Who Wears That?

Today I was called out on not having weather-appropriate shoes by an eight-year-old.  Surprisingly enough, it was not the first time an eight-year-old boy has weighed in on my attire.

This afternoon we were out on the playground, kids frolicking in the light dusting of flakes that had begun falling.  I had just intervened in a playground collision incident between a couple of kids in the other third grade class, which ended with Mykell and Donivan both coming out alright.  Just before she bounded away to play, I noticed that Mykell had some fantastic striped rainbow socks, and complimented them.  The three of us all peered down to behold the footwear, and Donivan exclaimed, "Who wears that in winter??"  Some seasonal faux-pas had left him as incredulous as a reality TV star trashing a cast-mate's outfit.

"Wears what?" I asked, wondering what could be so non-winter about the rainbow socks.

"You!  What you're wearing!  Your shoes!" he said.

I looked down to assess the situation.  On the snow-preparedness scale, I suppose my teachery shoes and dress socks would rate fairly low.  I had dressed my feet for standing and checking geometry work, for sitting and listening to kids read, for walking to and from the copier, for communicating to the world, "This is my job!" 

But Donivan knew what a huge mistake I had made in not dressing my feet for extreme weather.  "This lady is leaving herself susceptible to the elements!" he must have thought.  "If an avalanche occurs, she is guaranteed to get frostbite.  I mean, what if we end up outside for 6 hours in a blizzard?  Those thin socks will just not cut it.  Or what if we encounter a sheet of ice and she can't get any traction?  Winter shoes should communicate to the world, 'I am prepared for survival!' "

Donivan dashed off, with the super-sonic speed, ultra-grip traction, and cozy warmth of someone making better choices with their life.  I wandered over to see which of the perpetual "No, I'm not out!" debates I could help settle at the Four Square game. 

On the way, I passed a kid who had stripped down to a long-sleeved shirt.  "Get your coat on!  It's too cold out for you to be wearing that!"  I told him. 

 

I mean, who wears that in winter?

Let Me Make Sure I Have This Right

Recess?  Or special project?  Recess?  Special project?

It's really a no brainer for most kids.  Even when presented with the opportunity to do something pretty cool during recess, very few things could be worth staying in for.  

Last week I asked during morning meeting who might be interested in helping to stain some paper using tea to make it look sufficiently 1790-ish for a history project.   Faced with the options of a) raise hand right now to sign up for something cool that I just heard about and want right now vs. b) think ahead to what I will want in four hours, lots of kids chose based on "right now."  Many hands went up, including those of eager helpers who would ultimately become far less eager when 12:30 actually rolled around.

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Raymond was torn.

Recess?  Or special project?  Or....both?

As we were transitioning from morning meeting back to tables, Raymond came up to me to clarify a bit more about the timing of this project.  "Is it during recess?" he asked.  "Yes." I explained.  "If you wanted to do the tea you would do that instead of recess."  Raymond took in this information and went back to his table.

During snack, Raymond came up to me again.  "If it were after recess, I'd do it."

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"I have no doubt you would, Raymond." I replied.

Math came and went and still Raymond was wrestling with the choice between the two very enticing things happening simultaneously.  He was also still desperately trying to find a way to enable himself to do both.  Raymond clearly thought that if he asked enough times or in enough different ways he might influence my extremely poor scheduling decision.

"Do the tea-stainers get their recess later?"

Sadly, the answer was no, and Raymond really would have to choose between the two. 

He opted for recess.

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.

We Mess With Them!

Setting up long trains of toppling dominoes, building assorted machines out of plastic Zoobs, and pretending to know how to play Mancala are all popular options for how to spend indoor recess or Earned Free Time in the third grade.  The way that Earned Free Time works is that the class can save some time by being particularly quick to clean up or by finishing our bathroom break in under the time allotted.  That time gets deposited into our Earned Free Time amount.  On Fridays, we take a few minutes to "spend" that time with the dominoes, the Zoobs, and fake Mancala.

Another option for how to make use of this free time is to make grand plans for total domination over the boys.

Keisha and Deja are big planners.  First, they had their Girl Calendar, outlining all of their various recess activities, including one spot on Tuesdays reserved for simply, "Girls are better than boys."  I wasn't clear, exactly, on what that activity would entail, but now I've seen their accompanying plan which seems to flesh out the calendar more fully.  And with more dollar signs.

