Tag Archives: teachers live at school

>Dangerous Days, indeed.

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>Daniel has no last name. He has no family, either; he creates his own family and friends with his highly developed magical imagination. He has amazing powers, outrageous intelligence, and a mission to avenge his parents’ violent deaths.

It’s too bad all of this doesn’t lead to a better story.

Daniel X is disappointing. James Patterson is a well-known author for adults, a creator of best-selling novels, a regular on Top Ten Lists. What happened here? The dramatic opening sets up the motivation and Daniel’s uniqueness, but after that – well, not much. The pacing lacks flow, connections are choppy, the villian was predictable, and frankly, I found it dull.

That’s ironic because Patterson’s marketing (and oh, he is all about marketing) is based on boys supposedly having very little interest in reading because they find books boring and “can’t get into the stories.”

Patterson needs to meet some of the boys I’ve met while teaching fourth through sixth grade. He needs to meet the boy who checked out Eragon from the library – for me! “Mrs. Teacher, you need to read this now because the sequel is coming out soon and it’s awesome.” How about the boy who kept hiding books in his lap so he could keep reading through math class? No, his subterfuge didn’t work. He still had to learn long division, but I let him read as soon as his homework was done. Then there was the boy who was so wrapped up in Robinson Crusoe that he forgot to go to science class. Tell me he wasn’t into the story, and I’ll pop a quiz on you so fast your head will spin. Would you like to hear about the boys who eagerly read the later books in Laura Ingalls Wilder’s collection? They wanted to find out more about Almanzo from Farmer Boy and learn whether his older brother Royal moved west with him.

Patterson suggests something teachers and librarians already know: give them books they’ll love.

I suggest: Give them Gary Paulsen. Christopher Paul Curtis. Jerry Spinelli. Betsy Byars. Cornelia Funke. Gordon Korman. Robert Louis Stevenson. C. S. Lewis. Matt Christopher’s sports collections, including fiction and biographies. And continue to recommend J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter books. Boys and girls alike lose themselves in the complex and fascinating world of the boy wizard.

The Dangerous Days of Daniel X may attract a few readers who like slimey aliens and big guns and a weak, unstructured story. I don’t plan to recommend it.


I received a free copy of this book in order to review it for MotherTalk. I plan to donate it to the middle school library. Despite my dislike for the story, I do not believe in censorship. Some kids will like it; it’ll be on the shelf for them.

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>Penny for your thoughts?

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>In today’s inflation, I’d need to offer more than one cent. Luckily, the Penny who turned up on my doorstep wasn’t made of copper; she was made of intelligence, dedication, and guts. Penny Bernard Schaber, candidate for state assembly in my district, stopped by to talk.
Penny knows that health care is a huge issue for all people. She understands that our school funding formulas are deeply flawed. She values the natural environment. She recognizes that the recession touches all of us, even in our relatively stable Happy Valley. Penny knows that money are tight all over, and it’ll take tough decisions to make a state budget work.
I was pleased that Penny listened as much as she talked. When I told her about my classroom’s windows, permanently stuck either open or closed because I can’t lift or lower them, she knew I wasn’t making it up. She also knew that my school isn’t asking for extravagances; just basic maintenance that current funding doesn’t cover.
Regular readers know my saying: All politics are local.
If you’ve read any of my posts on politics, you’ll know I also believe that involvement is crucial. Folks, make an informed vote. Read. Think. Better yet, take some time and help out the candidate who makes the most sense to you.
For my district, State Assembly District 57, it’s Penny Bernard Schaber.

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>World Language? Bilingual is where it’s at.

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>Obama ignited a few fires when he recommended teaching American students a second language. I have one question for the doubters.

What’s the problem?!!?

