Parent /Teacher/ Entire World Conferences. But It's Private, So It's OK.

Look, all I'm saying is that we need to think a little bit more about the way technology affects our lives. We all know that news travels faster than - you know - EVERYTHING, but I fear that we don't recognize that OUR news is the news that is traveling.

Yesterday I had an issue with a teacher at the high school who chastised my daughter in front of her friends, because she had the audacity to come in after school and turn in a paper that had been due 3 hours earlier.

You know, I get it. Work should be turned in on time. But when my normally thick skinned daughter came back to the car and burst into tears? Really? I had to do something.

I came home, left a voice-mail for the teacher, and had a return phone call within about 5 minutes, at which time he gave me his idea of what had happened, I told him how I felt about it, and though it was a somewhat difficult conversation, I think it was diplomatic - on both our parts- and after about 15 minutes I thought we had come to a consensus about what needed to happen in the future.

(and if you think the fact that I am talking about an English teacher means that I'm going back to fix that last run-on sentence, you don't know me at all)

It was a fine conversation. At the end of it he actually thanked me for calling, and I thanked him for the discussion.

How interesting then, that by the time I got off the phone and talked to my daughter about the phone conversation, (what, maybe 10 minutes?) By the time that happened, she flipped on her facebook page to find several messages about the incident, and events that were going on in the classroom DURING our phone call.

Apparently, he had listened to my voice-mail on speakerphone. With students still working in the room.  And then, he proceeded to call me back immediately. Not on speakerphone, but his entire side of the discussion took place in front of her peers.

*AGAIN*

They, in turn, then started posting facebook messages to ask her if she was ok? and was she really crying? and let her know that -- boy he seemed angry while he was talking, and apparently he wasn't as satisfied as I was about the way the conversation had ended.

Then other kids started chiming in about things that had happened during the day, and apparently Mr. English (not his real name- in case you were wondering about the odds of that happening!) had a pretty bad day yesterday all the way around.

It doesn't excuse any of the things that happened, but it does give me a reason to cut him some slack.  For now.  Depending on how today goes. 

My point, though, is ---
I kinda think that from here on out, I am going to assume that very little I say is private, or will be kept that way.  Between texting, twitter,  facebook, email, blogging, youtube, speaker phones, and whatever the newest, latest thing on the horizon is - I think you can pretty much guarantee that what you say is available to the world.  And will be around for a long long time.

Dangit.  Because this probably means I'm going to have to learn to think before I talk.

Undecided

I haven't decided how I feel about today, yet.

My baby started high school.

I dropped her off, and she quickly found a friend and hurried into the building, nervous and eager to start her high school career, and just like her first day of kindergarten, she never looked back once.

I drove away trying to decide whether or not to spontaneously burst into tears like I did on her first day of kindergarten. ( I know there's something wrong with that sentence, but it's really what happened.)

The known vs the unknown.

I've never been really good at change.

Wardrobe Dilemma

• Subbing in 6th Grade.
• on a Friday.
• The week before school gets out.

You make the call:

This?


Or this?


Yeah, that's what I thought, too.

Advanced Placement? or Academic Poison?

I know AP stands for one of those... You make the call.


So Lizzie has been recommended for some AP classes at high school. Which is really great. It's a huge ego booster, and vote of confidence from some of the toughest teachers in the school. We're so proud of her!

There's a caveat, though. When she went to discuss the English class with the AP teacher, he told her in no uncertain terms, that it was a very difficult class. She'll learn more than any other class she's ever taken, but if she chooses to enroll, she needs to know up front that he DOES NOT CARE about her grade or her GPA.

He grades very strictly, yet fairly, and even his very brightest students do not usually fare better than a C.

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't most kids in AP classes to better their chances of getting into the university of their choice? What kid who is driven enough to be recommended for AP classes, doesn't mind taking a hit on their GPA?

I'm looking at my beautiful, talented, smart daughter, and wondering why she is even considering this class. She has aspirations to attend BYU - which you may already know is quite selective, and she is already on the low side of their GPA scale.

