Guess What

If you've correctly deciphered the newly coined third grade words and phrases, you've figured out that Jacob's "leg knuckles" are really his knees, a "fa-LEM-entine" is a delicious fruit, the bathroom was not so much "out of water" as it was "out of order," and those little "m" people you get when you're sick?  Yep.  Mucus.

Lately I've been doing a lot of guessing to figure out what kids are talking about--and not just trying to take a stab at working out their word substitutions.  Brianna's favorite style of delivery of any type of news, these days, has been the "Guess What" approach.  "Guess What" + Expectant Look never really precedes news of some normal occurrence.  But then, since when are elementary school days filled with normal occurrences?

A few weeks ago, Brianna wanted to see if I could figure out what she ate for breakfast.  Well, more so she wanted to orchestrate a dramatic pause and then, with great flourish, tell me bizarre thing she ate for breakfast.

icanflourish.com

"Ms. Sarah--guess what I ate for breakfast!"

"Hmmm...oatmeal?  Cereal?  Eggs?"

"Nope!"  [Dramatic pause.]  "My NAILS in a bowl of cereal!"  And thus I was GuessWhatted into learning of some sort of strange kitchen nail clipping mishap.


Yesterday, Brianna pulled out a "Guess What" in a place with a particularly high potential for a disastrous answer.  The bathroom.

"Ms. Sarah--guess what is in the toilet in the second stall in the girls' bathroom!"

I closed my eyes for a minute, hoping for something completely normal, but knowing we were not headed in that direction.

This time, though, I had no guesses, as my preferred answer to that question would have been, "Nothing."

Despite my lack of guessing, Brianna was still able to achieve a sufficiently dramatic pause.

"CHICKEN!'

Really--if you're going to inform someone of the fact that there is, somehow, an entree in the toilet, Guess What is a pretty effective method of presentation.

Beware of the Guess What.  You never know when the answer will be chicken.

Leg Knuckles

google.com/products

  Everyone knows Jenga, right?  Or the term 'bachelorette party?'  I mean, even if you don't regularly play the block stacking game or if you've never been to a bachelorette party, they're just things everyone knows about.  Well, as it turns out, not Australians.  This weekend I was hanging out with an Australian woman and her entertaining little phrases.  Down under, if you're going out to celebrate a single friend's last night before getting married, you're going to a "hen party!"  Ha!  And apparently Jenga has not made it to the land of kangaroos.

  It occurred to me that speaking with someone from another country is not really all that much different from interacting with third graders.  They, too, have their own charmingly peculiar phrases and misunderstood pop culture references.

  The other day I was chatting with Michael and some other kids during lunch.  The subject turned to TV, and Michael remembered something hilarious he had seen recently on that one show.....you know....with videos?  "I think it's called, 'Videos That are Funny at Home.' "

Well, sort of.  They're not just funny videos, they're the funniest home videos, and those softball-in-groin antics could only be celebrated by and belong to and us here in America.  But yes, I get the gist of what you're saying.  Please continue to describe this exceedingly entertaining tennis ball mishap.

allshowsonline.com

  The next week, Jacob was helping out after school, though with less helping and more sliding across the room.  After one particularly clunky slide on his knees, Jacob stood up and exclaimed, "I cracked my leg knuckles!"

  When talking to an eight-year-old, you have to always be ready to translate their lingo into actual words or phrases.  You're hoping to get an rPod for your birthday?  Ah.  I see. 

  Now you try your hand at deciphering!  What were these children talking about?

• At snack: "Mmmmmm.   I want some more fa-LEM-entines!"

• In the bathroom: "Don't use that stall.  It's out of water."

• During writing: "It's a runaway sentence!"

• Settling a game dispute: "Rock, paper, scissors, SHOES!"

• On morning work assignment asking students to write a contraction: "One half."

• After being out sick: "I had something that starts with 'm.'  Those little people."

Happy to Help.....

Image: debidrecksler.blogspot.com

After school programs are like gold mines for cleaning/stacking/sharpening helper elves.  You know what I'm talking about.  Dismissal hits and you release all of the children into the wild.  Then, you selectively recruit one or two particularly competent ones from the aftercare room for some afterschool jobs around the classroom.

They stack the chairs!

They sharpen the pencils!

They help pass out papers!

They might even offer a little unsolicited advice as they help clean for Back to School Night.  Abria, on loan from aftercare the afternoon before the evening's presentation, suggested that we put out a few of the beanbag chairs for the parents.  "Can't we just tell them to relax or something?"