Many Americans grow up with the Ugly American Entitlement attitude. Contrary to some popular belief, we’re not always popular. The “Speak English and do it now!” attitude contributes to this problem.
I’ve taught many children who spoke another language before they spoke English. Some spoke Hmong, some Arabic, Spanish, Portuguese, and more. In addition to my native Midwestern dialect of American English, I speak a fair amount of Spanish.
The best advantage to an elementary teacher like me isn’t the Spanish vocabulary, although that’s extremely helpful. The real advantage comes from experiences in learning and respecting cultures that differ from my own.
I don’t speak Hmong, but I’ve learned a great deal about the Hmong people, their history, and their culture. I’ve also met several families who came from Brazil to live here in the U.S. My Spanish is no match for their Brazilian Portuguese, but rather reminds me how challenging it is to read and learn in a new language. I learned to enjoy the student who grew up speaking English, encouraged by his bilingual mother (Arabic and English). Then there was the family from Somalia by way of Egypt; the children were very well educated in their native Arabic. Learning English set them back, frustrating the intelligent and capable children for a while.
Regular readers of Compost Happens know that I am hearing impaired. I chose not to learn ASL, American sign language, because I live and work in a hearing world. Instead, I wear two powerful hearing aids and I’m learning to read lips. Like another language, these are tools that help me communicate.
A teaching colleague told me about her husband’s job which includes frequent travel to China. No one, not one employee at the manufacturer, speaks Chinese. He began learning the language as a professional courtesy. If his local school district started a language program in Chinese, the career possibilities for their graduates would increase exponentially. Not only would they be well equipped to work for the local enginemaker, but they’d have an understanding of another culture that is very different from their own.
And that, my friends, is priceless.

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>role reversal

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>I came home from the July Fourth Fireworks to find La Petite sitting on the couch holding a clipboard: my clipboard, with my latest and greatest rough draft of a grad school project. She had pen in hand and was proofreading, revising, and making suggestions.
I used to do this for her. The last time I proofed one of hers was a full three years ago, when she was a freshman in college. Now she helps her friends when they need advice, and now, yes, now, she’s helping her mother.
The comments all sound like a 21-yr-old. Here’s a sampling:

This is a long and confusing sentence.
What the cr** is this supposed to mean?
Make this verb active, not passive.
Check APA style.
Is this really related to (the topic)?
RUN ON! OMG!

Then there were the comments she made that built on my own comments and revisiions.
My notes: Run-on
Hers: Yup. You dangled a participle, too.
My notes: best word?
Hers: Yes.

The next morning she referred to my run-on sentences as “Awesome” as in “Mom, that run-on sentence that was the whole paragraph by itself? That was awesome.”
Maybe she meant awe-inspiring. After all, I did teach her writing class in 6th grade. She got some of her skills from me, somehow.
Later, though, she had to ask me how many cups were in a quart. Then she had to ask if we had any three-quart containers for the planting kit she wanted to assemble. Snicker. Mom still knows best. Wait…I was her math teacher in 6th grade, too….

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>Overheard

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>A teacher died and went (of course) to Heaven. At the gate she was asked, “How can you be of service here?” She replied, “Well, I’m a teacher, so I’d be happy to teach here, too.” The new classroom appeared: 40 students, no materials, no books, no tech support, no clerical assistance. She reacted strongly. “This looks impossible! How can you expect me to do my best work in a situation that’s set up for failure?”

Bang. Switch venues.

Now in the opposite locale, a handsome devil asked her the same question. “How can you be of service here?” She replied with a sigh, “I’ll teach.” Her new classroom appeared, this time with a much different set-up. 15 students. Books, papers, pencils, pens, computers with current software, clerical time, useful professional development, and more. “What? How? I don’t understand,” she stammered.

The devil responded, “Well really, Mrs. Teacher, think about it. Whenever you asked your elected officials for this kind of classroom, where did they tell you to go?”

As the 2007-2008 school year ends, please consider how to make the future of education even better. Please vote for candidates who understand and support quality education for all students.

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>Name or identity crisis?

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>You might be a substitute teacher if people greet you in the morning by asking, “Who are you today?”

You might be an elementary student if you spend your last days of school cleaning. The cleaning list is fairly long, and I like to start early. My students returned their library books two weeks ago. They turned in their textbooks on Monday. They cleaned the excess papers from their desks almost daily. I sent home notebooks and folders each day as we finished the last science class. The last social studies class. The last math class. And so on, and so on, etc., etc.

Elementary students still get a charge out of bringing home their official laminated name tags. There’s one on the locker, there’s another on the desk, and there might be another on the desk they use in Mr. Science Guy’s room when we switch classes. Taking these home is a simple pleasure. Sometimes, they do something else with the name tags. Like, well, share them.