She desperately wants to do it.

Her thinking is that when she leaves to attend college, she wants to really know that she has all the information she can. She likely thinks the teacher is exaggerating and trying to scare off kids that aren't willing to work hard. And she's plenty willing to work hard, so what's the problem?


My thinking is that she will then be the most prepared person in the freshmen English class at the local community college, because her GPA can't take that kind of hit. I think that when the teacher tells you up front that you won't get a good grade, you should plan on it.

I'm just wondering what it is that is SO important to learn, yet we don't teach it to anyone else in the school.

Let her do it? or step in and just forbid it?

No, I don't have ADD. Or Do I?

So I subbed in the second grade yesterday.

I was monitoring seat work when I heard this hissing coming from a cute little girl in the doorway. She had taken a wooden bathroom pass ( about the size of a half ruler) and had been gone longer than I care to admit. OK fine - I forgot she was gone. Are you happy?

"Mrs. JustRandi! I neeeeeed to talk to you OVER HERE!"
"Ok. What's going on?" I walked over to the doorway, and I could see that we were near tears.

"Mrs. JustRandi! I just dropped the pass in the toilet!"

Alrighty. Well, I sure as heck know who's NOT going in after it.

"What should I do?"

"You should pull up the arm of your sweater, and reach in and get it. And then wash your whole arm and the pass 3 times with soap."

The eyes got HUGE, and she nodded and left.

I don't know exactly how long it actually takes a 7 year old to wash the pass and one arm off 3 times. But I am embarrassed to say that when she got back - her arm and the offending wood still dripping - I had yet again forgotten about her and already taken the rest of the class and dropped them off for their class in the music room.

I know. I'm awesome.

Scary Story

The other day I was subbing in the 6th grade. During reading groups one group finished a story about a teenage boy who was a bit troubled, so his family sent him to live with his uncle in the mountains of Colorado. He didn't like his uncle's rules, ran away, spend a couple of nights lost in the mountains, and then it snowed. Just when we thought he was a goner for sure, you know, going in and out of consciousness, he spotted an orange tent, and started dragging himself toward it.
Next thing we know, he's waking up dry and warm inside a sleeping bag in the orange tent, while a stranger brings him soup and dries his clothes by the fire. The boy's uncle comes to find him and thanks the stranger profusely for not letting his nephew die of hypothermia.

So after we finished the story, we were supposed to have a discussion to make connections between real life and what we had just read. I asked, "Has anyone in this group ever helped a stranger in trouble?"

There was a resounding and very proud "NO!"

Oh. Puzzled, I asked, "OK, why not?"

"Because the stranger could be a kidnapper." "Or a mass murderer." " Or a child molester," the group replied.

It became clear to me what was going on. I then asked, "If your parents were with you, do you think it would be a good idea to help someone who was about to freeze to death?"

Again the answer - "NO!" "What if they were faking being frozen?" "What if you helped them, and then when they got their strength back, they turned out to be a mass murderer?"

The list of reasons NOT to help went on and on. When asked what they thought SHOULD happen, the answers ranged from calling 911, to just leaving the person to die.

Now, as a teacher - and a substitute at that, it's not my job to undermine what parents have determined to teach their children. I did try to leave them with the thought that occasionally people really do need help. Their job as a child is to GET AN ADULT to help them. Their job when they are adults is to make sure people get help. Even if that means sometimes it's you doing the helping.

And I thought about what a scary world we live in. Scary because we have to teach our children to be constantly on guard from this kind of stuff. But really for me, even scarier that we have taught them so well to protect themselves, that there is no room in their heads or hearts for idea that maybe others need protection and help, too.

It's getting scarier all the time, people.

