by John Pearson
I said this helo assohle . I don’t know what I was thinking. It just poped out my moth.
And really, don’t you hate it when things just pope out your moth? Not wanting to send it home and risk another forged signature (I’m sure he’s been practicing since the last time), I called his mother after school and told her what had happened. To her credit, she didn’t laugh. In fact, I don’t think she found it very funny at all. Or, quite possibly, she hung up the phone and giggled till she wet her pants.
I don’t know about you, but I just don’t remember using much profanity in grade school. When we called each other names, they were childish nicknames of rear body parts and associated by-products. My parents told me one time that if I really wanted to call someone a name, I should do it intelligently and use big, sophisticated words. After all, I couldn’t get into trouble if the teacher didn’t even know what it meant. So at age 9, I started calling people “obsequious petards.” In layman’s terms, this translates roughly as “small farts.” I think if I heard any of my kids use the word obsequious in a sentence, I would give them an automatic A.
See ya,
Blue Streak
Date: Tuesday, October 28, 2003
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: Lunch and Marriage
Hey bud, I appreciate the article you forwarded to me from that “medical journal” website about ADHD and the new things they’re trying to cure it. However, this isn’t California, so I don’t think that anyone would approve of Marvin smoking marijuana in an attempt to settle him down. And frankly, your suggestion of slipping him some “special brownies” as a test could get me fired.
As a teacher, I only get half an hour for lunch, so I can no longer enjoy the luxurious full-service, sit-down banquets at fancy dining establishments, such as Taco Bell and Pizza Hut. Or what was that Indian cuisine place you guys always liked to go to? Eat Shi’ite and Thai? Too spicy for me.
I’ve been getting my lunch from the school cafeteria for most of the year. It’s cheap, plus the kind ladies in there usually load my plate up high. But every once in a while, I bring my own lunch. Today, I brought a clear Tupperware container of chicken noodle soup. Based on the kids’ reactions when they saw it, you would have thought I was handling a crucible full of liquid gold.
When I got the container out of my mini-fridge at lunch time, I heard murmuring, and one of the boys, in a state of near-rapture, exclaimed, “Whoa, check it out!” I think if I had stood before the kids and held my lunch up over my head, the kids would have fallen to their knees, proclaiming, “Soup! GLORIOUS Soup!!” These kids are really weird, man.
They’re also inherently curious. On our way to P.E. today, Sofia decided to grill me about my personal life. As I walked next to her and Pinar in line, I could tell from the whispers that they were up to no good. Sofia began with, “Mr. Woodson, are you married?” while Pinar giggled behind her. “No,” I replied. Without missing a beat, Sofia followed up, “Are you lonely?” While Pinar giggled even louder, and Sofia looked on expectantly and deviously, I just had to turn my head and start laughing. I couldn’t hide it.
Thankfully, within moments, we were at the gym door. I managed to stop laughing long enough to admonish Sofia not to ask such personal questions. She didn’t seem too deterred.
Kind of reminds me of the time last year when I was a student teacher, and one of the girls asked questions along those lines. She asked if I was married, I said no. She asked if I had any kids, I said no. She looked thoughtful for a second, and then said with finality, “Oh, so you’re JUST a teacher then.”
So now I have an epigraph for my tombstone — “Jack Montgomery Woodson: JUST a teacher.” Which of course we know is not true, I’m so much more. Teacher by day, super hero by night, couch potato by prime time. And of course, Devourer of the Golden Soup by lunchtime. All in a day’s work, my friend.
Talk to you later,
Miss Havisham
Date: Thursday, October 30, 2003
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: Get me to the church on time
Hey bud, Sitting around in my bathrobe, eating a pint of HaagenDazs while watching Oprah does NOT qualify me as lonely. Just because my last couple of dates haven’t panned out doesn’t mean I need to open up my home to all of the neighborhood cats just yet. Anyway, Sofia might change her opinion of me if she started hanging out with Miss Marsh’s kids more often. I think I’ve mentioned Stacy Marsh to you before, right? She and I went through the SMU program at the same time, we both did our student teaching here at the school last year, and now we’re both third grade teachers here. So we’ve become pretty good friends. She is engaged, and will be getting married in December. Her kids know that she is engaged, and they know that she and I are friends, but apparently they don’t have all of their details straight.
