Phat Teacher

Not too many years ago, I was teaching a group of 5th graders. Every day a handful of them would leave my room debating the latest political events, arguing for or against the Republicans and Democrats who were leading our country. And every day, as they left, I laughed as I thought about the worldliness of our youngsters…and how very different it was from 1970 when I was in 5th grade.

You see, I grew up out in the country. We had one black and white TV with so much snow that only two and a half channels came in. I say “a half”  of a channel because one station would only come in if one of us would hold a wire coat hanger high above our heads, foot pressed against the wall, with our free hand clenched tightly to the antenna wire that dangled from the portable rabbit ears. So, needless to say, we did not watch the news. In order for a show to be worthy of all of that effort, it had to be something good…something like Dragnet or Medical Center or even football…but definitely not the news.

So, the other day, just before the opening day of school, my mind took this journey back to the 1970s…to what we talked about as fifth graders. Believe me, it was not an in-depth conversation, but I will share it with you.

Picture this: It was the the first day of 5th grade in a small town. We sat in a pristine classroom with 24 desks lined up in perfectly formed rows. The teacher, an old lady with thick glasses and dyed jet-black hair sat at her desk, clapping her hands and announcing for everyone to “quickly choose a seat because we don’t have all day.” (Ummm…even a small town 5th grader knew that wasn’t correct. We did have all day.) A friend of mine had chosen a seat behind me, just off to my left. While the teacher with the unnaturally dark hair and the completely natural wrinkles listed off every rule we were to follow and what would happen if we broke them, my friend opened his desk and stuck his head inside. He pulled out his box of 64 Crayola Crayons and pressed them into my arm. “Hey!” he called out in a whisper. “Smell these! Don’t they smell good?”

And that was it…the depth of our fifth grade conversations back in 1970. We didn’t understand politics…nor did we care. We were kids. Our biggest thrill was having a new box of crayons that “smelled” awesome. Life just seemed a lot easier when all you worried about was whether your status depended upon if you were the kid with the 24, 48, or 64 count box of crayons. I wish life was that easy now.

And so remember, life’s simple pleasures don’t have to be a new house or even a new car…a new box of crayons will do.

So, here’s wishing you a ton of simple pleasures this school year…and at least one new box of Crayola Crayons this year.

The Fat/Phat Teacher,

Mary

Today is day number 7 of a 12 day Christmas vacation that is passing entirely too fast! These are the days when I should be able to sleep until noon, sit around in my PJs, and drink hot chocolate by the fire. Well, for some wacked out reason, it’s just not happening.

Since vacation started, I force myself to go to bed later than my usual 10:00 crash. (I get up at 5:00…so going to bed early is a must if the kids want me to be awake during the day.) Then, I read trashy novels that keep my eyes open longer than the journals and other educational ”sleep aid” books that line my bedside table. But still, when the light snaps off and I fall into that deep sleep during the first few hours…I dream! Not fun dreams of eating my fill at Old Country Buffet or playing dirty tricks on my friends or even traveling to the moon in those really cool space suits. No, these are stupid dreams, horrifying dreams of kids who never behave, disappear constantly, or just don’t listen. I always wake up in a panic, until I realize that, once again, it was just a dream. Then, with a much effort, I fall back to sleep, but the dream continues. And since I can’t stop them, I always try to add in little evil devices that make them more bearable: cattle prods, electric-shock chairs, tasers, etc… I picture myself standing in the front of the room dressed as a pirate wielding a sword…trying to gain control. I figure, it’s just a dream, so I might as well have it my way. But…it still NEVER works! The kids remain little, uncontrolable monsters!

Have I lost it? Is there a reason that I can’t keep myself focused on vacation instead of school? I have decided the answer to both of those questions is YES! (I have lost it, first of all! Most teachers have.) Secondly, there is a reason that my mind continues to wander back to school. It’s because I care too much! Teachers have a desire to want to do their best…and that one desire…or need, perhaps…brings about fear. Not fear of the kids, but fear of not being great!

So, the way I see it, go ahead…imagine those cattle prods and tasers…and even that long pirate sword, but when the dream is over…remember why you became a teacher, take a deep breath, and go out there and make a difference! There’s bound to be another vacation coming soon.

Mary the Phat/Fat Teacher

When Noah hit 40 days in the ark, the storm was over! So gently and lovingly, he opened the ark, and waited for the water to soak into the earth so he could let the animals safely go. For those 40 days, he put up with two animals of every kind: ducks, elephants, lions, snakes, etc… He even put up with two mosquitoes when he could easily have squashed them, but didn’t!  So, how is it that he stayed sane and caring during that entire time? It’s a good thing Noah didn’t have two of every kind of middle-schooler on the ark. I am afraid he may have thrown some of them overboard long before the storm was over.

