I know what's wrong with this country...

This blog was never intended to be anything serious or informative. It began as a way to chronicle the funny things that happen to me, and it will soon return to the original purpose. As for this particular post, I feel compelled to express my feelings about a news story I heard this morning while I was getting dressed for the day.

Welfare in California

The link above will take you to the Huffington Post's basic version of the story I heard on Headline News. It's the same story that inspired me to write this little [uncensored] ditty...

There's No Such Thing as a Free Lunch

by: Married-White-Fiscally Conservative-Middle Class-College Educated-Woman

'Twas the season of giving, and across our great nation,

people geared up for shopping and taking vacation.

Their purses were hung by the coupons with care,

in hopes that their subsidies soon would be there.

On food stamps! On health care, unemployment, and WIC!

Your penchant for mooching...it makes me so sick!

Work for your money! Have some pride, use your head!

Get rid of your iPhone, your account's in the red.

Your plasma TV - is that something you need?

Take care of your family, but, PLEASE, ditch the greed.

Give back to the world your treasure and time,

and stop having kids on Uncle Sam's dime.

We've made it too easy, we're partly to blame,

but don't boast of your windfall, have you no shame?

Let's tighten the guidelines, take back the reins.

Our deficit's growing; put an end to these games.

No one should starve for being down on their luck,

but government assistance for all? Holy S***! What the F***?

A Lesson They'll Never Forget

As I taught one of my Math classes about right triangles and the Pythagorean Theorem, I had a surprising number of students ask me about how to determine which side of the triangle was the hypotenuse. Thinking it a rather easy concept, I chose to draw a simple diagram to illustrate and reiterate that the hypotenuse of a triangle is the largest side of a right triangle and is located opposite the right angle.

I must have been having an off day because I looked out into the crowd and still saw some confused looks. In my heart I know that it probably isn’t the greatest teaching technique to simply repeat concepts louder and slower, but it is definitely tempting at times like these…

Instead, I chose to “think on my feet” about a way to say it differently. I turned the triangle so that it was resting on the hypotenuse and labeled the legs. I gave the triangle a stick figure body coming up from the legs and explained that the hypotenuse is the distance between the guy’s feet.

Just as I thought we could finally move on to bigger and better concepts, one student in the back of the room raises his hand.

“What does the right angle symbol represent?”

Without missing a beat, another student answers.

“His loincloth.”

Aaaaaaand, we’re done.

I can say with absolute certainty that these students will not soon forget how to identify a hypotenuse.

The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men...

My students are required to memorize and recite one poem each month and have been doing it since third grade. We have struggled lately with students complaining that giving them the poem only 2 weeks in advance does not leave enough time for them to learn the poems. Over lunch one day, my colleagues and I were sharing our frustration about this issue. We decided that a very teachable moment had just appeared for us. We all agreed to go back into our classrooms after lunch and give each student a notecard. The students would be instructed to write their assigned poem, author, and any lines they had memorized. Despite having the poem for nearly a week, we expected that few students would even know the title and author. Of course, this would give us the opportunity to prove that giving them more time for the poems would not be beneficial because they don't use the time we give them.

Here’s the poem they were to memorize:

Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906)

Sympathy

I KNOW what the caged bird feels, alas! 


When the sun is bright on the upland slopes; 


When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass, 


And the river flows like a stream of glass; 


When the first bird sings and the first bud opes, 


And the faint perfume from its chalice steals — 


I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing 


Till its blood is red on the cruel bars; 


For he must fly back to his perch and cling 


When he fain would be on the bough a-swing; 


And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars 


And they pulse again with a keener sting — 


I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, 


When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,— 


When he beats his bars and he would be free; 


It is not a carol of joy or glee, 


But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core, 


But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings — 


I know why the caged bird sings!

It would be untruthful to say that I didn’t get at least some pleasure from seeing the panicked faces of my students as they tried to complete this assignment. I knew that my subsequent lesson about time management would hold new significance to them. As I collected the finished notecards, I had a sense of satisfaction in seeing that the majority of my students knew at least the title of the poem. I stood at the front of the room, flipping through the notecards and congratulating students on knowing various parts of the poem. I was surprised to see one notecard with more writing on it than the others. Turning to the student who had written it, I asked if he had just put a random poem on his card.

“Uhhh. Sort of. I didn’t know the poem so I just made one up. I figured something was better than nothing.”

I read the card aloud to the class.

Midnight Dreams

by: Langston Hughes

I like to dream happily,
about a horse and a rabbit.
Who once met,
and made a bet,
that if you lose,
you’ll pay a toll.

With tears streaming down my face and a class overcome with laughter, I decided that today was not the best day for a lesson on time management.

Henry Overcomes a Fear!

I’ve often read that pet owners pass on their neuroses to their pets. While there is no direct correlation between the specific human behavior and the pet’s manifestation, the research suggests that neurotic pets have neurotic owners. If you judge an owner by her pet, I’m in serious trouble.