This morning, my class and Miss Marsh’s class happened to be out at the restroom at the same time, so we were chatting. One of Miss Marsh’s more inquisitive (nosey) students named Da’Neece came up to us and asked, “Miss Marsh, when you get married, are you going to change your name to Mrs. Woodson?”
I find it pretty humorous, but I think it makes Stacy mad. She told me that Da’Neece calls her Miss Woodson sometimes, when she wants to tick her off. Apparently, the girl has found a hot button. Go figure.
On a totally different topic, I think that after several months of trial and error, I have finally hit upon a decent system of maintaining discipline. It can easily be summed up in one word: Bribery. Sure, some teachers call it “Rewards” or “Incentives,” but let’s call a rose a rose, shall we? A while back, I went out and bought a bunch of kidfriendly goodies. Gel pens, colorful pencils and erasers, stickers, and other various sundries. These items were placed into a plastic basket, lovingly christened “The Treasure Chest.” Said Treasure Chest was then paraded around the room so all could catch a glimpse of potential happiness.
The delivery system, however, went through a few iterations. At first, when someone was, as they say, “caught being good,” I would write their name down on a little slip of paper and put the slip into a little basket. At the end of the week, I would pull three names out of the basket (in each class). The first name drawn would get to sit in my recliner for the rest of the class period. The second and third names would get to choose something out of my Treasure Chest — AKA “Prize Basket” — AKA “Bin O’ Bribery.”
However, stopping down the class to write down names on tiny pieces of paper didn’t seem to be the best idea, so I devised a new and more efficient delivery system. I went out and bought a roll of fair tickets (2,000 tickets for five bucks!), and now I give one to a child when they do something good, they write their own name on it, and they put it in the basket themselves.
Some of them go beyond putting merely their name on the tickets. Last Friday, I pulled out a ticket that contained Salma’s full name, address, telephone number, and school ID. I guess she wanted to be sure she got her prize. That girl is just a tad flaky. She actually takes pride in wearing a homemade T-shirt that reads, “Ditzy Spice.”
Our school already has a system in place of giving out red tickets to kids that are making good choices. MY tickets, however, are blue. If they’re going to earn prizes in my room, they need to have behaved well for ME. Some of the other teachers are a little over-enthusiastic about giving out these red tickets, and there have been times when Nathan or Esteban have come in brandishing 3 red tickets EACH! In my mind, it’s no good for them to be little hell spawns in my room, and then go cozy up to the librarian and come back with tickets.
This system seems to work pretty well, so far. It’s amazing how the mere mention of blue tickets can make the kids go from a noisy, amorphous crowd to a silent, militaryprecision line standing at attention. I hope this holds up!
Hey, you’re still going to Nancy’s friend’s costume party tomorrow night, right? Do you know what you’re g
oing to be yet? We could always team up and go as Before and After versions of that Jared guy from the Subway commercials. I’ll be the After, but I’ll need a lot more pillows.
See you then,
Jack O’Lantern
Date: Monday, November 3, 2003
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: World Wrestling Education
Hey dude, Great party on Friday night, eh? You seemed to be hitting it off with Little Red Riding Hood; any potential there? I finally got the nerve to strike up a conversation with that girl dressed as a corpse, but of course she had a boyfriend. It’s always the same. Why are all the dead ones taken?
Anyway, speaking of people in costume, I know what a big fan you are of professional wrestling. Right. Oh yeah, I must be thinking of somebody else. As I recall, you’ve given me hell for watching it sporadically myself. I’ll stick to the same reasoning I’ve always employed — I choose to be wellrounded. If I’m ever on Jeopardy! I’ll have a distinct advantage. Everybody knows Othello killed Desdemona, Caracas is the capitol of Venezuela, and Elvis and JFK are living together in Atlantis (paying rent to Big Foot!), but just how many people know whether or not The Rock gave a “People’s Elbow” to Triple H last week?