That being said, we are now slightly past 40 days of school, and I believe it’s time to open the school doors and let the animals run free! (It’s not called THANKSGIVING VACATION for nothing!) For those past 40+ days, we have put up with two of every kind of middle-schooler…some I didn’t even know existed.

I could never be as kind as Noah was – nor as patient and caring. There are those moments when I wonder if I am even still sane. Of course I’m not sane! I go back every single day, don’t I? I returned after two kids attempted a “head-first” race down the banister…forgetting you can’t stop when you reach the end. I returned after they decided that if everyone got H1N1, the school would close…and so spent the next week breathing on every table, door knob, and water faucet. I returned after they collected every piece of gum from under the tables and created a “gum statue” just to show me how much they found. And I returned after they took all of the candy in my “bribe-bucket” and made a trail for me to follow…only to find, at the other end, four eighth grade boys eating their way back to my room. No…I am not sane, and neither are middle-schoolers.

But you know what? I sort of like them, anyway! Recently, I purchased a book called the IMMATURITY ENCYCLOPEDIA! What teacher in their right mind would make that book available to middle-schoolers to read - knowing full-well that they will try everything in the book? Proof, again…I am not sane! But maybe that’s what you need to be a teacher. Maybe you need to be able to see the humor in things that others would find outrageous! Or maybe you just need to be plain old nuts. Either way, I think I’m covered!

Mary…the Phat/Fat Teacher

Remember back, long before you actually went to college? Back then, you could be anything you wanted to be. Your future was a blank slate. Then, at some point, you made a decision to become a teacher. Why? you now ask yourself? What was it about teaching that made it sounds like a better idea than, say a toy tester or a candy maker? What made it sound like it would be more enticing than a lion tameror even a parole officer? Because as I see it, after 28 years, there are days when I ponder that question. Today being one of them!

I didn’t always want to be a teacher. Truth be told, I NEVER wanted to be a teacher. But it all happened so fast…sort of like when a turtle gets mugged by a couple of snails! I had it in my head that I wanted to go to college, but there was no particular field that really drew me in…until orientation week. 

At the college I attended, Bemidji State University, you had to declare a major before you started Freshman year. I was sitting next to my boy friend, at the time…currently my first husband. I tossed my head back onto the back of the couch…and sighed loudly. “What?” he asked impatiently. ”I have to declare a major, and I have no clue what I want to do for the rest of my life.” He ignored me and continued to fill out his paperwork. I slid onto the floor and sighed louder. “What?” he asked more loudly. Rather indignant, I replied, “I just told you! I don’t know what to put down as my major!” Again, he continued to work on his own papers. I launched myself across his lap and looked up at him. “I don’t know what to be when I grow up!” I whined. He pushed me off of his lap and smoothed out his own registration papers – the ones that I had crumpled in my dramatic episode. “Just pick something easy. Be a teacher. They have an easy job.” Still lying on the floor, I sighed again. “Fine. How hard could that be?”

Needless to say, we were both very wrong. But don’t worry…he got his due! As the four years of college passed, he somehow got it into his thick head to switch his major from journalism to education. His reasoning: “Well, now that we’re married…(we got married after Freshman Year)…we could save money by sharing books.” Isn’t that just the best reason you’ve ever heard of for changing your major from something you really loved? Can you say cheap?

Tonight, he was late getting home from school. (He is now an elementary principal.) I called and left a message on his office phone and his cell phone, and I sent a text. About half an hour later, the phone rang. “Still at school. The police just left.” That was all I got, but it didn’t sound like a good day to me. I smiled! Huh! It looked like his bad day trumped my bad day.

Lately, at school, there have been lots of days like that: police, rain soaked carpets, moldy ceiling tiles, kids throwing up, kids absent, etc… It’s always something.

BUT… even with all that yucky stuff, it definitely adds interest to my days. Today, was not the best day for either one of us…but tomorrow might be. You just never know. And that’s what keeps me coming back…day after day for 173 days a year…for 28 years…for 8 more. That and the big, fat teacher paycheck!

Mary…the Phat/Fat Teacher

Every night when I exit the school building, I leave perfectly planned lessons on my desk. They fit the state and federal standards, have some sort of an attention grabber, an objective, guided practice, and independent practice (homework)…except of course, for Fridays. (Who wants homework on Friday?) Anyway, by the time I get to class, my lessons have completely changed…nothing is as I had planned. Some little crumb of an idea begins irritating my brain until I finally give in and everything I had planned has completely fallen away.

