In the Manner of the Adverb

This past week I received my Mid-Year Evaluation, one of two that decide whether or not my very picky school will hire me back the next year, or even allow me to come back to school the next day. Unlike public schools, it is not unheard of at a charter school for people to lose their jobs. Much like the potions position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I've been told by students that my job is cursed because no teachers stay in it past a year.

With this information in mind, I set about trying to figure out what to do to keep my job. I settled on a game I'd played with my students before called "In the Manner of the Adverb." Students get to pick a verb and adverb for the class to act out. We recently learned that prepositions (up, down, in, out, etc.) can also be used as adverbs, so I had them come up with phrases that employ both types for us to use in our game. Here are some examples: We sneaked past greedily (I made them rub their hands together and laugh maniacally as they did this). We ran around wildly. We skipped through gracefully. We fell down dizzily.

It was a warm day, so I decided to take the game out to the playground. The kids had and I had a lot of fun running around outside, and my supervisor was pleased with my teaching. Everybody wins! However, the game didn't go perfectly at all times. Thankfully, the following occurrence did not take place during my observation.

I chose a student to read her sentence, which included the verb race. I turned to the kid next to me, a spry football player, and said, "I'm racing you!" I tore off down the field, and he followed in hot pursuit. He began to gain on me, but he got too close, tangling his feet in mine. I managed to keep going, but he went down hard. The next few seconds are a blur, so I'm not quite sure exactly what happened. Either the force of his fall caused both his shoes and socks to fly off, or they came off as he was chasing me. All I know for certain is that when he got up, his knees were covered in grass stains and his feet were bare. He was a really good sport about it, laughing the whole time, so I hope his mom reacted the same way when she saw the state of his clothing.

A Question No One Wants to Be Asked:

Impish 8th grade boy, smiling: "Have you ever thrown up in your mouth?"
Me, instantly suspicious and wary: "Yes."
Him: "Can I go get a drink, then?"

Tompkins Made a Swear!

If you are an anytime reader of my blog, you'll notice that many of my posts are titled with obscure references that make sense to no one but me, or perhaps Nadia, and this one is no exception. This one comes from HomestarRunner.com's Teen Girl Squad. You might have to watch a few to understand the humor of the cartoon, but you don't have to watch any to understand the humor (if there is any) in this post. On with the show:

As a 6th-grade teacher, one of my duties is teaching my students to spell. My school has a strict spelling program that I am required to use, which involves breaking words up into their syllables. I tell the students the word, then say it in syllables, and they attempt to spell it. This leads to some discomfort for me, because some words, when broken up, either sound like swearwords or are the for-real deal (another HomeStar reference. Sorry!). Let's look at some examples, shall we?

damage
associate
perpendicular
horizontal (which has layers of inappropriateness if you think about it long enough.)

If you can't find the hidden curse in one of these, then I applaud you for being as pure as the driven snow. I don't think I'm at all dirty-minded, but these are things you simply must consider when you are standing in front of a room full of eleven-year-old boys. I have to be on my toes and constantly on the lookout to avoid inappropriateness. The fart joke is king with these boys. I once had to say "Gaelic" in class and the word sent out waves of hysterical giggling.

My tactic in this situation has been to ignore, ignore, ignore. I say the words exactly as I should, with a completely straight face. They are still quite innocent, and as long as I do not acknowledge that anything even remotely naughty is going on, then it will sail right over their heads. This would have never worked in high school, so I'm counting my blessings that I have such a sweet little bunch in my care.

I'm usually very good at this straight-face business, but there is an exception in recent memory that I've wanted to share. We were talking about research papers the other day, and how it is inappropriate to copy someone else's work. I asked them to tell me the word that means to cheat in this way, and I told them it started with a "P." The word I was looking for was "plagiarism." One girl raised her hand excitedly and replied with complete and utter seriousness, "I know what it is! Pornography!" My composure cracked instantly. I tried unsuccessfully to stifle my giggling as I replied, "No, that's another bad thing that starts with a 'P'."

