The Bouncy Balls

Best senior prank ever ... way better than letting 10 chickens loose in the school last year! During my first period class I sent a student out in the hall to "look sad" because she had angered me. What? You don't do that?

Anyway, as she returned minutes later she popped in the door and announced, "Dude, there are balls outside!" The customary giggles ensued, then I sought clarification in my customary way ... raising my eyebrows and stating "Quoi?" "Seriously, there are like a million bouncy balls out there!" A child in my own right, I quickly sent three students out with plastic bags to "do me a favor and get some balls!" Again, the giggles - but who cares?! I get balls!

When the chosen ones returned, there was treasure a plenty - a plethora of balls for everyone! Being the clan leader, I of course kept most for myself, but I did choose to share my booty with all of my students. Apparently, this was not the most intelligent leadership decision I would make that day. Ten minutes later, they were still not on task - they were playing with their balls. I had to announce, "Okay guys, put away your balls and get to work." I giggled (wouldn't you?)

Minutes later all but two students were back on task. Approaching the first easily distracted young lady, I stated, "I know you're having fun, but there's a time and a place - you need to put your balls away ..." [insert giggle again] She acquiesced. I then approached the second student, a young man. "Dude, you need to stop playing with your balls and get to work," did I mention that he's the only male in the class? After the onslaught of giggles were quelled by my raised eyebrow, I turned to him again only to see that he continued to play and seemed to have no intention of conceding.

Finally, I stated, "Okay, hand them over, you can have them back at the end of class." "Mrs. G - stop trying to take my balls!" was his well-worded response. [Oh, good. This will go well.] "I don't want them, I just need you to give them to me so you can focus better." "Why do you want my blue balls?!" Because the lack of creativity in this response, I sent him outside to the hall to look sad.

Five minutes later (after I had forgotten about him being out there), one of the other students declared with astounding steadiness in her voice, "Mrs. G, can Austin come back in? I think he's done playing with his balls in your class." Another students piped in, "Yeah, you put them in your desk, remember?" "And there they shall remain!"

Oh, God ... she's back.

As a child of the 90's who graduated high school in 2003, it was a general consensus among my generation that the 80's were the absolute worst decade for clothing and fashion in the 20th century. I know people who dressed as Cyndi Lauper for Halloween - not because she's a great singer, but because she was the archetype for the fashion disaster that was the 1980's. So what do we see passing for fashion now? Mini-Cyndis. Sadly, it's not a joke, it's not on homecoming's "Crazy Dress" week, it's not even a cry for attention ... it's their fashion. Am I getting old or is our society to the point of regressing? I know and have taught that fashion ideas cycle around every 20-30 years, but it's much more traumatic when you see the Halloween of your past prancing around in your room 8 hours a day. Happy Halloween kids!

Twisted Mother Goose

One of my favorite assignments in Child Development is when I have the students do some creative writing using one of the 8 Alternative Conception Options we learn about (i.e. In-Vitro, ZIFT, Artificial Insemination, Surrogacy, etc).

Below is one of the best from today's class as written. As you read it, keep in mind that there is only one male in the class, and he had the honor of saying only the words in parentheses ... try to imagine that if you will.

**Be warned: it is not a happy ending, and it's a little crude. **

Sex with Jack and Jill

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of "water" (sperm)

They had a few hurdles because Jack was infertile

And he wanted to soon be a father.

Jack fell down and broke his "crown" (penis)

And Jill needed his sperm

But there was none to be found.

They needed a donor

Because of Jack's broken (boner)

And they wanted a baby around

And with an idea quite terrific,

They went to the clinic

And Jill got injected with semen

And with her hopes up,

She got knocked up

And found out the following weekend.

And with bruises and headaches,

A little heartache

(Because frankly, irony kills).

The saddest thing since they married

Jill had miscarried

Because Jill had once more fell down the hill.

We've Got Spirit!

"Well class, on Monday we're going to start learning about male and female reproductive anatomy, menstruation, and conception so that we can have a deep understanding of prenatal development. I have a special box here [enter box with key terms written on the side: uterus, endometrium, sperm reservoir, testes, glans, urethra, etc] and you're able to put the questions burning up your little minds into the box without feeling all ... shall we say ... exposed."

At the mention of the word "uterus" the only male in the class of 25 students utters a simple, "Ew"

"Careful Austin, you're surrounded by 25 uteri ...

"We're going to do a penis cheer and then on Tuesday we're going to do a vagina cheer -"

One of the more vocal girls interjects, "What - like a cheer-cheer."

"Well kinda, it's more like when we go through the key terms I say the word and you repeat it ... with zeal ... and spirit-fingers."

"Dude - I'm not doing that."

"If you do it you get a sticker."

"Really? [momentary pause as she considers the possibilities] Is it a smelly sticker?"