The wording of this plan is really less an outline of proposed activities than it is a rallying cry or call to action.  I assume that there is an appropriate way to read the plan, and that is as follows:

1. Gather crowd of loyal supporters of your cause.


2. Stand on improvised platform in front of a podium if possible.

3. Loudly and passionately proclaim your intentions: "We MESS with the boys!"

4. Clench fist and raise it in the air.

5. Shake fist while repeating the plan for more emphasis: "We MESS WITH THEM!" [Note: Draw out 
the vowels for yet more emphasis.]

6. Crowd of loyal supporters echoes your rallying cry back to you.

7. Proceed, en masse, towards the Four Square game to carry out plan.

Spying on Kids

You may be wondering how you're going to fit some quality hopscotch time into your busy schedule.  Well wonder no more!  Thanks to the handy Girl Calendar, I can keep you up to date on all the plans for any given day of recess.

The other day during a rainy indoor recess, I happened upon Keisha and Deja crafting a daily agenda of playground activities.

According to their Girl Calendar, Mondays will feature games of tag and Zip, Zap, Zoom as well as a dance competition.  If you're more of a Dancing with the Stars kind of gal, then be sure to show up Tuesdays after Zookeeper's Keys.

Tuesday also includes an item listed simply as, "Girls are better than boys."  I'm not entirely certain how this constitutes a recess activity rather than just a firmly-held conviction.  Do they spend that time reveling in how much better girls are than boys?  Do they stage tests of skill and cunning designed to prove their superiority over the male members of the class?

Under Wednesday is listed, "Work!  Work!  WORK!"  At first, I was impressed by the girls' dedication to learning, as shown by voluntarily opting to do work during recess.  Then I realized that we don't have recess on Wednesdays.

Which brings us to Thursday, which will apparently be taken up by "Spying on kids" and "Asking kids about their personal life."  Will there be a survey?

Round out the week with some hopscotch (See?  I told you this calendar would help you fit it in!), a little tag, and playing house, and you've got yourself a week!

Today's Lightsaber Update

As it turns out, what Jerome and I would talk about today was...still lightsabers. The latest development with Jerome's lightsaber is that is has now become visible. He got his hands on a long thin cylinder from the blue foam blocks and presented it to me outside this afternoon. Unfortunately, though, it was out of juice, so he was on his way to the lightsaber doctor. I'm guessing I will get a full report on how that went next week.

The Lightsaber Bond

I am very much NOT a fan of Star Wars, but Jerome in the other second grade class and I have bonded on the playground over lightsabers. Jerome struck me as the kind of guy who might make a good friend for Sam in my class, so I staged a very manufactured coincidence one day to get them to hang out on the playground. After noticing that Sam was playing some sort of lightsaber....well, whatever it is one does with lightsabers, I sidled up to Jerome and asked if by some pure coincidence, he might possibly like Star Wars. Well, sure enough, he did, and my grand plan was well underway. Next step--"happen upon" Sam and his zzwooshing saber of light, introduce the boys to each other, and point out their shared love of lightsabers. As Sam stood there zzwooshing away, I offered Jerome the imaginary lightsaber that I keep in my back pocket at all times. He accepted and off they went.
  A few days later at recess, Jerome came up to me with a wide grin and displayed the loaned lightsaber that he still had with him. Today on the playground, he rushed over to tell me that he has now purchased his own lightsaber. I asked if he had gotten a good deal on it, and indeed he had. If the goal of my plan was to strike up a friendship, I think it has succeeded. I wonder what Jerome and I will talk about tomorrow!

It's Jerome!

It’s important to know where your friends are at all times in elementary school—especially at recess. Should you misplace a friend at this crucial time of building and chasing and roaring, it will be very hard to build a sufficiently tall structure out of blocks, nearly impossible to chase, and everyone knows that the best roars are duets. Our playground is smaller than a classroom, but even in a compact area, a recess friend could be just out of sight behind the twisty slide or under the bridge.

The other day, Jerome came outside a few minutes after the rest of the class—but an important few minutes. While Jerome was depositing his eyeglasses safely at the front office, his friend LeRoy had managed to blend in with the recess landscape, and was nowhere to be found. The building! The chasing! Roars! Jerome needed to find LeRoy—and fast. He stood at one end of the playground, cupped his hands around his mouth, took a deep breath and tilted his head towards either the sky or the playground gods. “LE-ROY!” he bellowed, and looked around to see if his buddy had come out of hiding. No luck. Perhaps LeRoy had heard his name being shouted from over by the slide, but hadn’t recognized the source of the calls. “LE-ROY!” Jerome bellowed again into the playground air. “It’s Juh-ROME!!”