And then....

Ahem.  AHEM!

That is the sound of a child with her hand outstretched, waiting for a little payment.  I'd like to think their donation of time is a labor of love.  Your payment?  A lovely, clean classroom!  How delightful!  Isn't it fun to put back the randomly scattered markers into their boxes?  What a treat!  Sharp pencils!  We can all appreciate that, eh?

Some children, though, ain't buyin' it.  Enough of this, "Helping is fun" nonsense.  Their time comes at a price.

During the Back to School Night preparations, Abria started dropping some "subtle" hints about her preferred form of compensation. 

"That's not fair that you get to chew gum and we don't!" she exclaimed.

"Mm hmm.  Now let's move these tables" I replied.

"You sure do smell minty fresh!' said Abria after she and Carson had helped rearrange the tables.

  For their 45 minutes of work, I thought that a piece of gum each was a very reasonable price.

  Today after school, there was some stacking, sharpening, and cleaning to be done, so I hit up my usual labor pool.  Abria and Ellie were happy to come help out.  When the jobs were done, the girls gathered up their bookbags to go.  "Bye!" Abria cheerfully called over her shoulder.  "We're happy to help!....even thought we didn't get no treats."

  Despite her hinting, today's payment was a lovely, clean classroom.  We can all appreciate that!

A New Year, a New Fake Pair of Specs

Poof!  Glasses!

That was my first thought as Cassidy walked in the room this morning.  She stared up at me through the new eyewear and beamed, daring me to NOT notice this new development happening on her face.

"I got glasses!" she exclaimed.  "Can I have an emergency share about them?"

Now, in addition to the fact that I probably need them soon myself, here is what I know about glasses:

1. The process of going from no glasses to glasses involves many steps, each of which I presume takes dozens of weeks.

2.  Children who are in any stage of the vision enhancement pipeline feel the need to update me regularly about their progress.  "Went to the eye doctor yesterday--I'm getting glasses!"  "I picked out my glasses yesterday--they're purple!"  "LOOK, I GOT MY GLASSES and have to keep them in this case and use this cleaning cloth to clean them!"

So "Poof!  Glasses!" struck me as a bit unlikely.

"You went to the eye doctor?" I asked Cassidy.
"And the doctor prescribed glasses and these have a prescription that helps you see?"
"Are they to help you see or just clear glass for fashion?"

"Yes.  Yes.  They're to help me see" she answered.

"And just once more to confirm--they are not fake?"

"Nope!"

And so it was that Cassidy spent the entire morning in rather adult-sized glasses, taking them off and putting them on randomly throughout the day.  During math, I went over and asked her what the doctor had said about when to wear them.

"Oh, just when I'm walking.  I fell during winter break while I was walking so I need to wear them when I'm walking."

"Hmmm"  I replied.

Which brings me to a few more things I know about eyewear protocol:

3. Glasses frames should be roughly in proportion to the size of your head.

4. There are several activities that might require the wearing of glasses:

• Reading
• Doing needlepoint embroidery
• Driving at night
• Deciphering far away street signs to prove how superior your vision is to your wife's

   None of these activities, however, include walking.

Image: freefoto.com

But, on the off chance that these were actual, legitimate glasses, I let her keep wearing them and emailed Cassidy's mom with a few questions.  Sure enough, mom called later that afternoon to report that, in fact, Cassidy had not been to the eye doctor and had not been prescribed these large glasses to help her walk more clearly.

Cassidy was, I am pleased to report, able to walk quite well and with no vision support needed over to her cubby to put away what turned out to be her uncle's glasses.

I Just Don't Do Those Things

There are two approaches to New Year's resolutions.  One approach is to optimistically resolve to change something about your life, your commitment to hair brushing, or your homework habits.  This is what all of my students do when, well, when I force them to after winter break.

The kids think very hard about the things their dads, teachers, or dentists have been nagging them about throughout the past year and decide, "Hey--maybe I could give this whole homework thing a try."  The students' resolutions often sound an awful lot like reminders I frequently give or like the wording of our classroom rules.....


I will keep doing a good job and pay attention to the person talking.

Image: freephotoshop.org

This year I will not talk much so I can do my work.

My New Year's resolution is to work harder on math and to pay attention in class.


This year I will do all of my homework.



Yes!  Yes!  I exclaim.  This is what I've been talking about!  Homework!  Paying attention!  Less talking!  It's going to be a great year.

