with his embarrassment. The truth of the matter is that good’ol great grandpa was a shrewd businessman with his pulse on the free market. He could sniff out a changing economy quicker than a bloodhound could locate a bloody glove that was two feet in front of it.
Unbeknownst to the rest of the family, including dear sweet great grandma, the first Elliot, spelled correctly, sold off all the restaurants six months before the market crashed. He skipped town days after the bottom fell out with a buttload of money, and not one, but two of the waitresses from the old River Street location. A short time later the man who purchased the restaurants from great-grandpa tied two tire rims to each of his ankles, and threw himself into the river for which that very street is named. It wasn’t until his body washed up in South Carolina three days later that the mystery of what my great grandpa had done was revealed. Personally, I believe those events led to my family’s undoing for generations to come, and in many ways likely have a lot to do with why you’re now reading this.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Same Students, Different Year
Even for veteran teachers, each new school year brings with it new challenges. As I've discussed on recent posts I will face many new challenges this coming year including working with different staff members, teaching at a new grade level, becoming adjusted to working with a new principal, and teaching a new literacy program adopted by the county. However, above and beyond these challenges the one I'm most concerned with is being charged with teaching the same students I taught last year.
On the service this would not seem to be much of a problem, but with it comes many issues that I've never dealt with previously. One of the first is that 7th grade is such a transitive year for young people as they are in their adolescent prime. I have only ever taught 7th grade, so I have learned to adjust to those many changes and many personalities that 7th graders seem to have. This coming year I will have the same students for 8th grade. My hope is that many of the students have matured over the summer. It will be interesting to see how the students react to me, as well as how I react to them, since we already know each others strengths and weaknesses.
I pride myself on the fact that in previous years of teaching I learn as little about my incoming students as possible, so as not to prejudice myself in any way towards the student. This year the challenge for me will be to forget my past history with the students, and begin anew. I hope that the students will do the same in return. While there will be many students that are thrilled to have me as their teacher again, there will certainly be those that absolutely dread it. The same goes for me. There are so many students I'm am terribly excited to teach again. There are also some students that I'm quite Frankly not looking forward to dealing with again.
It should be an interesting year! Let me know if you have any suggestions for making this year's unusual circumstance go smoother.
On the service this would not seem to be much of a problem, but with it comes many issues that I've never dealt with previously. One of the first is that 7th grade is such a transitive year for young people as they are in their adolescent prime. I have only ever taught 7th grade, so I have learned to adjust to those many changes and many personalities that 7th graders seem to have. This coming year I will have the same students for 8th grade. My hope is that many of the students have matured over the summer. It will be interesting to see how the students react to me, as well as how I react to them, since we already know each others strengths and weaknesses.
I pride myself on the fact that in previous years of teaching I learn as little about my incoming students as possible, so as not to prejudice myself in any way towards the student. This year the challenge for me will be to forget my past history with the students, and begin anew. I hope that the students will do the same in return. While there will be many students that are thrilled to have me as their teacher again, there will certainly be those that absolutely dread it. The same goes for me. There are so many students I'm am terribly excited to teach again. There are also some students that I'm quite Frankly not looking forward to dealing with again.
It should be an interesting year! Let me know if you have any suggestions for making this year's unusual circumstance go smoother.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Something for Nothing
Is it just me or does it seem that more and more people are developing a sense of personal entitlement? It has begun to feel like many, regardless of age, sex, race, or socioeconomic background, have an expectation to be provided things for free. As usual the trends that occur in society are often replicated in our schools. The sense of entitlement that has run rampant in so many facets of our daily lives has unfortunately invaded our schools, and it will prove disastrous for our American educational system if something is not done to solve this problem. From people throwing a fit to receive 'free' healthcare to parents writing letters to the local newspaper complaining that no one at the school would pay for her child's lunch when SHE forgot to give money to HER child. Needless to say things are getting out of control. The old adage that "anything free isn't worth having" seems to have been replaced with "anything you have to work for isn't worth having".
Perhaps I'm an oddball, but I cannot understand the mentality needed to go through life expecting everything to either be done for you or given to you. Many students that continually turn in sub standard work, when they turn in work at all, have the audacity to question you as to why their grade is not higher. Many students simply expect that you will provide them with school supplies, and often come to class completely unprepared. I could go on and on, but I think you get the picture. So where are our students learning that they don't need to do anything?
As a teacher I would like to place all the blame on the parents, but the fact is that many of our school policies encourage this entitlement mentality. It is a fact that in more cases than I want to believe possible parents are sending their children to school expecting the school system and the teachers to take care of their every need. The school system and/or the teachers usually go out of their way to ensure the student is provided the same opportunity as everyone else in the class...whether that means giving a student a pencil every single day to purchasing school clothes for a student. The entitlement monster continually feeds itself in that the parents expect the school and teachers to do everything for their child. The school and teachers are basically forced to fill the parental role for fear of lawsuits. The parent gets their way and the vicious handout cycle continues. Who is more to blame...the user or the supplier? I would love to hear your thoughts.
