by Jo Noelle
Sophie
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Friday flies—math, reading, poems, social studies, lunch, read aloud, writing, phonics, PE, comprehension, spelling test, clean up, class meeting, dismiss. The only blip on the screen is talking to Mrs. Gregg after school to let her know Sean had a hard time in PE today. We were playing tag games and he wouldn’t follow the rules; like when you get tagged, you freeze and wait for your team to unfreeze you. He wouldn’t. Or even the rule that we don’t punch each other. He did, twice.
Mrs. Gregg listens quietly, then smiles at me like she is blowing me off. She takes Sean’s hand and walks away, saying, “Don’t worry dear. She’s not your mother.”
What? You said what to him? How about—it’s important to follow the rules. Or—when we follow rules we respect people. Or even—you won’t have friends if you punch people during tag. Or anything else! Un. Real.
September 8, 2007
Newbie Blog:
This is HARD, With a Perk
My volunteer mentor has been out this week, and I’ve missed her! Really, it’s best for her to stay home for a while. I’m proud I’ve been able to hold my class together and teach lessons, but it’s hard to find time to plan new lessons.
Two more things I’ve learned:
1. You’re on your own. You can plan with someone else. You can call the office for help or a sub, but when the children are there with you, you’re on.
2. Kids are funny, so go ahead and laugh a lot. Plan lessons to bring out the humor. I suggest creative movement to music.
On a personal note, I have a date with Hot Sub tonight. He’s gorgeous and tall, 6’2”. His athletic body is only part of the story behind his nickname. He has thick brown hair, a little messy and pushed into the middle. He has green eyes that don’t hurt his chances of gaining more admirers. Definitely yummy! Don’t wait up.
I’ve changed four times, and now I’m standing in front of the full-length mirror in Mina’s room, wearing some dark-wash skinny jeans with a cute concert tee from Sick Puppies. It’s actually Mina’s shirt, but I’ve been listening to a CD in case Liam asks me about the band.
Mina looks slowly at my clothes, perusing the details. “You look great. I think this is the one, but it looks better without you biting your lip.”
Hmm…I step back, turn left, turn right. Maybe I should change back into the first outfit. I turn, grabbing the tank and cardigan from the bed behind me.
“Stop. You look great, and you are not changing again.”
I freeze, still clutching the clothes, and turn to face her. “I’m not sure it’s sending the right first-date message.”
“You’re delusional. You look relaxed and carefree in a cute, sassy way. Definitely the right message.” The doorbell rings, and I drop the clothes to dash into Mina’s bathroom to finish my makeup.
“Ooh, Hot Sub is here. Do not change missy. I’ll answer the door. Pee before you leave— go-karts are a shaky ride.” She smiles and turns to get the door.
I quickly smear on some blush and mascara and give myself a once-over in the mirror. Popping another mint into my mouth. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Smile. As I round the corner into the front room, I hear Liam laughing as Mina is describing something to him. I pause for a second, looking at both curiously.
“Mina was just telling me the other side of the story about your first day at Rio Grande. Quite a day, huh?”
“Well, I guess so.” I try to sound light and carefree, like my shirt implies, as Liam walks over to the door.
“Nice to meet you, Mina, and thanks for the insight.”
Before I turn to leave, I give Mina a quizzical glare to which she just shrugs.
“Have a good time,” she calls as she shuts the door behind us.
Liam walks me to the passenger side of his Ridgeline and opens my door—his stock is going up. You know how on some dates, especially first dates, if they don’t even open the door when they are trying to impress you, well, you can bet it’s all downhill from there. So, good start.
We chat easily on the way. It takes me a while to notice the radio isn’t even on—another good sign. I like the idea of go-karts for a first date—we can learn to do something fun together, adding to the bonding.
Inside the go-kart track, I find out Liam has a locker with a custom helmet in it—I’ve been set up. He grabs my hand (all is forgiven) and we get me a helmet.