The kids' non-school resolutions are likely echoes of similar reminders at home.  Yes!  Yes!  Their parents perhaps exclaim.  This is what we've been talking about!  Cleaning the bathroom!  Helping with the dishes!  TV off!

My New Year's resolution is to brush my hair more.

This year I will do my bathroom chores.


I will help my grandmother do the dishes.


This year I will turn my T.V. off so I can work on my homework.


I will try to take a bath every other night.

This year I will not have more cavities than eight (what I have).


The other approach, though, is to recognize and embrace the fact that you're just not a "daily flossing" or a "following directions" kind of person.  Third grade Nina captured this pretty well one year when she asked what she needed to do to earn some free reading time.  Curling up and reading in the classroom library was Nina's favorite thing to do and we were using this reward as a way to help her improve her behavior in class.  We explained that she had to meet her goals--things she had been working on getting better at all year.  The key to free reading in the library would come in the form of: following directions, asking permission, putting in a good effort, and being kind to others.  Nina considered the list of goals for a split second and then replied, "I just don't do those things."

Basically, the philosophy is, "I know I won't do that, so why pretend?"  I, myself, could make a resolution to open the mail at home (even the boring mail!) in a timely fashion and to not let it completely cover the kitchen table.  However, I think I'm just not a mail-opening kind of person and I'm OK with that.  2011 will just be another year of kitchen table piles.  Eh.  Maybe 2012 will be my year.

Then I Bowed

Image: www.skylinemusic.com

This week I celebrate my birthday!  I'm one year farther away from remembering what it's like to think like a kid, but fortunately my students give me plenty of chances to try to get back inside that mental state.  From what I can tell, the inside of kids' minds is a psychedelic funhouse of reality meshing with fantasy, of imagination and misconceptions and movies all swirling together.

I was reading kids' writing stories a few weeks ago and happened upon one by Crystal that bent my mind and made me feel like I had stepped back into that childhood universe of thought.  Or like I was on a bad LSD trip.

Once upond a time my brother and I were born boys.  We were Identical twins but we grew up and then my brother became the meanist person in my country.  He slapped me and almost ripped my arm off but I was lucky.  On monday he punched me when I was asleep.  Then I bowed and Became the meanest evilist person in the world.  My brother was scared and then I Became myself but he tricked me with the puppy dog face.  So then my brother became the meanest evilist person in the country until I was 57 years old.  He stopped and died I was sad But I didn't know why because He almost Ripped my arm off.  So I promised I will die peacefully, Good By.


What do you think is gone To happen next do you think it should Be a or b or c or d


1. He will die peacefully.
2. He will get married
3. He will Be a Billioner
4. He will be a somprem ruler

Even from the first sentence, there are many amazing fantasy/horror/avant-garde movie plots contained within Crystal's Choose Your Own Adventure-esque story.  I love the dramatic bow that signals the transfer of evilness and that Crystal and her older brother are magically reborn as identical boy twins.  We have a little work to do on the whole "no violence in stories" policy, but woah.  Thinking like an eight year old is something else. 

Feel free to vote for your favorite of Crystal's four ending options!

Post Secret

The morning work assignment one day last week was to write one thing you think nobody knows about you on an index card.  The cards would be used for one of my favorite morning meeting games, for which I know no name other than, "Write One Thing You Think Nobody Knows."  It's particularly hard to think of something to write when you've been with the same looping class for a year and a half--we know a lot about each other.  But apparently not everything!

As the kids headed over to the rug for morning meeting, I collected all of their anonymous facts.  Not realizing these facts would be used for anything other than a form of private catharsis or confidential therapy, Daniel came up to me and whispered, "I wrote something I don't want anybody to know."  "Throw it away and write a new one," I told him, now very curious what he had written.

With all of the index cards, including Daniel's "take two," collected in a neat little stack, we began playing.  I read off each of the cards one at a time and the kids had to guess whose secret it was being revealed.  There were the run-of-the-mill disclosures about favorite Wii games or favorite foods but some of the other cards sounded like the kind of personal confessions one might find at Post Secret.  I hoped for no making fun but the kids handled the sensitive information well.
  
Nobody knows that I have baby dolls in my house and I still play with them.

I am lazy and I like watching TV.

www.postsecret.com

  Many kids shared things that were their favorites.  One student, though, shared something she adamantly, underlined-ly hates.  For this to be what she thought of as her one thing, I wonder how often she thinks about the show.

I hate Monk.  It is a murder movie. 

