by John Pearson
Her real name is Chandra, but I’m just going to refer to her from here on out as Lucifer, because I truly think she comes from Down Under! She enrolled last week in the fourth grade, but apparently, she never passed the TAKS reading test. So she got moved back to the third grade, and into my loving care.
I think this girl is clinically insane. Throwing off the stupor, today she sat in class and talked, hummed, screamed, made weird noises, and bothered the other kids. Whenever I tried to talk to her, she made random comments that didn’t make any sense, in a put-on, childish, high-pitched voice, at the top of her lungs.
Today was a test day, so during the exams, the kids all had their privacy screens up on their desks. A privacy screen is two manila folders stapled together that can be stood up to prevent kids from cheating. Think of them as micro-cubicles. The screens seemed to frustrate Lucifer, because she wasn’t as easily able to distract her fellow students. She sits at the same little table group as Carlos, Rachel, and Jessica. I had already heard Rachel tell her to stop bugging her, and I was standing behind their group as she kicked Carlos under the table. If I hadn’t been so ticked at Lucifer, I might have laughed and applauded Carlos’ reaction. Instead of the expected childish, “Stop it!” or kicking back, Carlos glanced up at me with a look and a gesture that clearly said, “What is the deal with this chick??”
I moved Lucifer out to the desk in my entrance alcove and told her to finish her test out there. When I went to check on her a few minutes later, she was sitting at the desk, wearing her backpack. In addition, she had lined up all of the other kids’ backpacks in little groups of two, like they were ready to board Noah’s Ark. Of course, her test had not been touched. I asked her to remove the backpack and get busy. She informed me in her loud, baby-talk voice that her “Auntie” had told her never to take her backpack off, or she would “get a whoopin’.” She’s also a bloody thief! Pinar complained about her Problem of the Day notebook missing this afternoon. Pinar sits at the same desk Lucifer does, so it wasn’t too hard to tag the culprit. Mrs. Swanson and I went into the gym while my homeroom was in P.E., and we looked through Lucifer’s backpack. You know we’re entitled to do that now, under the Patriot Act. Not only did we find both Pinar’s and Lucifer’s notebooks (which are supposed to stay in my room), we also found four boxes of crayons and two post-it pads from my room, and a tape dispenser from Mrs. Swanson’s room. Holy Five-Fingered Discount, Batman!
As of today, the school counselor’s cell phone number is high on my speed dial. I can already tell that I’ll be seeing a lot of Mrs. O’Brien.
And hey, speaking of crazy people (Lucifer, not Mrs. O’Brien), what is up with your customers in Boston? Don’t they realize that you can’t have 200,000 pumps ready for them tomorrow, for a buck apiece? Can I just say I do NOT miss those guys? Be sure to give them (half of) the peace sign for me next week while you’re up there.
Later,
Val Yumm
Date: Tuesday, September 16, 2003
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: Comparing apples and...other fruits
Hey bud, How’s the Big Apple? Or have you moved on to Philly already? Say hey to Jonas for me, and ask if he still wants his heat pumps painted bright green — he’ll know what you’re talking about. I’m assuming you brought your laptop with you so you can check your email. If not, maybe I’ll have to send a few prank emails to Reggie and Bert. I always did love messing with upper management.
Oh, and speaking of big apples, guess what happened today. One of my students actually came into class and gave me an apple! Here I always thought that was just an old cliché, seen only in old movies and TV shows like Little House on the Prairie, but I guess it truly happens!
First thing this morning, right after the bell had rung, the kids were wandering into my room. Anita came in, walked right over, shyly said, “Here, Mr. Woodson. It’s for you,” and handed me an apple. Wasn’t that nice of her? Anita is a real sweetheart, and with her, I trust that there is nothing wrong with the apple. If it had been Marvin or Sa’tun, I might have had to check for needle-marks or paint.