During a training video explaining the safety features of the cart, Liam begins tickling the back of my hand. I can’t concentrate at all. The movie tells how to cut the engine, stop a skid, and something I didn’t catch. Liam leans close and practically whispers in my ear, telling me about his family; father, mother, older sister, younger brother and grandparents in England, but I can’t tell you how to run the cart. I think it’s all part of Liam’s plan to win.
The light turns green, and we start. I have one foot on the gas and the other on the brake. Coming up to the first turn, I keep the gas down. The back tires skid a bit, but I think I can take the turns faster.
I round another corner and notice Liam following my cart very closely. In fact, I think he bumps my car each time the teenager on duty looks away. The training video clearly said no bumping. It would be “a cause for ejection from the track.” He bumps my car again. Fine—I slow down. Liam speeds up to go around me and I gas it, turning my wheel sharply to the left, smacking his cart with mine. I’m still in front, but he’s laughing and gives his cart more gas. I manage to stay in front, but he looks determined to get past me.
Around the next corner, he makes a move to bump my car out of the way. As my back wheels slide, he rams me again, but a bit too hard. His front bumper catches on my back right bumper, causing his cart to slide with mine. The two carts behind us don’t react fast enough. One of them T-bones Liam’s cart, breaking his bumper away from mine, and he hits the wall. The other cart smacks into the back of me, slinging my cart forward into the wall too.
An air horn blasts, and two guys come out to rearrange us back on the track. They shoot an angry look at the driver of the cart that T-boned Liam and the one that crashed into me and yell, “Watch what you’re doing. Next time you’re out of here.” Liam gives me a wink and a smile, and we start up again.
No way is Liam getting in front of me. We only have two more laps for our race. I gas it, thinking all or nothing. When he tries to pass, I cut him off. He can’t do anything sneaky—the teenagers are keeping a close eye on us now. Checkered flag! I don’t win, but I beat Liam—feels like winning.
“Thanks for the driving lesson,” he teases while we walk to my front door, his right hand guiding me up the walk.
“Anytime.” And I really mean anytime, all the time, whenever, I think as we step on my porch.
His hand tightens on my back and I turn to face him. His left hand brushes my hair from my face and over my shoulder, then kisses my jaw below my right ear. “See you Monday,” he whispers, his lips brushing along my cheek. Oh, more of that would be nice. Then he leaves.
I sit down to email Beth. What do I say? He’s. . .I really have no words for this. Everything about him draws me in. The sensation of his lips brushing my cheek is still there. I turn off my computer and go to bed.
Tap, tap, taptaptap. Ignore it. Squeeze eyes. Cover ear with pillow. Tap. Tap. Tap. Ignore it. Tap, tap, taptaptap. The sky is barely gray between the louvers in my window as my eyes twitch with each tap, the sound reverberating against my brain. If I keep them closed and if the tapping stops, I can get maybe another half hour of sleep before my clock screams at me.
My alarm goes off at five thirty instead of six fifteen, so I can get to work early to plan out how to prepare for the next few weeks. This is getting to be my normal wakeup time anyway, since my roommate gets up at this time every morning and practices clogging for an hour before showering. Some mornings I try to sleep through it, but mostly I don’t. I toss and turn, smash a pillow over my head and breathe warm air—grrr—
and then toss and turn again. Mina swears I’m exaggerating, saying she hasn’t heard anything—from the other side of the house, I might add.
I’ve been thinking about teaching all weekend. Not really—just yesterday, and only when I wasn’t thinking about Liam. Okay, not much at all. I thought about Liam a lot. But I can do this teacher thing if I plan it out and follow the plan. It will happen. Easy as pie. Oh gads, I’ve never made pie.
At work, I pull out a half-page sticky note and write To-Do List across the top. If I break up the daily lessons into smaller parts and work on each one, I’ll get the planning finished. Six days left in this week, so on Monday, I can plan the math lessons I’ll need for Sept. 19-25. I assign different lessons for each day. When I look over my list, I’m satisfied, pressing it onto the closet door behind my desk.