Take today’s lesson for example. I was supposed to introduce exponents…you know 4 to the power of 3. Well, I had this great lesson all planned out when something on the shelf behind my desk caught my eye. (Keep in mind that I am abstract random, ADHD, and a whole series of other things that aren’t necessarily perfect teacher qualities.) Anyway, I immediately scooped two volunteers out of their chairs, grabbed a loaded brown paper bag from my shelf, and dragged both bag and “victims” into the hallway. Quickly explaining my directions to the two students…I dashed back inside to “set the stage”.

I leapt up onto the wooden box that sits in the front of my room, and grabbed a whiteboard marker (a makeshift microphone) from the ledge up front, and began shouting. “Alright you guys! We have a couple of visitors who have just flown in from across the country. Give it up for “THE BASE”! The kids, getting caught up in my spirit, clapped and hooted wildly as one of my “visitors” flew into the classroom wearing a green and silver lame’ superhero costume. He landed in the front of the classroom and in a loud and extremely low voice announced, “I am THE BASE! I am a superhero, and I am here to fight the evil-doers of the world.” Again, the kids cheered as he continued. “Periodically, I need help from my superhero brothers.” Hearing this, a second superhero flew into the room and landed next to the first.

To make a long story short…the BASE BROTHERS were the superheroes, and the “secret number” (the exponent) was the number of extra superheroes needed to destroy the evil-doers in any given situation. (The power is a secret…therefore written very small…so the enemy doesn’t know how many BASE BROTHERS will attack.)

After a few minutes, the kids completely understood how to lay the problem out and how to calculate the answer. Monday, I will introduce the Powers of 10…and the evil villain who, when multiplied by a decimal, sends us sprawling backwards a bit.

So much for my originally devised lesson plans: Exponent Baseball and Extravaganza Challenge. THE BASE superheroes stole the show.

Anyway, I was telling my husband (an elementary principal) about the impromptu powers lesson. He laughed and said, “Where in the world do these ideas come from? Do you just pull them out of your butt?” I hope that’s not where they come from, but maybe if we could just harness a little bit more teaching fun…and a lot less drill and killwhen teaching…kids might actually start seeing us (their teachers)  as superheroes instead of evil villains. They might see us as fun rather than fun-suckers!

So, go out there and find a superhero costume or two. Leave it in your classroom. Wear it occasionally…the kids won’t recognize you behind that goofy mask and shiny lame’. But best of all, they might just have some fun while learning something important.

Mary…the Phat/Fat Teacher

You know, they aren’t calling it the Swine flu anymore; it’s now called H1N1…or, as my kids refer to it, “The Hini (high-nee) flu”. I figure that is probably the most accurate name!

Well, needless to say, I didn’t get the Hini flu, but I got something else from one of my little darlings: the worst cold imaginable. It started with a sneeze…not mine, a student’s. Those little germs marched up my arm, across my shoulder, up my neck and face, and into my nostrils. And, there, they set up camp. I’ve tried to cough them out, sneeze them out, blow them out, and they will NOT LEAVE! (Just like children who return home after college!)

Well, today, I went to school, anyway…feeling a bit like I was dying. Why? Because sometimes it is harder to write plans for a sub than it is to just be miserable for 8 hours. Ah, but you ask, “Weren’t you afraid you’d make your kids sick?” You know, I thought about that…but then I realized that the kids you want to be gone a day or two, have immune systems made of iron, and those who are chronic absentees…were already gone anyway. So, I figured it was pretty safe to spend the day at school.

Okay…so, now you know just how sick I am…except you don’t know what happens to me when I am on Sudafed and other cold medicines. So, let me share some of my past history with you. A couple years ago, I created a worksheet for my World History class. I made it quickly (for my sub)-on my deathbed, as I was certain I was dying.  Seriously…dying! I probably should have after what I did. The worksheet…which was supposed to be titled “The Roman Public Forum”…wasn’t! Across the top of the worksheet in all capital letters was “THE ROMAN PUBIC FORUM”. Obviously, in my medicated state, that was one important letter I left out! The kids didn’t know if they were supposed to be learning about Roman history or Roman Family Life.

Again, a couple of years ago, and again on cold medicine, I was talking to the kids in math class about Function Tables. A good topic, but not for someone who was probably overdosed on Sudafed. I missed the N in function…and the word took on a whole new meaning…FUC-TION! Again…MATH family education.