"Nope, but it's pretty."

"Dude, I love stickers."

"Then bring your spirit-fingers on Monday!"

Balancing Acts

As teachers, balancing our personal lives and professional lives is always a challenge. Inevitably you use yourself as an example or incomporate an anecdote from your own experiences to establish an example or non example. It is so very easy to reveal too much. It's only natural; you're busy building relationships and trying to break through those tough shells of theirs to the creamy, maleable filling underneath. This is especially true of some of the Family Consumer Science classes (i.e. Parenting, Child Development I, Child Development II, etc.) Eventually, this will come back and bite you. Guaranteed. It's just a matter of how thick you skin is I suppose - how much you're willing to bleed. Yesterday I was bitten and it's very possible that I might be scared for life.

I am fortunate enough to have some students who are so loyal that they sign up for any of my 7 classes regardless of their interest in the subject just to be in my class. As a result, some of them know more about me than others. Of course they love to share that information too. Such was the case yesterday. During a review scession in Fashion class, I heard one student announcing to the class, "Dude, you should have seem Mrs. G's mom when she came and talked. [My mother came in to speak to my child development class as a former NICU nurse] Her mom was awesome - she brought us stuff to eat and then she was teasing Mrs. G about wanting grandbabies. Mrs. G was all embarassed and stuff. It was great." All eyes turn to Mrs. G. one of my newer students chimes in, "Do you have babies Mrs. G?" I decide to communicate that this is not my favorite topic by hesitating and then using nonverbal skills like tone and emphasis in the words that I choose. As I open my mouth dramatically and begin to respond, another student who has had many of my previous classes cuts in on my behalf, "Nope, she's waiting until her husband is done with college and gets a job." A third students turns to me and comments, "You better get going Mrs. G, you don't have a lot of time left!"

I have to talk over the giggles to defend myself, "I'm only 25!"

"Yeah, but I thought you told us that the older you get, the harder it is to get pregnant,"

"Uh, starting in your late 30's!"

"I dunno, you're getting up there!"

"Look, you need to be discussing Fashion, not my fertility - it's just plain creepy to talk about my uterus when we should be talking about principles of design!"

"What's the name of your favorite book again, Mrs. G?" (Okay, maybe this is a good sign that the conversation is heading in a better direction.)

"Wuthering Heights."

"Oh, that's the word I was looking for - withering. Like your withering uterus!"

Yep, I'm adding 20 questions to your final.

I think you missed a turn back there

I shared a touching moment with one of my students today. We were reminiscing about all that we'd done in class this quarter when she looked at me and spoke [I believe] directly from the heart in that oh-so-articulate teenage way: "Mrs. G., I wish you taught important classes - they'd be more fun." I must have made a face (like I could have stopped myself even if I wanted to) because before I had time to respond she stuttered a quick cover, "Uh, I don't mean that the classes that you teach aren't important; I just meant that you'd be great if you were an important teacher. [I can feel my eyebrows elevating on my forehead to my hair line - as is customary when I'm perturbed] I mean ... um ... what other classes do you teach again? I wanna take one of your courses next quarter too! I love you Mrs. G!" "Riiiiiight," Open mouth, insert foot, hop away.

Sinatra who?

Every kid remembers that old teacher, you know ... the one that you'd expect to have retired like 20 years ago. Well, I always thought that one of the benefits of being only 24 when I started teaching high school would be that I wasn't going to be completely disconnected from the kids' interests and the pop scene of the day. I even managed to wow a few kids my first year with my knowledge of terms like "scene kid" and "lolz". I thought I was set. More than once I've been told, "You're the coolest teacher - when you're not mean," or "you're crazy, but in a good way..." It all ended today. I suddenly feel the need to talk about my plethora of pet cats and start sentences with "back in my day, we ..."
Thinking that I was going to treat my kids so some not-so-crappy music (as opposed to the classical stress-relief CD I listen to I suppose) I'd play some good stuff. I turned on some Christmas music that I had purchased about a year ago - a Frank Sinatra and Bing Cosby Christmas CD. I was enjoying myself and my students were suspiciously quiet when one of my girls lets out a dramatic sigh followed by the exasperated statement, "Mrs. G, I swear you're turning into my grandma!" "Quoi?" I asked in a genuinely confused tone. "Yeah, she listens to this old stuff too." No. This isn't happening, "I know it's kinda old-school, but it's Sinatra - he's timeless!" Another girl pipes in, "Who?" She's as genuine and innocent as can be - I kinda wanna drop-kick her at the moment. Despite my instincts, I keep my cool and respond, "You know - Sinatra ... Rat Pack ... Ol' Blue Eyes?" "I think I've heard of him [oh thank God] ... isn't he kinda like Michael Buble?" That's it, we're listening to Mozart again ... at least he's old to everyone. "That's Life ..." (click it!)