Where School Supplies Go To Die

Fall is my very favorite season. I love the leaves. I love the coolness in the air, and I definitely, definitely have always loved school supply shopping. There's such promise in a newly sharpened pencil, isn't there? And surely nothing but "A" papers could be written in a cute spiral notebook with a spunky stripe pattern on the front.
I love school supplies. And have you seen the new twist up colored pencils? Truly, people, my toes get a little tingly at the sight.

So...
... as is customary in our schools, a week before school started this year, we were given The School Supply Lists. Now, for many years past, as soon as I have received The Lists, I would immediately buckle everyone into their little carseats, and head straight for the nearest school supply nirvana.
We would spend hours searching the aisles and a boatload of cash (or credit card debt) to make sure we had everything on The List. Everything. In the exact right size, and the right color, on the right day.
It would always take several trips, and always several different stores - but I didn't mind at all, because it's school supply shopping (which I love), and it's promising me that fall is around the corner (which I also love).
And we have been determined. No stone has gone unturned. I mean, if that list said 4 inch 3-ring binder, I once went to every office supply chain in the Denver metro area. We actually SPECIAL ORDERED that 4 inch 3-ring binder, so that we would have it on the first day, as required by The List.

For a full week every summer, The List has run our lives.

And? On the first day of school? Did I get a special little note sent home, that said something like, "Congratulations! Your child has the perfect supplies at the perfect time. Thank-you for being a responsible parent."
Ahem.
No, I did not.

What I did get, was that SAME book-bag that went to school full, coming home full, and my students coming home full of helpful information like this:

• Yeah, that pack of 3X5 cards The List said every foreign language student needed? That was just something the advanced Cantonese teacher threw on there. We don't need it for Spanish.
• The composition book? My English teacher says actually a small spiral would be better. I need it by Friday.
• The 4inch 3-ring binder? The one we special ordered? The Science teacher is sorry that she didn't know those aren't normally carried in stores. She says now we need 4 one -inch binders instead.
  
• Highlighters? My teacher says any color but yellow. That part got left off The List.
  

And on, and on.....

And so the first day or two of the school year have always been ruled by The Modified List. Pretty much doing the whole thing over again.

Now, I DO love school supply shopping. But I do NOT like wasting my money. Well, at least if I'm wasting it, I want to do it right and buy the extra cute flowery thumbtacks for my bulletin board. And the matching whiteboard markers with the flower caps, and did I mention those twist up colored pencils? You know - stuff we could all enjoy.

NOT on a bunch of "extra" school supplies that end up in our giant supply box in the basement. I'm pretty sure you could call it Supply Hell down there - there are so many things in that box not fulfilling the measure if their potential. Right now down there are at least 12 yellow highlighters, 8 spiral notebooks, 3 packs of notebook paper in the unacceptable Wide Rule, approximately 43 report covers (some with pockets, some without), and a whole mess of other things.

And SO, my friends, THIS year I refused. I took each kid the day before school started to buy the spiral notebook of their dreams, and bargained that we would go immediately after school on the very first day and buy anything else their teacher's little hearts desired.

That was yesterday.

I made the pick-up from school, went for the celebratory ice-cream cone (first day tradition) and then headed for the office supply store.

Where are we going? Mimi asks.
Supply shopping - I reply,
Ummm. I don't need any supplies.
What? No supplies? You had a 2 page list yesterday.
Well, I need a couple of pocket folders, but I'm pretty sure there are some in the supply box in the basement.

Yeah, like about 43. In assorted colors.

Maybe this would be a good time to say to all my teacher friends - I heart you , and I feel your pain. I know they make you turn in your supply list in the spring, and then they just compile those things and throw everything on there. It's not your fault.

The one thing that has NEVER been returned to my house is that box of Kleenex. I don't know if it's the same where you live, but here, every child is required to bring a box of Kleenex to be shared with the class, replacing, as needed, the box that sits on the teacher's desk.

Can anybody really imagine that the 6th grade class is actually going to go through 30 boxes of Kleenex in the next year? Hey! Maybe we could cut down on the next tax increase by actually emptying that Kleenex vault that must be somewhere under the school, and renting it out as storage space.