Last year, in the same stupor, we were doing an activity in which all the kids would answer a question that had been placed on their desk. Then, they would get up and move to another question, and so on and so forth. It was a great lesson to get them up and get them moving. Except, as I was trying to explain to them the order we would move, I said, (with the door wide open…and other classroom doors open) “Okay, now shit to the left.” I meant SHIFT to the left, but it was worth a few laughs…from all of the classrooms.

Cold medicine and teaching is just not a good combination. As I write this, I am on a heavy dose of meds…and I can feel the white lights and the floating feeling. It’s a good thing computers have a delete key, as I have been using it all night. I sometimes wish life had one. There are several moments out there that I wish I could have deleted…above is only three of those instances. DELETE! It’s my best friend.

So, here’s hoping you are not sick, not taking cold medicine, and can function a lot better than I can if you are. (Notice I remembered the N.) So, I am heading off to bed, as it’s the only place I feel completely safe on these meds. (I am a sissy. I cannot hold my cold medicine!)

Mary…the Phat/Fat teacher

So, here we  are with 19 days of school in. (Wow! It seems like I’ve gotten up at 5:00 a lot more days than that!) Of course, look at the bright side: we only have 154 more to go.

Anyway, in those 19 days, we have experienced a full moon, a serious drop in barometric pressure, and several “tech meetings” at the local pub…and every one of those makes the kids go crazy. The first two are for obvious reasons, but the last one just doesn’t seem to have a good reason. It’s a well known fact that the volume of their voices somehow seems to correlate with the intensity of your headache. (I unboxed a 500-count bottle of Advil and a 1000-count bottle of Tylenol, today. I also opened a 5,000,000-count bag of M&Ms. I should be good for the year!)

Anyway, at this point, even the new teachers have muddled through the honeymoon period and are headed directly into the fire. Therefore, they are now REAL TEACHERS. Even perky little Linette from workshop week has lost a bit of perk!  She’s getting wrinkles…and she’s earned every one of them! She’s a real teacher, now!

And so, that being said, the following is my take on what makes you a REAL TEACHER.

REAL TEACHERS…
1)     Wear clothing that repels fluids!
2)     Ingest mega doses of caffeine daily…pumped intravenously!
3)     Use school appropriate language…when in earshot of children.
4)     Eat an entire meal…and use the bathroom…in 13.7 minutes or less.
5)     Can tell there’s a full moon without ever looking outside.
6)     Understands the statement “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree!”
7)     Can fend off the attacks of angry parents without a club!
8)     Own stock in Advil, Tylenol, or Anheuser Busch.
9)     Shop at the “Lost and Found”.
10)   Play well with others!

So, congratulations! We’ve all made it through the first month of school. Just think, we only have another 8.5 to go! But if you take out prep time, vacation days, sick days, workshop days, and trips to the coffee shop…that only leaves about 8 months! That’s doable! Just make them good ones.

Mary…the Phat/Fat Teacher

Playing Monopoly the other day, I was thinking about the “Get Out Of Jail Free” card. What a great idea…not really the jail part, but the whole idea of a “Do Over!” Think about it…we’re human…we screw up! It’s plain and simple and it seems like there is never a do over once it happens. You have to find some way to “make up for it”, but you don’t get a do over. Why not? Okay, mistakes are huge, some are repeated mistakes in which the person doesn’t learn, and some are just too catastrophic to allow do overs. Those ones just have to stand as it…but what about those little mistakes?

Picture this, a student in your class absolutely screws up…well, we forgive them and move on…DO OVER! They leave the classroom without signing out…DO OVER! They call someone a name in a fit of frustration and anger…DO OVER!  DO OVER! DO OVER! DO OVER!

All of this has gotten me thinking about the other things students need. For example, if theydon’t make an assignment due date, maybe they should get a DUE OVER! card. That makes sense…a different due date. And maybe there are other things they should get as well.

At the beginning of the school year, I pack a survival kit for all of the students in my advisory. It includes snacks and notes and pencils and paper and all the other things they might need to make it through the first few days. But what about if that survival kit also included a deck of 52 cards…each labeled with some kind of message.

DO OVER cards & DUE OVER cards

And of course, what about including some of these cards:
GET OUT OF TROUBLE FREE
MY DUCT TAPE SLIPPED OFF MY MOUTH
THE SEAT BELT ON MY CHAIR BROKE
SOMETIMES, MY HANDS HAVE A MIND OF THEIR OWN
SORRY, THAT WORD JUST LAUNCHED ITSELF OUT OF MY MOUTH
OOPS! SORRY, I HAD BEANS FOR LUNCH
I WASN’T ROLLING MY EYES; I WAS JUST CHECKING TO SEE IF I COULD SEE MY BRAIN
IT’S NOT THAT I DON’T WANT TO LISTEN; MY EARS ARE JUST ON VACATION, TODAY!