Now we’ll just have to wait and see what other teacher-related clichés are true. Like the kids asking me if I live at the school. Or the one I really hope is true — the kids giving me hundred dollar bills for Christmas. Are you familiar with that one? Happens all the time in the movies.
We worked on telling time and reading a clock today. All of the kids had little six-inch by six-inch clocks with adjustable hands at their desks. As an exercise, I would write a time up on the overhead (digital) and ask everyone to make that time on his or her clock (analog). Then I would walk around, checking their progress. When someone had displayed the time properly, I said, “Way to go!” and slapped their hand a low five. At one point, Thomson followed me halfway around the room, held out his hand, and asked, “Can I get another ‘Way to go?’” I guess his tank was running a little low. But hey, another happy customer! Unlike some of yours, from the sounds of things...
On to curriculum and testing — two things that I know are never far from your thoughts. A lot of the material that we’ve covered so far this year has been review for these kids, things they knew from the second grade. But pretty soon, we’re going to start to get into some of the new stuff, in preparation for the big TAKS test. I had always heard that the only two constants in life were Death and TAKSes, but it wasn’t until this year that I fully understood what that meant.
In case you didn’t know, TAKS does NOT stand for That Aggravating Kidney Stone. Rather, it is the Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills, and public school students take them from 3rd grade through high school. I really don’t know why they don’t just switch the K and the S and call it what it is. Believe me, they are a huge pain in the rear, perhaps more so even than a kidney stone.
3rd graders have to take a reading TAKS and a math TAKS. The reading TAKS is in March (the first one — they get three tries), and the math TAKS is in April. If they do not pass the reading TAKS, they cannot advance to the 4th grade. (Case in point — Lucifer) So there’s a bit of pressure on these kids, especially the ones who come from non-English speaking families (which is over half the class). I’ll try not to gripe too much about the TAKS in my emails, but once we hit January or February (crunch-time), all bets are off.
And speaking of my favorite student, Lucifer is holding constant in her unorthodox ways. She continues to insist that she is in the 4th grade (don’t I wish!), while she continues to act like she is a kindergartener.
I had been telling her that if she really wants to behave like a baby, then I would find a first grade classroom for her. Today, I made good on that threat. During our morning restroom break, I took Lucifer down to Frank Swanson’s room (Kelly’s husband). He was kind enough to take her off my hands for the day, though the embarrassment of being in a younger class apparently did not register with her. The first thing Frank said to me when the day was over was, “That girl is NUTS!!”
Yep, that’s my Lucifer. Oh, and thanks for the advice, Fred, but I’m pretty sure it would be unethical AND illegal to slip barbiturates into her chocolate milk in the hopes of getting her back to that initial comatose state. But I continue to welcome your thoughts and ideas.
Later,
Froot Loop
Date: Thursday, September 18, 2003
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: Can I get some ketchup for my shoe?
Hey frequent flier, Glad to hear that the trip is going well. For all his Type-A, heart-attack-waiting-to-happen personality, Philby really is a good guy, and he’s definitely fun to travel with. I can’t believe he wasn’t open to the Barry White suggestion, though.
You also mentioned a great teacher cliché in your last email. You’re right, on TV and in movies, school kids DO set their teachers up on hot dates all the time! That would be awesome! But I have a feeling I’ll just have to settle f
or the apple.
Oh boy, I really committed a big-time faux pas (that’s French for royal screw-up) tonight. When I tell you what happened, I know you’re going to ask if Larry was somehow involved, but no, this was all me.
We had a sort of open house this evening at the school so that all of the parents who wanted to come and meet their children’s teachers could do so. In turn, this was our first meeting with several of the kids’ folks.
We all congregated in my room to begin. The room was packed with the seven third grade teachers, our grade chair, and I’d guess about sixty parents, along with their third graders and siblings. Oh, and a translator of course, for all of the Spanish-only speaking people.