Perhaps I'm an oddball, but I cannot understand the mentality needed to go through life expecting everything to either be done for you or given to you. Many students that continually turn in sub standard work, when they turn in work at all, have the audacity to question you as to why their grade is not higher. Many students simply expect that you will provide them with school supplies, and often come to class completely unprepared. I could go on and on, but I think you get the picture. So where are our students learning that they don't need to do anything?
As a teacher I would like to place all the blame on the parents, but the fact is that many of our school policies encourage this entitlement mentality. It is a fact that in more cases than I want to believe possible parents are sending their children to school expecting the school system and the teachers to take care of their every need. The school system and/or the teachers usually go out of their way to ensure the student is provided the same opportunity as everyone else in the class...whether that means giving a student a pencil every single day to purchasing school clothes for a student. The entitlement monster continually feeds itself in that the parents expect the school and teachers to do everything for their child. The school and teachers are basically forced to fill the parental role for fear of lawsuits. The parent gets their way and the vicious handout cycle continues. Who is more to blame...the user or the supplier? I would love to hear your thoughts.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Here Comes August 25th!
We are quickly nearing the start of a new school year, and as it draws closer I find myself pondering the many new challenges I'll have to confront. I will no longer be teaching 7th grade language arts and social studies. For the first time I will be teaching those same subjects in the 8th grade. Along with getting myself familiar with the new curriculums, I have also had to prepare myself to teach a fairly new literacy program adopted by Pitt County Schools called LANGUAGE!. Only being placed in charge of teaching this new program would have been challenging enough in and of itself, but when coupled with teaching a new grade level as well I certainly have my work cut out for me in the coming school year. Addtionally, our school will have a new principal which is something else I have yet to experience in my young career. I am interested, and I must admit somewhat anxious, to see how things work with a new boss.
Along with those major changes and challenges I will face next year there is also the fact that I will have to get to know and work with an entirely different team of teachers and personalities. That also brings with it a certain level of anxiety, because I had developed a nice comfort level with my 7th grade team. We knew each other's teaching styles, personalities, likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses. Essentially, I will have to start from scratch in learning those things from my new team. When added to the changes and challenges I have already discussed the coming school year seems quite a daunting task to overcome.
Above and beyond all of these impending changes, and the one I am most concerned with, is the fact that I will be teaching many of the same students I taught last school year when they were in the 7th grade. I feel certain that many students will be thrilled with the idea of me being their language arts and/or social studies teacher again, and yet I also know that many students will not be pleased to have me as their teacher for another 180 days. People change and this is particularly true for students at the middle school level that are constantly dealing with the hormonal ups and downs and everything else that adolescence brings with it. At that age things that were once 'cool and fun' can become 'dull and unwanted' instantly, and vice versa. My other concern is how I will react and teach the same students I had last year. In some ways it will work to my advantage to already know my students, and in other ways I feel it will be detrimental because I will have no way of knowing in the beginning if that particular student has changed and/or matured. In part their (my students) reaction(s) to me will come from the changes they will have to deal with from me. Many of the things I could do at the 7th grade level will not work at the 8th grade level, so it will be fascinating to see what happens.
I will keep you posted! :)
Along with those major changes and challenges I will face next year there is also the fact that I will have to get to know and work with an entirely different team of teachers and personalities. That also brings with it a certain level of anxiety, because I had developed a nice comfort level with my 7th grade team. We knew each other's teaching styles, personalities, likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses. Essentially, I will have to start from scratch in learning those things from my new team. When added to the changes and challenges I have already discussed the coming school year seems quite a daunting task to overcome.
Above and beyond all of these impending changes, and the one I am most concerned with, is the fact that I will be teaching many of the same students I taught last school year when they were in the 7th grade. I feel certain that many students will be thrilled with the idea of me being their language arts and/or social studies teacher again, and yet I also know that many students will not be pleased to have me as their teacher for another 180 days. People change and this is particularly true for students at the middle school level that are constantly dealing with the hormonal ups and downs and everything else that adolescence brings with it. At that age things that were once 'cool and fun' can become 'dull and unwanted' instantly, and vice versa. My other concern is how I will react and teach the same students I had last year. In some ways it will work to my advantage to already know my students, and in other ways I feel it will be detrimental because I will have no way of knowing in the beginning if that particular student has changed and/or matured. In part their (my students) reaction(s) to me will come from the changes they will have to deal with from me. Many of the things I could do at the 7th grade level will not work at the 8th grade level, so it will be fascinating to see what happens.
I will keep you posted! :)
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