After I took this picture, Juan distributed the tags around the class. No one went home with his/her own name tag, but everyone went home wearing someone!

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>Top o’ the mornin’ to ya!

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>Ah, mornings. My collegiate-type daughter doesn’t like to do anything that has an A.M. after the numbers. My teen is more of a morning person, but he’s still, well, a teen. He’ll do mornings, but grudgingly.

On a school day, Amigo’s alarm goes off at 6:00. He drags his mind out of sleep mode, drags himself to the dresser for clothes, and slinks downstairs to have breakfast. By this time I’ve already been out of bed with some semblance of coherence since 5:30, showered, dressed, and more while waiting for him. We sleepwalk through breakfast, brushing teeth, morning medicines, and then watch a little morning news and weather before going outside to wait for the bus.

It all runs fairly smoothly unless he oversleeps. Let’s not even suggest the possibility.

Lately we’ve had an additional body in the house. La Petite is home from school and working, which means we have three drivers and only two vehicles. Most mornings now Husband wakes up an hour earlier than his usual, drives me to school, and then takes care of himself and gets to work. La Petite takes her break to run me home in time to meet Amigo’s school bus.

One morning I requested that Husband drive me through Jo to Go, my favorite school day caffeine source, and the barrista simply looked into the car at me and asked, “The usual?” Husband shot me a half-smirk, half eye-roll, and shook his head. Heck, my morning usual is a 16 oz. hazelnut with no cream or sugar. Nothing fancy or expensive, really! It’s a locally owned place, too, so I’m supporting the local economy. The service is fast enough that I waste a minimum of gas, and….well, I can rationalize anything if I try hard enough. Even on a wild and woolly workday morning.

Fortunately, this routine only lasts until school is out and that flexibility that is a teacher’s summer begins. Then I become the chauffeur, taking La Petite to work and Amigo to appointments. And on most summer days, I make my own coffee.

This post is based on a topic recommended by Parent Bloggers Network and Kraft Bagel-fuls. Please feed your children breakfast before school; trust me, they learn better and test better if they’re not hungry.

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>School’s out for summer — almost

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>The tradition of writing on the board continues. Ever since the day I let my students draw flowers on the chalkboard around the date, they’ve raced to decorate the board every morning. The style morphed from flowers to animals, and some days they get so excited that we end up having three suns. New planet with a tri-solar system, perhaps? There’s a lot of creativity in their fourth grade minds, so I wouldn’t discount it. But more than likely, three kids wanted to draw the sun and none would give in to the others.

I enjoy watching their creativity. This one went up on a muggy, drizzly day. The blurry writing in the middle states, “Rain, rain, go away!” Earlier in the day it said, “Rian, rian, go away!” until someone more astute took eraser in hand and played editor.

I can only wonder what would happen if I let them use (gasp) colored chalk. Maybe…. oh, this wasn’t fourth grade artists. This was the work of La Petite, age 21, art minor.

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>grad school, again?

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>We arrived on our own, our graduate program’s own fab five, each in our own vehicles, usually the family minivan. The five of us, friends and coworkers, were taking yet another graduate class together on a large, sprawling, confusing campus. When the class day was over, four of us couldn’t find our vans in the parking garage, so we all piled into one. As we worked our way out of the maze of parking ramps, constantly on the lookout for any of our missing vans, we ran into construction. One of us got out of the van and ran ahead to see if we could make it out through the wreckage. She came back and said yes, we could get through, so we inched our way through the mess.

At that point, I woke up.

When I told Husband about this, he said it was obvious; I was just trying to survive the last week of school and get out in one piece!

I emailed this to the friends involved for their take on it. One liked Husband’s interpretation but added that maybe it was about the fact that we all stick together through thick and thin, one or all of us are there when we need it, and we all look out for each other no matter what! Another reminded me that even though we may arrive at our destinations separately, we are always together in our hearts – and vans! It wasn’t snowing in the dream like it was the last time we got together, but we had difficulty getting home. And finally, we all agreed that it meant we were way overdue for a girls’ night out.

Any other thoughts, folks? Have I missed any symbolism?

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