After work on Monday, I stay in my classroom and pull out my plan book. Okay. Math. I open the cupboard behind my desk looking for the teacher’s handbook. Beth says it has everything I need. It’s not right on top, so I begin looking behind and under the items in the cupboard. Finally, the only way to continue is to pull everything out. I realize that if it isn’t in this cupboard, there are five more along the wall and four more below the counter to search.
Maybe Mrs. Hays has one she could loan me, or at least show me, so I know what I’m looking for. Checking the clock, I notice there’s only a minute before the end of contract time. If I’m going to catch her, I have to go now. As I turn into the hallway, she’s coming out of her room.
“Mrs. Hays, I’m glad I caught you. I’m looking for the teacher’s edition for our math program. I can’t find one for my room and wondered if I could borrow yours.” She’s already shaking her head. Then she kicks the doorstop into her room and lets the door shut.
“Sorry, no.” Without another word she pivots toward the exit and clops away.
I watch for a second, wondering if she meant no, she doesn’t have one, or no, she won’t loan it to me. Either way, looks like I have to find mine.
One by one, I empty each cupboard. Who buys four pencil sharpeners and just shoves them in a cupboard? The number of resources I’ve uncovered is amazing and has buried the entire counter, my small table, and twelve desks on this half of the room.
I look at the heaps and piles. If I move them into groups of like subjects or objects, I would be able to find them when I need them for planning. Brilliant. Several hours later, the trash pile is heaping, and organized piles are arranged neatly around the classroom.
Being organized feels good, almost sacred, like I’ve hallowed the ground of my cupboards and drawers. It’s…what time? I take a second look at the clock. Seven thirty?
I haven’t even planned one lesson or found the math book I need. Okay, I didn’t get the math planned out, but I’m sure everything will be much easier now that I can find everything. It’s been a real time-saver. Beneficial, really. I even have one completely empty cupboard to grow into.
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Subject: Math Manual
September 10, 20077:31 PM
Hi Beth,
I hate to bug you but I’m looking for the math manual you said you used for planning lessons. What does it look like? Do you remember the color? Or the title?
Your class is doing well. They miss you, but the sub is really good with them, and she’s following the plans you’ve sent her.
How are you feeling?
Love ya,
Sophie
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Tuesday after school, Mr. Chavez drops by my classroom. “Mrs. Gregg came to see me today and asked for her son to be moved to another class. She really didn’t have a reason why. I wondered if you knew.”
“Sean had a problem on Friday, not following rules and hitting other children. I spoke with her about it after school. I think it made her mad. She told Sean to ignore me because I wasn’t his mother. That’s probably it.”
“I wondered. When she wouldn’t say why, I thought it must be something she wasn’t proud of. I let her know I wouldn’t be moving him, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. You might have to try extra hard with Sean for a while.”
He leaves, and I’m renewed to start planning. I place my plan book in the center of the desk, open to the week of Sept. 19. Tonight, I need to have math and phonics lessons finished through the twenty-fifth. That’s a lot, but the phonics lessons are short. I can do both. I start with phonics. It’s taking forever—not just deciding what to put on the pages but when my computer sends the pages to the printing queue, it’s so slow, I can almost create a new page in the time it takes to print one. There must be a problem with this computer. I go to accessories, system tools, and then choose defrag. Click yes. This is going to take a few hours. I have the plans for the lessons completed, and I can add the practice pages tomorrow when the computer is running better.
Mina has a great idea to invite Stev and Liam to come over on Friday for dinner and games. Maybe Karlie would like to join the party.
We sit at the dining table to plan the date. “Are we cooking or ordering out?” I ask.
“Cooking, I think. How about fried chicken?” Mina suggests.
“Let’s cook when they get here. You know, cook together,” I say.
“Fun,” Karlie agrees, “We could make pizzas. That cooks quickly.”