Goofus and Gallant

This week in my English language classes, I'm teaching the Korean students about mail. During class, I discovered quite by accident that Koreans don't have envelopes and stamps that you have to lick to stick (probably due to humidity). The students in these classes usually appear catatonic from so much studying, so I mimicked licking the stamp and envelope to try to get a reaction out of them. They all giggled and smiled, so I played it up by making a face and saying how bad the glue tastes. It kind of made me feel like a barbarian, licking things when they use glue, but whatever it takes to get them interested.


Later, we had a dialogue during which they asked me the price of the stamp in Korean won. The teacher didn't tell me the appropriate price, so I found a currency converter that claimed a 44 cent stamp costs 500 won. I used that number for a while, but then I tried to guess a larger number for sending letters overseas. I overestimated once, and caused the girls I was practicing with to giggle. In the next line of the dialogue they have to ask how long it will take for their letter to arrive, so I chose some crazy number to keep the gag going.

I started doing it cautiously with other students, seeing if they would get the joke. I was a little wary because Korean education is serious business, especially when English is concerned. My co-teacher had left the room momentarily and I kept worrying that she was going to come back in the room and catch me (gasp!) having fun with the children. But when she did return, she never said a word. With her assumed approval I kept getting wilder, until stamps cost 1 million won ($862) and letters took 100 days to reach their destination. She never mentioned my exaggerations, so I'm not even sure if she knew what I was doing, but I'm hoping she just has a better sense of humor than the language barrier allows her to show.


I do similar things with my 6th graders. We are now reading the book Hatchet, which is about a boy stranded in the wilderness after a plane crash. He is basically starving, and he describes the changes in his body by saying his stomach is nearing his backbone. After I read this to them, I got up and stuck out my belly as far as it would go, and then sucked it back in again to show what he meant. We also talked about how smoke can darken things, and I told them that if you stick around a fire long enough, your boogers will turn black. The boys really appreciated that one. Anything gross will just pull them right in, which is why when the protagonist talked about eating grasshoppers, I casually mentioned that I knew for a fact that ants tasted like lemons. This set off a wave of bug eating stories, and it took me a while to calm them back down.

I love to try to make them squirm. The boy in are story has to eat a raw egg, and I read his description of it in disgusting detail, including a nauseous voice and facial expressions. Once he is attacked by a swarm of mosquitoes, and he describes them as "a living coat" of insects. I always remind them of this scene whenever mosquitos are mentioned, and I don't stop talking about it until they start shivering and trying to brush imaginary bugs off their arms. I always love my job a lot more when my students are having fun, so I try to create moments like these as much as I possibly can.

The Tiny Ugly Germs

I have always been a germ-conscious person, but with all the swine flu hysteria going around lately, this trait of mine has ramped into high gear. I read somewhere that swine flu only gets in through your mouth and nose (Confirmation Clint?) and that you should avoid touching your face at all costs. I never realized how much I did touch my face I had to stop doing it cold turkey. Try it sometime. It'll drive you crazy.

I did everything I could to stay well. I was a woman possessed. I washed my hands until they cracked and scabbed, gargled saline, swabbed out my nostrils with saltwater, and developed a fear of touching anything in my workspace. Have you ever had a moment in which you wash your hands, and then can't bring yourself to touch anything because you can't risk spoiling your decontamination efforts? Trapped! It was a war zone. Kids were falling ill one by one, teachers were out sick for days at a time, but my descent into obsessive compulsive disorder was working! I was going to make it through unscathed.