We all had a role in the spiel that was delivered to the parents. One teacher talked about the TAKS tests, another talked about the homework schedule. My part was to stress the importance of getting their kids to school on time, AND to make sure they knew that the school day actually starts at 7:53, and not at 8:00 as is commonly believed. If that doesn’t make a lot of sense to you, I don’t wonder. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me either, and I’m really not sure how well it stood up under translation to another language.
After the group part was over, the other teachers went back to their rooms and the parents followed. As a result, my room cleared out a great deal and I got to meet some of my students’ parents.
First I talked with Ariel’s folks, who are very nice people. Ariel is a very polite, almost somber little girl. Wednesday Addam’s temperament, without all the black clothing. While I spoke with her parents, she and her sisters calmly and quietly played math games on the white-board. After asking my permission, of course. I also met Guadalupe’s and Sandra’s mothers. Neither of them spoke English, and our original translator had left, so the girls translated. Though I spoke with them at separate times, both of them expressed the same major concern — “Is my daughter doing her homework?” I told the girls to take their mothers over to the homework chart on the wall, where each was able to point out her unbroken string of stickers, and this appeased the madres. If only Ralph or Esteban’s mothers would show similar concerns!
Then came the foot-in-mouth portion of the evening. Laura, from Mrs. Swanson’s homeroom, was in my room, and two people were with her. Laura is very precocious, and she seems to know a lot of stuff about a lot of stuff. Both of the people with her looked pretty young — one was thin with long blonde hair, wearing a skirt, while the other was heavy-set, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt and sporting a buzz-cut. They started asking about Laura’s progress in class, and we spoke for a few minutes. Then I made the big mistake of asking who they were.
In retrospect, I think the misstep was mainly in the phrasing. I probably should have just asked, “And how are you related to Laura?” Even a simple but direct, “Who the hell are you?” would have been better, actually. But no, I went on my assumption (like an idiot) and asked, “So, are you Laura’s brother and sister?”
At that, the “sister” kind of smirked, while the “brother” matter-of-factly stated, “I’m her mother.”
Yeah. But I think I recovered quite nicely, and I did what anybody naturally would have done in this instance. I put on my best Homer Simpson voice and yelled, “AWKWARD!” No, I’m just kidding. We tried to carry on the conversation like nothing had happened, but I could tell that the room had gotten considerably colder.
At least I learned a valuable lesson tonight. I certainly won’t be making THAT assumption again! Or at least not vocalizing it...
Later,
The village idiot
Date: Monday, September 22, 2003
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: Professor Plum, in the Cafeteria, with the...fish stick???
What’s up, Fred? Welcome back to Big D and 100+ degree temperatures! I’d invite you over for a swim, but I think my apartment people are still celebrating St. Patrick’s Day. The water is an eerie shamrock green shade.
A new little girl joined my class today. Her name is Francine. She’s already in the special education program, and she seems quiet and shy. She hardly spoke at all today, and before long, a teacher’s aide came to take her to the library for testing. Hopefully this is not merely the calm before the storm, as in Lucifer: Part 2 (Demonic Boogaloo).
Also, at lunch today, Marvin never showed up at the teacher’s lounge. Normally, this would be fine — preferable even — but since he is in trouble again (clearly his personal state of equilibrium), he is required to stay in from recess all of this week. Instead of going outside when he finishes his lunch, he is supposed to come down to the teacher’s lounge and sit out in the hallway where we can keep an eye on him. But today, he was a no-show.
When Mrs. Swanson and I went outside to pick up the kids, Marvin wasn’t outside either. I asked where he was, and Nathan answered, “He’s still in the cafeteria. He got in trouble for throwing food.”
Throwing food — that’s typically NOT a good thing to hear one of your kids has been doing. But then, people generally don’t come up to me and tell me that Marvin has just saved a litter of kittens from certain death or delivered hot meals to the elderly. And in his defense, throwing food IS better than choking someone — regardless of how hard.
