Super Quotes from a Super Student

The person who is responsible for sending me the following hilarious quotes knows who he is and I thank him once again.  Before you read these real quotes spoken by a real student I want you to know that my only wish would be for you to actually see the student who says these things, because it would make what you're about to read even funnier. All I'm at liberty to say is that he is an 11 year old country boy. I promise all my faithful readers that all of the following quotes are real. Enjoy and I hope you get a laugh....

You see my sister, she may look nice but the devil is in her soul!

What's that word?   "Bangladesh"
Ok, because I don't speak i-raqi!

I'm a true carnivore, because I know my meats.

I can't take ritalin, it makes me see things that aren't there...


I shot a mouse in the head with my bb gun...then my dog ate it

I caught a mouse once with my bare hand, you have to be quick and quiet

I like badminton because I am good at it

You know the song by Michael Jackson "somebody's watching me," my mom got drunk and sang it in a bar

I am a husky boy (smiling)

And finally...
Don't approach a donkey from the rear, a bull from the front, or a fool from any direction!

Hope that put a smile on your face! :)

Vocational Program Anyone?

This just in! Newsflash! Newsflash! In case anyone out there was unaware, not every student that enters our classroom each day is destined for college. 1) Some students quite simply do not have what it takes to get into college, particularly at the university level, and 2) some students quite simply have absolutely no desire to attend college.

Want to prevent and/or decrease drop out rates? BRING BACK VOCATIONAL PROGRAMS AND GIVE OUR STUDENTS SOME FRIGGIN OPTIONS.  IF WE PROMOTE AND NURTURE OUR STUDENTS INTEREST, THEY WILL STAY IN SCHOOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Successful versus Unsuccessful

Before I begin I would like to apologize to myself and my few, but passionate, faithful followers for my lack of blogs in recent months.  Without boring you to tears, I'll just say that I've been very busy. I have made a promise to myself to write at least one blog a week from now on. I think I can, I think I can....

It is said that your first year of teaching is the most difficult.  Whoever says these things have also said that one of the best things about teaching is that you can always start fresh each year.  I bring all this up because my experience this school year has included aspects reminiscence of my first year in that I went from teaching 7th grade to 8th grade.  I've also had to adjust to working with new colleagues (principal included) and a new curriculum. As I have mentioned in previous blogs, teaching the same students two years in a row has had both advantages and disadvantages. All in all I feel like teaching the same students from last year has made me a much better teacher, primarily because it has forced me to think outside the box.  Essentially, I was not afforded the gift of a fresh start this year.  I began the year knowing most of the students very well and vice versa.  Again, this provides advantages and disadvantages...if you're a teacher I think you can infer what these are.

The purpose for bringing all this up is to say that I decided before this school year began to use this year to try many different teaching and classroom management strategies.  As with most things in life there have been ups and downs.  One of the positives is that I really feel like I have a better understanding of what it takes to be a successful student at the middle school level.  Of course that means I also feel like I have a better understanding of what it takes to be an unsuccessful student at the middle school level. Please enjoy my breakdown, and feel free to add, subtract, agree, or disagree with anything on my lists.

Successful students...
                                 listen and obey directions
                                 follow rules and procedures
                                 complete all assignments on time
                                 are intrinsically motivated
                                 having caring and supportive parents
                                 value education
                                 study
                                 apply themselves
                               
Unsuccessful students...
                                 rarely listen and/or follow directions
                                 pick and choose what rules and procedures to follow (if any)
                                 Pick and choose what assignments to complete and
                                 whether or not to turn them in
                                 are motivated by receiving incentives for doing stuff
                                 they are supposed to do anyway
                                 have uncaring and nonsupportive parents
                                 place little or no value on education
                                 cannot even spell the word study
                                 are lethargic superstars

Here's Some Data For You!

With so much focus being placed on the importance of data and data driven instruction in today's public schools, I can only hope that the 'powers that be' realize that despite their best efforts there will never exist  any data that will ever show or tell...

how much teachers sacrifice for their students.

the massive amount of time that teachers spend not in celebrating most of their student's wonderful achievements, but in agonizing over the one kid that they were never able to reach.