Another advantage is that I can understand what my students are talking about. Many of them watch RAW and Smackdown and talk about it, and though I don’t go into detailed discussions with them, I can at least follow the conversations.
Mark Peter takes it one step further. Instead of paying attention in class, or even attempting to work math problems, he routinely sits at his desk and makes hand gestures at other kids. In particular, a gesture made popular by a wrestler named John Cena. To perform this maneuver, you hold your right hand in front of your face as if you were examining the palm. Now, with your elbow acting as a pivot point, you move your hand left and right in an arc like a windshield wiper. The move is supposed to convey the message “You can’t see me.”
So Mark Peter sits at his desk and nonverbally tells the other kids that they can’t see him. I’ve heard of smash-mouth trash talking, but this is more “trash mime” than anything else. The funny thing is, most of the other kids are actually doing what they’re supposed to be doing, so they don’t see him anyway. Some would call that irony.
The really annoying part is that Mark Peter does this John Cena thing ALL THE TIME! It’s like a compulsion. In the classroom, in the line at restroom break, in the cafeteria. He may even do it to himself in the mirror, for all I know. I suppose I should be happy that Mark Peter is content to flash relatively benign hand signs, and that he hasn’t tried to pick anybody up and body slam them yet. Though I feel like that’s just around the corner.
I guess if I really want to capture his attention and get him to do his schoolwork, maybe I should treat school like a wrestling match. I’m going to start blaring my own personal theme song every time I enter the room. I’m thinking Pink Floyd’s, “Hey teacher! Leave them kids alone!” I’ll stomp around, beating my chest, yelling out math problems. Instead of grades, I think I’ll hand out title belts. My finishing move will be the Atomic Wedgie. And every once in a while, Mrs. Swanson might sneak up and hit me over the head with a steel chair. I’m sure the kids would love it. What do you think?
Later,
“Stone Cold” Jack Woodson
Date: Tuesday, November 4, 2003
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: The Apprentice
Hey bud, Wow! Why don’t you tell me how you REALLY feel? I always thought the ninth circle of hell was reserved for arsonists, thieves, and people who dress their dogs up in fuzzy little sweaters. Don’t go lumping all wrestling fans in there as well. I’m telling you, you should watch it some time just for the athletic skills these guys possess. Or better yet, to see the female wrestlers, and their, um, “skills.”
Speaking of athletes, my fantasy football team continues to find new and oddball ways of letting me down. This weekend, my tight end didn’t play because of — this was the listing on the injury report — “lacerated buttocks.” Just how exactly does one achieve lacerated buttocks?? Did somebody lose control of the cheese grater??
Anyway, on to the events of the day. For some reason, little kids are amazed when they find out that you actually have a first name. Maybe it’s because they’re used to calling adults Mister or Misses So-and-So, but when they discover a teacher’s first name, it’s this newfound source of wonder, like going to Disney World for the first time, or being in the presence of soup. Not that it takes any effort at all to find out our names. We all wear ID badges that have our picture and our full name on them. I wear mine hooked to my belt, so it’s about eye-level for most of my kids. Unlike my badge at HPU, I haven’t tampered with this one. So it really is a picture of me, and not the Flash, or Dilbert, or Ned Flanders.
A couple of weeks ago, out on the playground, Juan happened to notice my badge. He said, with that sense of wonder I mentioned, “Your name is Jack Woodson?” I answered, “Yes, and you can call me Mister Woodson.” Juan laughed and life went on.
Today we had a little bit of déjà vu. While standing in line for the restroom, a new student, Ja’Wane, noticed my badge. He asked the same question — “Your name is Jack Woodson?” This time, Juan, who was standing nearby, piped up and responded, “Yes, and you can call him MISTER Woodson!” Do I have these kids well trained, or what?
