Me and My (Not So) Worldly Ways

I have always prided myself in knowing the ways of the world.  Even though I attended a Christian university, I thought public high school taught me all (or more than) that I ever needed to know.  If you can't tell by that line of thinking, I'm pretty naive.

Dear Fake-Seizing student is really having a difficult time maintaining appropriateness when he comes to my classroom.  It seems that everyday he is escorted to the behavior specialist because he just can't get it together.  My dear Teacher Friend has Fake-Seizing student the hour before I do, and before coming to class she coached him with, "Ok, I want you to feel successful, so if you feel something inappropriate about to come out of your mouth, take your hands and cover your mouth."

This advice seemed to work.  The other boys in the class were being very loud, and Fake-Seizing student kept his hand over his mouth the whole time.  I was proud of him.  I turned my back to get something off of my counter and suddenly all of the boys start yelling, "Fake Seizing student is cussing!  Fake-Seizing student is cussing!"  I didn't hear anything, and turned around to see him doing sign language.  I thought that was cool because he has a penchant for languages (hence the Bulgarian curse words) and told the tattlers to settle down because he was just signing.  

I then (stupidly) said, "I know a little sign.  I can tell you what he's saying."

Fake-Seizing student continues to sign, and I see that he's finger spelling.

"Oh, he's spelling.  See:  B-I-T-C.  Oh no!  He's spelling!  Ok, boys, back to work."

Not so worldly after all.

The students at my school come from several school districts in the metro area (probably at least 15-20 different ones), and each district provides their own transportation.  One notorious district has a particularly shady bus.  They can't ever seem to make it to school on time and have some funny (as in odd) behavior management techniques with the students.  One time they even admitted to pulling off of a major interstate so they could get a big blue ball off the side of the road to donate to the PE department.

One day last week they were really late-like over an hour.  Sweet Student (who has been placed in my homeroom since the linked post) rides that bus, and when she arrived I asked her what the hold up had been.  She said, "Darcie, a Metro Bus hit us and just drove off."  This student isn't exactly known for her truthfulness, so I had a hard time believing her story.

When I put her on the bus that evening, I said to the bus driver, "Well, I heard you had quite a morning."  She responded with "I sure did.  A Metro Bus hit us and drove right off.  He knocked off our mirror and scraped the whole side.  We tried to follow him, but he got away."

Ok, the fact that kids could have been hurt is not at all funny, but does anyone else see humor in a hit and run involving a city bus and a big yellow school bus?

Huge Dead Snake!

One of my dear teacher friends sent me this video.

You must watch it before you continue reading.

After a particularly challenging week (ex.  trying to hit me, accusing me of conspiracies, looking up Bulgarian curse words) with my big boys, they changed their behavior and were angels on Friday.

I thought they would enjoy this video, since they like all things gross, and decided to show it to them.  They were all sufficiently shocked at the video's end, and my dear dramatic, fake-seizing student was most shocked of them all.

He grabbed his back, screamed, and then shouted, "I think it bit me!"

Oh Yay! It's Cooking Day!

Warning: Twitter friends-you have seen the condensed version of this.

Today, once again, was cooking day.  Some of my classes made pancakes, and some of my classes made cupcakes (totally irrelevant to this story).  Second hour, after the cooking was over, I was preparing a sink of water in which to wash dishes with my back turned to the class.  I summoned a student over to wash, who has Down's Syndrome and is quite the ladies man. (There have many occasions when I have had to correct him when he calls me "Darling" instead of "Darcie"-he just laughs).

All of a sudden I feel two pinches on both sides of my backside.  I scream, which seems to be my reaction to all things startling as of late, turned around, and see my little Ladies Man quickly pulling his hands away.

He immediately is contrite, but I still had to write another ridiculous behavior/incident report that will stay with me for the duration of my employment:  

"While standing at the sink, the student approached me and pinched me on both buttocks."

Day of the Living Dead

One of my most animated students (the one with the Russian neighbors) somedays decides that he isn't going to be himself and refers to himself as Billy Bob.  Well, Billy Bob came to visit Monday during social skills class.  Billy Bob did some of his work and then decided to fall out of his chair and die.  I tried to play into Billy Bob's game by rolling his 200+ lb body over and asking him if he was alright.  I tried to call the coroner (the behavior specialist).  I almost put ice down Billy Bob's shirt, until I decided that a punch from a 200+ lb guy just wasn't worth it.

When class was over, Billy Bob decided to become undead, stand up, and go to his next class.

I was pretty disappointed Billy Bob chose Monday to die.  I'm sure he would have given some great social skills answers.

I can't remember if I've shared this or not, but I now have an all girl homeroom.  The girls range between 12 and 17, and can we say drama?  All the time, nonstop drama.  

Anyway, today two of my girls were singing some song (it's probably popular, but I'm too old to know) about booty shaking and shorty going low low low low and dropping it like it's hot and who knows what else. Not only were they singing, but they were booty shaking and going low low low low and dropping it like it was hot.  They know that going low low low low is a big no no, and I pulled them aside and told them that their dancing was inappropriate and was going to give the boys the wrong idea.  One dear girl spouted off:

"No boy will get the wrong idea about me.  I'm a Christian!"

Oh my.

The Truth Hurts

My kids manage to know what my deepest (ok, maybe not deepest) insecurities are and can take a verbal knife and stab right through them. This is why social skills classes are so necessary in this field.

"Eeew...your arm is squishy. Is that all fat?"

"Your breath stinks like coffee."

"Why is your nose so pointy?"

My favorite example of this happened Friday.

I walk into a classroom where my big boy class is. One of my boys, who I'll call Tall Guy, you can't help but love. He's between 6'3 and 6'5 and is super tall and super skinny. His jeans are always too small because his mom can't find any to fit him. He's about 17 and could talk for hours about science fiction and bioengineered superfoods. Everything he says is pretty much over my head.

Anyway, Friday I was feeling really self conscious about my hair, so much so that I made a hair appointment for the following day. It was pretty frizzy and just wouldn't curl or lay right.

Tall Boy: Darcie, what's wrong with your hair? Did you get into a wreck?

Me: A wreck?

Tall Boy (talking really quickly and almost nervously): I don't mean a car wreck. I mean an emotional wreck. Did you have an emotional wreck and not have time to fix your hair this morning?

Me: Ummm....well I guess it's a good thing I'm getting my hair cut tomorrow.

The truth hurts, I suppose.