I am sure you could think of a million more that I have not addressed. Your challenge, send them to me…and I will add them to my list when I get a bunch more. This could be rather fun!

Thank you to all of you who are writing comments. I haven’t let all of the comments through, some are more personal, or are issue related, but they are still very important.

Mary…the Phat/Fat Teacher

Okay, the week is over…and I can breathe for the first time in nearly five days. I came home, tonight, with about 30 minutes worth of school work instead of my usual 5 hours. This will be the most “time-off” that I have had in almost four weeks. I am not complaining…oh, hell, yes, I am! Can you say stress?

Alright…onward and upward.

The beginning of the school year is always filled with a whirlwind of meetings for kids who are ELL (English Language Learner), ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), EBD (Emotionally Behaviorally Disorder), TAG (Talented and Gifted),  OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), DHH (Deaf/Hard of Hearing), ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder), and DAPE (Developmental Adaptive Physical Education), and of course, OHI (Other Health Impaired) for all students who have something wrong with them, buuuuuuuuuut…you just don’t know what that might be. (NOTE: As a teacher, I have labels, too. Sometimes they come from the kids, and sometimes they come from other people! Most aren’t really nice…and the letters spell bad words. )

A while back, I was talking to my son about all of the labels we put on kids. It seems that if a kid looks at you wrong, they are tested for Special Education or EBD and placed on an IEP (Individualized Educational Plan). And…if they can fart and chew gum at the same time, they’re labeled gifted. My classes are gradually emerging as “half gifted”, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, as we were talking about the fact that kids have all of these labels…a complete combinations of all of the letters of the alphabet…and even some new ones letters that haven’t even been invented yet, I mentioned that many of my kids this year are labeled LD (Learning Disabled). 

He thought for a moment and then spouted off information about labels. “Well, you know, Mom, when I was in school, most kids were either labeled one of two things: LD or DL. I was puzzled; DL was something I had never heard of, and since he is an IT (Information Technology) Guy, I figured he might have just gotten the letters wrong. So, I lorded over him my “teacher intelligence”. “Yeah, well, son, there are a lot of labels in teaching, but DL isn’t one of them.” I grinned to think that for the first time in many years, I was “smarter” than him. He smiled and said, “Ahhhh, but that’s where you’re wrong. See, your kids, as you have described them, are either LD or DL: Learning Disabled or Dang Lazy!”

And so, it seems we now have a new label to attach to kids who seem to show little or not effort in the educational arena. DL…Dang Lazy! And just for the record, my label back then would have been DL, too!

I challenge you to the assignment of a lifetime. Find a child in your classroom who is DL, and find a way to help them overcome their disability.

Mary…the Phat/Fat Teacher

Friday was one of those days, at the end of the first week of school, when you wonder if the day will every be over. The kids were great, but the day drug on longer than usual…until my students made me laugh the hardest I have laughed in a very long time. It made me realize just how much I miss them during the summer months.

Anyway, during Comm Arts, the conversation was centered on things you can do to increase your learning. I was telling the students that crossing the center of your body (the mid-line), helps get both sides of your brain working together. We played a quick game of DO THIS! DO THAT!so I could show them an entertaining and fun way to cross their mid-line…and so I could get them up and moving!

Once we settled back in, I asked them when they feel the most tired in class. They told me it was when they had to just sit and listen for long periods of time. I said, “Of course! By sitting, the oxygen disperses itself to the part of your body that is doing the most work. Therefore, that would be you backside!” Most kids laughed, but there was one child in the front row who instantly had his hand flying back and forth in the air, grunting and oohing like Arnold Horshack from Welcome Back, Kotter. When I called on him, he wasted no time telling the rest of the class what he had figured out. “Mrs. P! Mrs. P! No wonder when I sit for a long time, I have to fart really bad!” Laughter erupted from every corner of the room, and just when it began to die out, it started again! Finally, one of my other little darlings said, “Well, I don’t know if that’s true or not, but sitting could be dangerous!”  I giggled with the rest of the kids, then let myself go down the slippery slope of asking him to explain. This was not a good idea, because  the conversation continued with the same 6th grade flavor as it had started. “Well, sometimes that oxygen that pools there is just gas, but other times, it could be a solid!” I had tears running down my face. Where do 6th graders come from, anyway?

Well, here’s a word of advice from someone who has been there: DO NOT allow kids to sit too long. You never know what they could be passing!

 Mary, the Phat/Fat Teacher