something funny

I am in charge of the dance team at our school.

Enough said.

I'll update you next month after you've stopped laughing.

sad day in georgia

I just found out that the coffee shop at which I sit and grade papers and use their free wireless internet is closing. Tomorrow is their last day open. Now where am I supposed to get free wireless internet?

And it was the location at which I made my first Macon friend. (Now, that part doesn't make me that sad, but I thought it would make me sound a little less selfish than whining about loss of free wireless internet.) But seriously, where am I going to find free internet?

I have no idea.

listen to me whine

Maybe I should have my students fill out new class evaluations. I thought we were all getting along so well, and enjoying Chemistry so much, but for some reason, within the past four days, TWO of my students have gone to the principal and told him they want to transfer out of my class because I hate them and apparently pick on them and am mean to them. Whatever. I gave them detentions. That's not that mean.

Luckily, Mr. Principal man suggested to Girl 1 that maybe if she didn't sit in the back of the class and talk to her friends and write on the lab tables, our relationship might improve. And luckily she took his advice and is now a delight in class, and no longer thinks that I hate her.

Not so luckily, Mr. Principal man told Boy 1's mother and grandmother that I would LOVE to have a conference with them to discuss the problem. And not so luckily Boy 1's mother has the same attitude problem as her son. Huh. Imagine that. So after school today, I was delighted by 45 minutes of interrogation by Boy's mother and grandmother, asking why I'm so mean to him and why I told him I don't care about him and why I yell at him and why I'm failing him. (Accompanied by rather frightening glares.) Never mind the fact that he either argues with me or flat-out ignores me every time I say ANYTHING to him, and never listens to a word I say and therefore doesn't even know what a proton is six weeks into Chemistry class. Clearly I am the problem. If I treated him with a little more respect, he would probably treat me with a little more respect. And clearly the assignment I gave, the assignment that I spent twenty minutes of class explaining, and that every other student seemed to understand perfectly well, was way too confusing and he therefore cannot be held responsible for failing. But as a consolation prize, Boy's grandma told me just how HOT Boy thinks I am. So I guess that makes it all okay?

And then I gave another Girl 2 a detention (for swearing) and she had an absolute conniption in class, I wanted to cry. Watching a student knocking ladders over and screaming and stomping around the room was just about all I could handle. Yikes. So I whined to the school counselor, cause he's a nice guy and knows Girl 1, Girl 2, and Boy 1 very well, and therefore understands my frustration. And he gave me a free t-shirt. Now my day is much better.

So in summary, it's been a long week. But on a better note, one of my students brought me donuts this morning, just because he's so nice. And Andrew is now bringing me an apple every friday, simply because teachers are supposed to like apples. And I was invited to be his best friend. And my physics students, the ones that every single teacher has warned me are so lazy and not so smart and not so polite, just turned in a set of beautiful lab reports. And they already understand Newton's laws way better than last year's students. And not a single one of them has complained about me to anyone. Can I just tell you how much I heart freshmen? I do. A lot.

Class Evaluations

Last week I was feeling brave, so I let my students fill out "class evaluations," which basically means they tell me (anonymously) their favorite and least favorite aspects of the class, what they understand the best and what is most confusing to them. This was done under the pretense that I value their opinions and want each student not only to be successful, but to enjoy the class as well. Really I knew there would be a whole lot of buttkissing going on, and it makes me feel good to have students write that their favorite part of class is me, and that there's just nothing that they don't like about my class thus far. (Um, is there some dirt on your nose? Cause it's looking a little brown.)

As expected, most of them are phenomenal buttkissers, which made me feel pretty good, they were pleased that I had asked for their opinions, and everyone left class happy. Mission accomplished. I was not, however, expecting a note with the name "Mr. Math Teacher" signed at the top with the responses "my favorite part of the class is getting to see you every day, my least favorite part is when I have ot leave, I understand that I really like you, but the one thing I don't get is why you never call."

Dear Students,

No, I am not dating the math teacher.

And no, I am not going to start dating the math teacher.

Yes, I sat next to him at the football game yesterday. And yes, we walked out of the stadium together. But that's because we just happened to arrive at the same time, and we just happened to park next to each other. I assure you it was purely coincidental.

So all those raised eyebrows and excited squeals? They can stop.

Thanks,
Ms. Reed

i'm fashionable

Or so says my student John.

But the sad part of the story is that after John told me I was fashionable, and I put my hands on my hips and told him "Thank you very much, John, I really appreciate that," poor sweet John thought I was being sarcastic. And then he got very scared and wanted to leave my class before I started yelling at him for telling me I am fashionable.

I'm not sure why anyone would ever yell at someone for calling them fashionable, but he was nevertheless very afraid. Maybe because I was in such shock that John, who is a delightful child but much more likely to make fun of me than to call me fashionable, had given me a sincere compliment that my thank-you was said in more of a tone of surprise than gratitude. But then I didn't yell, and then he was very confused and did not know what to do.

Luckily, John is very smart and knows how to use deductive reasoning and therefore concluded that since I did not yell at him I was sincerely grateful that he also me fashionable. So now guess what? John and I are "tight". That's what he told me. And that's what he told his friends at the football game when I walked by.

And that's a happy ending to a sad story.