I left Mrs. Swanson with both classes, and I went to the cafeteria to find Marvin. Sure enough, there he was, standing right by the door, wearing his patented “I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I’m mad that I got caught” pout. As we walked back outside to the rest of the class, I asked him why he had been throwing food. As you might guess, I got the standard shoulder shrug and “I dunno.” As he shrugged, something caught my eye, and I looked more closely at Marvin. I noticed a little bit of fish stick breading on one of his eyebrows. At that point, I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or offer him some tartar sauce.
I can only guess what kind of crumbs (or sauce) will be on Marvin’s face tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. On a totally unrelated note, have they started hiring again at Heat Pumps Unlimited?? Just curious.
Oh, and I’m glad to hear that everyone on your end got a kick out of my foot-in-mouth story. Please tell Tom Winter that no, I did not make things even worse by asking Laura’s mother if she was pregnant. That just wouldn’t have been polite, and I would never intentionally do such a thing. But I did ask her how long she was.
Later, The Gorton Fisherman
Date: Wednesday, September 24, 2003
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: Time Wasters Anonymous
Hey Freddie, You don’t have to remind me, I ate lunch with Latya frequently, so I remember his tendency to catch food particles in that goatee of his. He was just saving a few morsels to snack on later. But we’re talking about an EYEBROW here. That just ain’t normal.
We waste so much time in class every day, it’s not even funny. It seems that for every one minute of productive class time, I spend five minutes getting the kids back on track! This is really getting frustrating, so today I did something about it.
With about ten minutes left to go in class, I gave every child a piece of paper and told them to write down some reasons WHY we’ve been wasting so much class time and some ways to STOP wasting time. In addition to making them stop and think about the problem, I figured it’s good writing practice for them.
Of course, it was no huge surprise to read the papers and find that not a whole lot was being said. For the most part, the kids wrote down WHAT they have been doing, not WHY. “We are playing when we should be listening,” and “I am sorry for talking when you are,” appeared several times. Ralph and Lindsay both started their notes with, “I am,” and ended with “sorry.” In between those words, they were apparently having a contest to see who could write the word “very” the most times (Ralph won, 19-11).
I told the kids that I was going to hold on to these notes so that the next time they started fooling around,
I could pull them out and have them re-read what they had written, to see if they were living up to the promises to behave better. Now there’s an empty threat if ever there was one. There were a few standouts in the letter pile: Guadelupe and Esteban both ended their notes with, “I love you, Mr. Woodson.” (And really, how come you never end your emails that way?)
I got a new student in my class today. His name is Clark, and I don’t think I heard him say a word all day. He wrote in his note, “I am sorry I talked. I will never do it again.” Imagine how wonderful I feel now...
But the prize for top-notch writing goes to Ariel. Whereas most of the kids just said they were sorry for talking, Ariel actually critiqued the system. Here’s an excerpt from her front-and-back suggestion page:
I think that people act up because sometimes you give them too many warnings. You say you are going to put them in time-out, but then you don’t. Maybe you should give one warning and then people get in trouble. Or you should try a different system because right now we are still wasting time.
Yipes! Smacked down by a third grader! But that’s good ol’ Ariel, telling it how it is. And of course she’s right. Shocking as it is to see such frankness from an eight-year-old, she hit the nail right on the head. It’s such a shame that I must kill her now...
Just kidding. Actually, if you want, I could send Ariel over your way one day to help brainstorm ideas for more efficient factory flow. She seems to be cut out for the consulting profession.
Talk to you later,
Chaz Tiste
Date: Friday, September 26, 2003
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: Dancing with the devil
Hey buddy, OK, OK, I promise I’ll hold off on sending Ariel your way since you’re already getting enough criticism at HPU from Reggie. Don’t let him get to you too much, he’s just a very intense, very focused guy, especially in status meetings. I remember the status meeting after my first design had shipped to the customer. When we started talking about that project, Reggie asked, “How did it go?” and I replied, “I think by FedEx.” Everyone in the room laughed except for Reggie. He’s just focused. Or maybe he has a tapeworm, one of the two.