Nor can a number, score, or statistic ever show how much of a positive impact a teacher has had on a student that...

comes to school each day to enjoy the one meal he or she will likely get for the entire day

only recieves kind words, safety, and love when in that teacher's classroom

is regularly abused at home

has to spend his or her nights making sure their drunk father does not beat up their mom when he gets home

lives in abject poverty

The list could go on and on, but from my perspective what is most important to understand and remember is that within the public school's current obsession with data and data driven instruction is the fact that behind each of those numbers, decimal points, bar graphs, and fancy excel spread sheets is a student and a teacher. A student that could be having the best childhood of anyone on earth, or a student that is experiencing things daily that most of us would not wish on our worst enemy.  Behind those numbers are also teachers...a few of which burned out years ago and could care less, but so many more that passionately sacrifice their time, money, sweat, family, and yes tears to make sure that every single student that steps into their classroom each day walks out a better person than they were before.

What if...

What if...

the very last option for reducing the state's massive debt was to make cuts in an already struggling education system?

North Carolina was not ranked 31st in average public school teacher salaries?

more parents gave a flying rip how the continued budgetary shortfalls are affecting their children's education by forcing the most qualified educators to find employment elsewhere?

all the members of the North Carolina General Assembly took a 20-30% paycut?

each parent in this state was required to spend 2 full weeks per school year in the classroom with the teachers?

each member of the North Carolina General Assembly was required to spend 2 full weeks per school year in the classroom?

the average joe knew how much dedicated educators give of themselves, time, and money in the slightest hope that we can make a difference in at least one kid's life?

teachers were allowed to educate students in the classroom, instead of teaching students only the skills needed to pass an EOG (end of grade) test?

all students cared as much about their learning as teachers do?

all parents cared as much about their child's learning as teachers do?

North Carolina General Assembly members cared as much about the state's children as teachers do?

What if...?
What if...?
What if...?

As a wise old man once told me, "What if the Queen had balls?", you guessed it...she'd be King!

The Bus Stop pt. 3

Before reading part 3 I would suggest you go back and reread part 1 from August 26th and part 2 from September 8th. Enjoy part 3 and be sure to become a follower if you're not already. Part 4 will be here before you know it. :)

Since last week my world has flipped upside down…literally and figuratively. Since last week there is not much I wouldn’t give to return to my once boring, but beautifully predictable life. As I’m rotated upside down in an attempt to use traction to heal my broken back (I was serious about my world literally turning upside down) I cannot help but think how one day I’m a nobody going through life’s daily highs and lows; one day later I’ve become an urban legend. You have undoubtedly read or listened to several different versions of what happened last week at the bus stop. Though I’m sure the people who were there believe in their heart of hearts that what they saw actually happened, I must respectfully ask you to ignore all you’ve read or heard as I’m about to relay what really happened.


Before I begin I must admit that throughout so much of my life I have never been particularly religious, but if there is a higher power I mustn’t go any further without thanking him or her for blessing me with a nurse caring, or perhaps curious enough, to listen and record my story as it truly happened. Another in my long list of injuries obtained from last week’s ‘incident’ is the fact that I’m told I fractured both eye sockets. The terrible swelling has rendered me temporarily blind, but luckily I am still able to speak and hear relatively well during the fleeting moments of consciousness I have had since I arrived.

I never know how long I will be conscious, but once I’m aware enough to do so I call for the nurse. Ideally, the nurse whom I’ve begun to tell the true story of what occurred last week is on duty and has time to transcribe my version of what occurred for however long I’m awake. Unfortunately, the nurse only comes about half the time I call. Other nurses I do not care to speak with float in and out, but I remain quiet. At any rate…enough about how you are able to read this, and onto The Bus Stop as I like to call the incident.

Though the city of Savannah is quite car friendly, despite it’s size and population, I have been taking the bus to and from work for the past several years for really no other reason than the fact that it’s cheaper, and other than work I do not really have anywhere to go or anyone to see. Roughly two weeks before the ‘incident’ I arrived at the bus stop as usual on my way to work the early shift as a produce manager at Kroger supermarket. Not a prestigious occupation by any stretch of the imagination but it is an honest living, and one I rather enjoy because it does not allow for a lot of pointless chit-chat with co- workers or customers. The normal cast of characters was at the bus stop that morning two weeks ago…an older one legged housekeeper named Penelope, a middle aged Asian man who works at a family owned shoe repair store in the downtown area, and a variety of day laborers traveling to destinations unknown.

Originally from the Dominican Republic, Penelope has been a staple at this bus stop six out of seven mornings since I began traveling by bus. Throughout the years we have spoken once in awhile, mostly morning pleasantries about the weather, but I learned from her talks with others at the stop that she lost her right leg just below the knee as a child in her home country. Apparently her father accidentally ran over her with a tractor as she was playing tag with her older brother in the sugarcane fields. Thom, the Asian shoe shop man, talks incessantly to anyone that will listen, but I could not begin to tell you anything about him other than what I already have. He became a regular at the stop about a year ago, and I do everything in my power to avoid him. Thom is a man with constant problems, and a constant need to tell people about them. I suppose in his own way he may be a nice man. However, my life, until recently, has been carefully designed to be as problem free as humanly possible, so I have no desire to listen to other’s issues.