And while we’re on the topic, I discovered something disturbing during MY restroom break today. After school, I stopped in to the boys’ restroom in the sixth grade hall and stepped into the first stall. I often use this stall, from convenience, during my lunch break, and there is often a “present” inside. I’ll let your imagination run wild there, and I’ll just say that this present involves the act of NOT flushing.
Today, however, inside the toilet was about half a roll of wadded up, soggy toilet paper along with what I’d swear was a jump rope handle. I didn’t investigate any further to see if the whole rope was in there, instead choosing to take my business elsewhere.
My brother knows a guy at his workplace who cleans out porta-potties and chemical toilets. They’ve nicknamed him Blue Hand Luke. If it really was a jump rope, maybe the school will have to call him up to come out and clean up the mess. If the kids ask who he is, I’ll be sure they call him MISTER Hand.
And on that note, I will talk to you later,
Crapper John, M.D.
Date: Friday, November 7, 2003
To: Fred Bommerson
From: Jack Woodson
Subject: I pledge something or other
Hey bud, I agree that bathrooms can be hazardous wherever you go. I have would-be vandals, you have Larry. Does he still take pride in taking a magazine in there and sitting until he can’t feel his legs? OK, enough about this topic.
Yesterday and today were special days for a handful of kids in my homeroom. They got to do the morning announcements. Every morning at 8:00, the principal or one of the assistant principals comes on the public address speaker and lists the day’s events. Then two or three students step up to the mike and make a short statement about one of our “Pillars of Character Education.” The pillars are Trustworthiness, Responsibility, Respect, Fairness, Caring, and Citizenship. Can’t really make a good acronym out of that, I’ve tried. After the student announcements, everybody recites the Pledge of Allegiance and the Pledge to the Texas Flag, also known as the Mumbling to Whichever Wall I Happen to be Facing at the Time. Then we have a moment of silence before resuming the school day.
Our assigned pillar was Citizenship. Last week, we talked briefly about what citizenship means — the way you treat your community, basically — and I had the kids each write down what they would say if they made the announcements. On Monday of this week, I took up all the papers and selected the best four (of the ones I could actually make sense of). For some reason, everyone’s definition of good citizenship seems to str
ess picking up garbage. At least eight of the kids’ entries said, “I am a good citizenship when I pick up trash from the street.”
I got on my computer at home and typed out the four I had chosen and printed them so the kids would have something easily readable. Ariel and Xander went to the office yesterday, and they read their statements perfectly. I actually had to edit down Ariel’s essay; from a page and a half, I picked the best paragraph.
Today was a slightly different story. Lindsay and Tereelia were the honorees, and things didn’t go quite as smoothly as yesterday.
Mr. Locke, the Assistant Principal, read the daily messages, and then Lindsay was up first. Very energetically, she said, “Hi, I’m Lindsay, from Mrs. Swanson’s class, 3E! No wait, I mean 3E, Mr. Woodson’s class!” Then she went into a giggle fit for several seconds, punctuated by a loud, “WOOOOOOOOO!!!” Of course, the kids in the room with me thought this was the funniest thing they had ever heard.
After that, there was dead air for a few moments, until Mr. Locke prompted Lindsay to continue. “Oh yeah!” she cried, followed by more giggling. Finally she read her message and the performance was complete.
Tereelia at least remembered what class she was from and what to read, but as usual, her voice was so high-pitched that I was afraid we would have dogs from all over the city swarming the school.
When the two girls returned to the classroom, Lindsay walked slowly and regally across the room to her desk, like a newly crowned Miss America, basking in her admirers’ love. Tereelia, on the other hand, grimaced uncomfortably and awkwardly sat down at her desk, looking lost. In other words, they both acted exactly the way they always do each morning when they enter my room.
The girls’ efforts certainly did not go unnoticed. I got some nice compliments throughout the day. Several teachers told me my kids were “special.” Recognition like that really warms the heart.