Henry, now nearly 3 years old, has always been….special. We’ve guessed from an early age that his quirks would classify him somewhere on the Autism spectrum. I blame some of Henry’s behaviors on a massive concussion he sustained during a rather raucous game of Wii bowling when he was a puppy. Andy.

He is a great dog – smart, sweet, cuddly, playful, fun-loving…he just has some strange habits.

Our great friend, Special K, spent the summer with Henry while we were at camp. She reported that he was generally good, but he did demonstrate at least one behavior that puzzled her. Each morning when Spesh got out of bed, Henry would bark at her and run in circles around the house. This was no ordinary bark; it was as if she were an intruder. It didn’t matter that Henry had slept in the same room with her all night - there was something about the morning that was disturbing to him. She admits that she does not look her prettiest in the morning, but that’s no reason for Henry to not even recognize her. The only way to get Henry to stop barking at her was for Spesh to get in the shower and get ready for the day. Apparently, Henry has a visceral fear of bedhead.

Henry made great progress toward overcoming one of his fears this weekend. Since we got Henry, he had never ventured down into the basement – the great unknown. We first noticed his fear when he was a puppy. Our laundry room is in the basement, and we have to go down there at least once each day for something. As a young puppy, Henry would see us going down the stairs to the basement and immediately run up the stairs that go to the second floor of the house. It was as if he expected us to emerge at the same place. It took him nearly a year to figure out that there must be 2 sets of stairs in the house, but he never crossed the threshold to the basement. It never bothered me that Henry wouldn’t go down to the basement until last weekend. Andy and I needed to spend most of last weekend in the basement painting and making it look more spacious for our potential buyers. We had to make trips up the stairs all day to bring up Goodwill donations or get tools from the garage. Each time, Henry was patiently waiting for us at the top of the stairs. He seemed sad and curious about what was happening, but it never occurred to him that he could just walk down the stairs to find out what we were doing. Even though the basement is finished now, I decided that it was time to help Henry overcome his fear.

Henry put up a good fight when I forced him down the stairs. It was similar to the fight he gives when he has to get in the shower – all muscle and paw dragging at first, but then he breaks and looks pathetically resigned to his fate. (Oddly enough, I get a similar reaction from Andy when I make him do his chores…) Once in the basement Henry was extremely uncomfortable. He sniffed around and seemed surprised that there was so much more house to explore, but he wouldn’t settle in his new surroundings. He paced nervously back and forth in front of the stairs, unable to will himself to go back up. I decided that Henry didn’t need this torture and would not be forced to go down to the basement again.

The breakthrough happened on Saturday. Andy was watching basketball in the man cave, and I went down there to talk to him. A minute later Henry emerged from the basement stairway. There was much praise and celebration.

For now, I’ll celebrate the little victories. My dog has one less irrational fear.

A Day in the Life...

One of the many(?) benefits to being a teacher is interacting with young, impressionable minds on a daily basis. More often than I’d like to admit, my days are filled with moments reminiscent of those on Bill Cosby’s “Kids Say the Darndest Things.” One such encounter occurred today, and I think it will stay with me for a long time.

My 6^th graders are in the process of completing a major research project on countries. This is their first real introduction to notecards, research, bibliographies, and research writing – all things they will learn to hate in the next several years. We recently began working on outlines for their multi-paragraph essays. In order to avoid getting the standard “Step-Up to Writing” introduction paragraph including “[Insert Country] is a fascinating country…” or “There are many interesting things about [Insert Country]…” we decided to tell our students that they were not permitted to infuse any opinions into the introduction paragraph. This directive seemed insurmountable to many students.

One of my students who likes to get his work done quickly found this challenge to be particularly infuriating. He came up to my desk and asked me to check what he had written.

“Canada is a great place to live.”

I stopped there. I spent a few minutes convincing him that his statement was an opinion. Exasperated, he returned to his desk to try again.

I was skeptical when he returned a few minutes later with his second attempt.

“Canada’s rich history makes it one of the most important and interesting countries in the world.”

This time he was visibly defeated when I stopped reading after the first sentence. I explained, again, that he had definitely included his opinions in the opening sentence. Just for fun, I challenged him to find the notecard on which he had written that Canada was one of the most important countries in the world. He argued that it would be impossible to make his introduction paragraph interesting without adding his opinion. With a few words of encouragement, he returned to his seat to make another attempt.

I was surprised to see him back in line at my desk after only a few minutes. I knew he was excited about what he had written because he was impatiently doing the “I’ve got it!” dance while I helped other students.

Before he gave me the paper this time, he explained that he had found a way to grab attention at the beginning of the essay and had not used an opinion. Cautiously, I read his paper.

“Canada – it’s in North America!”

Funny on so many levels, this statement made my day.