  Another card shared a secret talent that I would have been just fine not knowing about.  The mental image stayed with me the whole day.

I can spray water out of my eyes if there is some in mine

  My own Thing That Nobody Knows?  A rather obvious one, actually, for anyone who knows me even a little.  My card read, "I am allergic to nuts."  Granted, I hastily jotted it down while also taking attendance and telling someone to walk rather than slide over to morning meeting.  The kids guessed it in half a second flat.  Perhaps I should have used one of these.

  While my disclosure was rather uninspired, nothing beats the vivid, imaginary worlds of third graders.

I climb my tree then when I jump off the tree I land like a spy.


I'm one BB time away from making travel times.  (It means to travel and race.)

The Blazer

As with all items in our classroom lost-and-found, the blazer appeared out of thin air, never having been worn into or carried into the room, but simply materializing in the corner next to the cubbies. 

"Children, how can this sweatshirt/coat/hat belong to NOBODY?" I will ask from time to time when the lost-and-found pile spills its contents onto the floor and reminds me that this same sweatshirt/coat/hat has remained unclaimed for months.

The children always swear it belongs definitely to Tyler and Tyler swears it definitely does not belong to him and we go about three rounds of this before setting the matter of ownership aside to settle another day.

"Tyler?  Are you SURE this is not yours, because I really think it is yours and the other kids really think it is yours."

"No, THIS is mine!" insists Tyler, holding up a nearly identical sweatshirt.

I place the imposter back on top of the ever-growing pile.

Beneath Tyler's sweatshirt, well, OK, the unclaimed sweatshirt we'll call it, sits a small, black blazer.  I am honestly not sure if this was left behind by a kid on picture day or after a performance, or if it's actually a petite women's blazer forgotten by someone observing in our room.

Whatever its mysterious origin, the blazer has now all but found a permanent home.  Michael has discovered the transformative power of a lost-and-found blazer. 

It began one early fall day before coat season had set in but after we had left the short-sleeve months.  The recess air a bit cool for Michael, I suggested he look through the lost-and-found pile for another layer.  A few minutes later, Michael stepped out onto the playground wearing the black blazer--ostensibly for warmth, but clearly more so for style.  He was a cool dude and he knew it.

You could tell that Michael felt transformed wearing the blazer.  Donning it, he went from a regular eight year old boy to "Hey-Man-Alright-Takin'-Care-of-Business-On-My-Way-to-a-Meeting-but-Let's-Do-Lunch-Important-Guy."  Michael managed to be somewhat cold several times over the next few weeks and eventually more or less appropriated the blazer as his own for any uniform-free situations.

Last night was our big performance of all that we have learned about geology.  Now, performances happen to be just such a uniform-free situation.  The kids got to leave their regular uniforms at home and instead wore shirts vaguely resembling the color of whatever stone they portrayed in the skit.  Granite, Marble, Basalt, Sandstone--all came on stage in turn to apply for the job of building material.  As we were getting some last minute things ready for the performance, Michael pulled out the blazer.

"But you're Basalt!  Basalt doesn't wear a blazer!" I exclaimed.  "Just wear the gray shirt you came in, Michael!  Sans blazer!"

Michael obliged, but asked if he could wear it again after the skit.  Yes, Michael.  You can be Important Guy after the skit.  And indeed, as soon as he was finished with the role of Basalt and was ready to answer geology questions from the audience, Michael swapped out for his favorite role as Important, Blazer-Wearing Guy.  He did the role justice.

Call Back on This Number!

You might think that three phonecalls in a row to his teacher earlier this week would be enough to answer whatever urgent homework question a third grader might have.  You would be wrong.

Thursday evening, walking out of school, I turned on my phone to find not one, not two, but THREE phone messages from Kamari, getting progressively more urgent as they went along.

Message 1:

Hi Ms. Sarah, this is Kamari.  I wanted to talk to Ms. Sarah to tell her that I'm going to do my spelling tonight.  I'll turn it in tomorrow.

Alright, call back on this number: 202 555...555-3748.  Thank you and hope you have a wonderful day.

A few minutes later, message 2:

Hey Ms. Sarah, it's Kamari.  I wanted to speak to Ms. Sarah about decimals and um...the question...um, I mean--not decimals, I mean like spelling.  I'm going to do them today.

Call back when you get this message.  202 555-3748.  Thank you.  Have a wonderful day.