“Salads. Garlic bread. And a great dessert,” Mina adds.
“Sundae bar! With brownies.” I pull out a notebook. “What’s on the shopping list?” We plan it out and give assignments to each of us.
On Wednesday, my computer is in peak condition again, and I open email before school.
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RE: math manual
September 12, 2007 6:37 AM
hi sophie,
i’m feeling fine but no one believes me, so i still can’t come back. ☹ the manual
you are looking for is orange with purple splashes across the front. i don’t remember the exact title but it says “teacher’s edition” at the bottom.
:) beth
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I finish reading Beth’s note and realize the math book on the corner of my desk is the lesson book I’ve been looking for.
At lunch, I wander the playground and see Liam in the fields, reffing a soccer game. Jade sits beside the wall of the school with her knees up and her head down, alone.
“Hi, Jade. Can I sit with you?” Her large, bright eyes smile as much as her mouth does. My heart melts, and I sit on the ground beside her. “You were sick this week, huh? How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
“What do you like to do at recess?”
“Swings.”
“Do you want to go to the swings today? I’ll push you.”
Without saying a word, she jumps up and runs to an open swing. It’s easy to feel her simple joy. A little time and attention is all it takes to change her mood. She has the swing moving before I get there and begin to push. The lunch for older students is over now, and their soccer game is breaking up. Liam jogs over and stands beside me.
“Been in any pileups lately?” he asks.
“Just one on Saturday with this road rager I haven’t seen since.” His smile is infectious, sending bubbles streaming through my veins. “By the way, would you like to come to dinner on Friday and stay for some games? My roommates’ dates will be there, too.”
“Yeah, I’ll come, but fair warning, I’m good at most games—you’ll have to bring it.”
“Oh, I plan to keep you on my team.” Because you’re my date. That sounds way too possessive to say out loud, but I like the way it feels to think it. “Come over at seven?” I wish it were six.
“Seven.” He jogs back to a group of younger students starting to kick a ball around.
The swing next to Jade opens up as an older girl goes to class. Another girl in my class, Anna, jumps in the swing and asks me to push her too. I stay at th
e swings for the rest of the lunch break, pushing each girl in turn.
I probably should have gone right back in after talking to Liam to plan more lessons, but there’s something very relaxing about the rhythm of the swings. The sky is crystal blue today, with a couple of flat clouds far off to the east. When was the last time I stood under the mid-day sky? The bright sunshine warms my hair and black shirt, and a cool breeze trickles by now and again. Walking back to my classroom with my students when lunch is over, I think I needed this as much as I need more lessons.
After school, I head over to the custodian’s room. The students have been complaining that there aren’t enough balls to play with at recess. I checked out our recess basket, and sure enough, it’s half empty.
Walking down the hall, I wonder why I think it is half empty. I’m not usually a half-empty type of person. Am I? Mr. Sam shows me the lost and found. There are a few balls that look familiar—no name on them—must be ours. And there’s one, not familiar, no name, we’ll use it too. I leave with six balls. I can carry four, but I have to kick two in front of me as I go. Not a feat I would have ever imagined I’d be successful at—mostly. A few get away, but I chase them down and start again. Before stashing them in our basket, I write our room number on each of them.
Back at my desk, my blank plan book stares up at me. Okay, buckle down. Three hours later, I’ve finished the practice pages from yesterday and two math lessons.
Thursday afternoon, my students hustle out of my room when the bell rings. Good thing—I’ve got work to do. Sitting at my desk, looking at the To-Do List posted on the closet door, I read it over, pen in hand, excited to check off everything I’ve accomplished. Monday, math. Not done—I can’t check that off. Tuesday, phonics—check. Wednesday, art—no, science—no, music—no, social studies—no. How depressing. I’ve stayed late every day this week and have only one checkmark to show for it? Maybe I should re-think this checklist thing—I don’t think it works. Then I realize I’m focusing on the list “half empty”.