I saw him as the bus approached the stop that morning two weeks ago. Several things went through my mind as I watched him sitting at the rear of the bus…is someone playing a joke on me, is it simply a coincidence that someone is dressed in all white wearing a white hat, or am I just seeing things. As quickly as these thoughts went through my mind, I realized that I had never told anyone of the man in white that haunts my dreams. No one could have played this incredibly cruel joke on me, because no one knew about the man in white. My next hope that someone was simply dressed in all white was quickly dashed as I realized that just like in my dreams I could not see the man’s face. That left the final option, and the one I was so reluctant to face, that I was seeing things. I have no family history of dementia, schizophrenia, or hallucinations, so the possibility I was experiencing any of these left me paralyzed with fear.

At the moment as the bus came to a complete stop, I was only vaguely aware of the customers exiting and entering the bus. My entire being was absorbed by the man in white sitting on the back of the bus. So frozen in time was I that not even Penelope could roust me from my trance…”Eliot, the bus is here. Eliot!” In the end her need to be to work on time outweighed her need to make sure the man she barely knew, though he was at the bus stop every morning, got on the bus. That morning I never did get on the bus. I also never took my eyes off the man in white. As the bus slowly pulled away from the stop, the man in white’s head methodically turned to face me and he nodded. Still unable to see his face I watched as the brim of his oversized hat went up and down as he nodded. To this day I can not tell you how long I stood frozen at the bus stop after the bus rolled away. It could have been thirty seconds or three hours. My next conscious moment of awareness occurred as the cab I decided to take to work turned into the Kroger parking lot. All day long I could not get the man in white off my mind. How was it possible that the man in white…the goddamned man in white who had been part of my dreams for as long as I could remember suddenly manifest himself into my waking reality?

Testicles & Poop

Now that I've grabbed your attention from the very intriguing title I will do what I can to keep it. For any new readers I would like to caution you that I live by the philosophy that it is better to laugh than cry. For all my loyal followers I would like to remind you of my philosophy, and beg of you to keep it in mind as you read the following.

Yet another of the most uncomfortable times of my life occurred recently at the local learning center where I work part time.

As I prepared to work with my first student of the day, I also prepared myself mentally for what I knew was coming, as I had worked with the student several times before. The child has Down's Syndrome, and based on my time spent coaching Special Olympics for the past five years, I would describe him as low to medium functioning. The time arrives and in he walks/runs/hobbles over to my table. I know immediately that something is different about the student, because never before has he showed any trouble walking.

I did not have to wait long to find out what was different about the young man of 7 years old. In the past the student has had a very difficult time pronouncing even one syllable words, yet as he arrived at my table he happily announced to me, "I went to the doctor." Though slightly taken aback that an entire sentence had been spoken by him I replied, "Oh yeah...are you okay?" Why I set myself up like this I still wonder, but he instantly and loudly replied while pointing to his crotch in a room full of other students and instructors, "MY TESTICLES!"

Needless to say I nearly choked to death on my morning coffee that I happened to be sipping at the time. With every eye in the entire room on me now all I could think to say was, "OOOOkay." He would go on to point to his crotch and loudly say "TESTICLES!" a few more times before settling down. The only real positive to come of the situation is that I now knew why he was walking oddly.

For the next 15-20 minutes the young man worked very hard, and I mistakenly thought the worst was over. It was shortly after this wonderful thought crossed my mind that the young man's head snapped up and he announced, "I gotta poop." He was up and hobbling to the restroom before I had even processed what he had just said. As he was gone I sat there grateful for the peace and quiet. I checked the clock while he was gone to find that I unbelievably still had another 20 minutes to go before the end of the instructional hour. It would turn out to be the longest 20 minutes of my life. He returned from the restroom, and within about 10 seconds I realized that something had gone horribly wrong. I'm not sure what the young man's restroom experience was, but what I can state with certainty is that for the next 20 minutes of my life I felt as if I were living and breathing from inside a dirty diaper.

As the hour ended, I quickly got up and went to tell the center's director that I thought the young man had used the bathroom on himself. Her reply, "You can't be serious." to which I said "Sadly, I am." She looked at the student who was strolling bowlegged towards the exit door, looks back at me, and says, "Well you know he had surgery on his testicles 2 days ago." With that comment I clocked out and left the building. I do love teaching!