For something that was essentially a non-question, he was really eager to get in touch.  Yes, Kamari.  If you didn't do your spelling homework last night, just do it tonight and turn it in tomorrow.  We had been over this before.

By his last message, Kamari was sounding more like a sailor captured by pirates, making a furtive and desperate call for help than an eight year old confused about an assignment.  A very urgent message 3 was left entirely in a rushed whisper as Kamari struggled to get out his plea before the pirates realized he was contacting the outside world.

Message 3:

Ms. Sarah, this is Kamari.  CallBackOnThisNumber2025553748.  Bye.

I finished listening to all of the calls and got in my car to drive home.  On the way, who should ring me up but the message leaver himself.


Hello?
Hi Ms. Sarah, this is Kamari.
Kamari--you are calling me TOO much.
Yeah, I really had to ask you a question about the homework...


I added up the number of times Kamari had called.  Seven calls in two days?  Why all of a sudden so many?  The homework hadn't suddenly spiked in difficulty.  In fact, it is the same weekly spelling assignment Kamari has had for a year and a half. 

Hmmmm. 

Ah.  Yes.  Kamari had turned eight the previous week.  And what did he get for his birthday?  Oh yeah.  A CELL PHONE.

Image: www.wireless.att.com

OK Ms. Sarah, I'll Call You Back

An evening phonecall from Kamari last night managed to turn a single homework question into a three-act event.  

Act 1:

Hello?
Hi Ms. Sarah.
Is this Kamari?  You have to say, "Hi. This is Kamari, can I speak to Ms. Sarah?"
Oh.  OK.  Hi.  This is Kamari, can I speak to Ms. Sarah?
Hi Kamari.  Do you have a question about the homework?
Yeah....for the decimals.....HOLD ON GRANDMA!

[Someone talking in the background]

Hold on Ms. Sarah.

[More talking in the background]

NO GRANDMA, I'M NOT!

[click]

[Ms. Sarah wonders what Kamari so adamantly 'is not.'  Kamari--are you done with your homework?  Kamari--are you bothering your teacher on the phone?]

Act 2, one minute later:

Hi.  It's Kamari again.


[Kamari asks question about decimals.  Ms. Sarah answers question about decimals.]

[Talking in the background]

OK Ms. Sarah, I'll call you back.  Click.

["But...the conversation was over," thinks Ms. Sarah.  There was no more to be continued.  There is no need for calling back....]

Act 3, another minute later: 

[Ms. Sarah talks to Kamari's dad about decimals to settle the "lively debate" they had been having on the subject.  Ms. Sarah hangs up, unconvinced that she has heard the last of Kamari's burning homework question.  Eight year olds, after all, are quite the quirky phone users and message leavers.]

Image: freedigitalphotos.net

Unwrap a Treasure

I always expect the line between Trash and Not Trash to be much more clear than it turns out to be in third grade.  Today I was foiled again by the unclear distinction between the two.

In my book, Trash is something you don't want or need any more, that can't be reused or recycled or given away.  The category of Not Trash includes (but is not limited to) things you want to save for later, or things you might leave out on a shelf.

On my way to the stapler this afternoon after school, I happened to spot a folded up paper.  "Oh look!" I thought to myself.  "This must be a valuable item that someone wants to save for later, seeing as how it is left out on this shelf."  Upon closer inspection, I determined that this piece of Not Trash was actually a carefully folded index card.

"Ah--maybe a love note" I thought.  Those tend to come folded up in such packages.  Perhaps this wad contains reasons # 26-50 of the infamous Reasons Why I Am Nevery Leveing You.  Or maybe it's an interactive Circle Yes or No note.

"Or possibly a freshly lost tooth" I guessed as I opened the folds.  That would certainly be something to save and not throw out.  Well, except when those lost teeth and various other items get mistaken for trash and we have to stage heroic efforts to reclaim the Not Trash.

After several layers, the prized contents revealed themselves to be....pencil shavings.  Really?  That is what was so carefully wrapped and left on a shelf in a Save for Later bundle?  But--it's--[sigh].  I tossed the shavings and their origami-like container into the trash.  

Why would someone take all of that effort to package up some pencil shavings?  I did have some avid pencil lead collectors one year, so I guess there's a precedent for saving odd treasures and, in fact, starting a business by selling them. 

With a class full of eight year olds who, as a group, often save weird things and are also generally bad at cleaning, I guess I won't expect to Trash vs. Not Trash distinction to become any more clear in the near future.

Image: yr6rrr.wikispaces.com