Then, BAM! Last Thursday I drive home with a splitting headache, I barely make it through school on Friday, and then I spend the weekend unconscious on the couch. Luckily I just have a little cold, for which I blame Thomas, and I'm pretty much over it now. I was well enough to speak in church on Sunday and go to work the past two days, but I almost wish I was sick enough to stay home. I feel fine, but I have a runny nose and a cough, and in my new state of heightened germ awareness, I feel like I can see the germs coming out of me and attacking everyone around me. Everything I touch glows like radioactive waste, and I can see the journey of my germs as they migrate around the school. I cough into my hand or wipe my nose, and then pass out the correcting pencils or the day's assignment, touch the communal teacher microwave, the doorknob to my classroom, and feel a pang of guilt each time I leave another glowing green patch in my waste. It's quite the dilemma: too well to stay home but sick enough to possibly be contagious. Obviously I have chosen the selfish option, so I just hope that nobody gets sick while I am getting well.

And now we must get to the title of my post (and to be honest, the real reason why I took the time to write this whole thing in the first place) which comes from the popular, but extremely creepy kids show Yo Gabba Gabba. For some unknown reason, someone was playing it in a classroom on Halloween and I witnessed this gem, which teaches us about those tiny ugly germs which make us sick. Enjoy!

UPDATE: The link to the video was broken but has since been repaired.

It's Just a Phase

One thing I've discovered recently is that sixth graders are extremely susceptible to fads. One kid starts doing something, and by the end of the day, every kid has begun copying them. I think the tendency becomes magnified at my school, which has only 75 sixth graders who have several classes a day together.

They have begun doing two things recently to drive their teachers mad. The first is making paper claws. Behold:
It started with just one boy, but by the next day, 4 to 5 boys per class were wearing them. The claws themselves are inoffensive, but the lack of self-control displayed by eleven-year-old boys is. They rush through their work, or don't do it at all, so they can fold them. They fold them under their desk when they think I'm not watching. They try to do their classwork while wearing them. Can you imagine trying to hold a pencil with those one your fingers? Their handwriting is illegible enough, they do not need any more help in that department.


Once I noticed the trend, I forbade them immediately. Then I started confiscating them. But in case you want to fold some, here is a link to a video how to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7LGc_KUs_I

The second annoying trend is the snap game. I have never heard of it before, so it might be native to my school. Here is how the game works: "Throw" a snap at your friend. They "catch" the snap by snapping, and then throw the snap back. That's it! Sounds pretty boring, just snapping at people. But if you think that, then you would be wrong. The snap game is the latest craze. We can't even get through a lesson without multiple snap games breaking out.

I have a couple of strategies for dealing with the snap game. Strategy 1: I "catch" every snap, and then put them in my pocket. Strategy 2: I catch the snaps and eat them. Then I say, "I have ALL of the snaps, so nobody can be playing the snap game right now." These strategies don't work very well, because unless I tape their fingers together, my students will always have an unlimited supply of snaps. Thomas has suggested we let them use the paper claws, because at least they can't snap. I'm just hoping they'll soon become fascinated with something less disruptive.

Mummy Dearest

Today to finish up our Egypt unit, I sent a student to the underworld. First, I killed him via leopard attack, and then I laid him across three desks in the front of the room so I could mummify him. We used a student's lion backpack to simulate canopic jars, paper towels for linen wrappings, a baby doll for the shabtis, and an apple from my desk for food in the afterlife. We traveled with him over the celestial river, through the massive labyrinth, and finally to the court of the underworld. We weighed his soul to see if it was heavy from earthly misdeeds, and then decided whether he could pass on to Egyptian heaven, or if we would have to feed his soul to the fearsome she-demon, Ammut. I let him pass on to heaven, which disappointed many students, probably even the one being mummified.

We then reviewed what we had learned over the past few weeks. In response to the incredible advances made by the Egyptians (geometry, medicine, etc), one student provided an alien visitation theory. When I asked how the Sphinx lost its nose, two separate students tried to retell a scene from Disney's Aladdin. And finally, someone shared a story he'd heard about a mummified hand being kept in a bank vault and then coming back to life for some reason. Other than that, though, they seemed to know a lot about Egypt.