32 Third Graders and One Class Bunny Page 3
“I’m never going to be a teacher,” said Justin.
I laughed.
“And,” I continued, “seniors must also pass the following classes: Glaring at Children Who Play with Velcro during Story-time, advanced Juice Box Opening, and How to Make Boys Finish Writing in Their Journals When They Would Rather Talk.”
“Mr. Done!” screamed Brian.
“You’re fooling us,” said Justin.
I laughed. “OK, you two, that’s enough. Now get back to work.”
Brian smirked. “When did you learn to say that?”
“Day one.” I winked. “And I was the best in the class.”
You Can Always Expect
The following are things you can always expect from kids.
They will always grab the shortest pencil in the pencil box because it is more fun to write with a pencil that is one inch long. But they will always pick the largest pair of scissors from the scissor box because it is more fun to cut with the big scissors.
· · ·
If you pass out three Cheerios to each child, but one Cheerio is stuck to another Cheerio so that one child accidentally gets four Cheerios, the child sitting next to the kid who got four Cheerios will scream, “That’s not fair!”
· · ·
If it is the teacher’s birthday, they will guess that you are older than you are. They will guess that you are a hundred.
· · ·
When you hand out yardsticks, two boys will begin to sword fight. When they bring you the yardstick in two pieces, one will say, “It just broke.”
· · ·
When they are sitting in front of the overhead projector and you are tracing their silhouettes with white crayon onto black construction paper for Mother’s Day gifts and tell them to sit perfectly still, they will move.
· · ·
When the prince kisses Snow White, someone will say, “Yuck!” When the prince kisses Cinderella, someone will say, “Yuck!” When it is time for division, they will say, “Yuck,” too.
· · ·
When they are coloring in class, someone will start to hum. While riding in the bus on a field trip, someone will start to sing.
· · ·
When you point to a paper on the floor and ask, “Whose is this?” no one will answer. When you say, “Pick this up,” they will say, “It’s not mine.”
· · ·
When they sit on the carpet to hear a story, they will play with their shoelaces and stare at their fingernails as if they have never seen shoelaces and fingernails before.
· · ·
When you read the story, they will dig for staples in the carpet. When they find a staple, they will hand it to you as if you’ve been searching for it. When you show everyone the picture in the book, someone will say, “I can’t see.”
· · ·
In the middle of a spelling test, someone will ask, “How many words are there?” After you tell them how many words there are, someone will ask, “How many words are there?”
· · ·
Right before they jump off the jungle gym, they will shout, “Look!” When they are hanging upside down on the monkey bars, they will wave and call your name.
· · ·
If they eat a red hot candy, they will stick out their tongue and ask you if their tongue is red. When you give them orange slices, they will put the whole slice in their mouth and smile really big so you can see their new orange teeth.
· · ·
If there is a beanbag chair in the room, someone will dive on it. If there is a beanbag chair in the room tomorrow, he will jump on it again.
· · ·
When you make green and red paper chains in December, and each child only gets ten strips of paper, they will connect all their chains to make the longest chain ever made.
· · ·
When you say, “I have eyes behind my head,” they will ask you to tell them what is behind you. When you say, “Give me one second,” they will count to one.
· · ·
If there’s a swing, they will stand on it. If there’s a slide, they will run up it. If there’s a fence, they will kick the ball over it.
· · ·
When there is an exit sign on the ceiling in the hall, they will jump up to hit it.
· · ·
If the windows are foggy, they will trace their names on them. If your car is dirty, they will write “Clean Me!” on the back window.
· · ·
When you tell them to go look up a word in a dictionary, they will come back and tell you that the word is not there.
· · ·
If you walk toward them with mistletoe, they will run. When they make valentines, they will sign them “From.” When they eat their hollow chocolate Easter bunnies, they will always bite the ears off first.
· · ·
They will always leave the last e out of sincerely and the d out of Wednesday. They will spell sure with an h, and the second letter in improve will be an n.
· · ·
When you give them a measuring tape, they will pull it out all the way so that it won’t go back in again. When they lean against the broom closet so you can measure their heights, they will stand on tiptoe.
· · ·
When you drive behind the school bus on the way home, they will wave to you and make faces. If you wave and make faces too, they will laugh and keep waving and making faces as long as you drive behind the bus.
· · ·
When you get to school the next morning, they will run up to you and say they saw you driving behind the school bus yesterday as if you didn’t know it was you behind them.
· · ·
They will say “cinnamon” when it says “synonym.” They will write as small as they can, and when you say, “It’s too small. I can’t read it,” they will read it out loud to you.
· · ·
If you act out Peter and the Wolf, all the boys will want to be Peter. If you act out Hansel and Gretel, all the girls will want to be Gretel. If you act out Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, the whole class will want to be Dopey.
· · ·
If there is both an electric pencil sharpener and a manual one in the room, they will always choose the electric sharpener, then grind the pencil down so far that they have to sharpen another one.
· · ·
On the last day of school, one of the kids will cry. On the last day of school, so will I.
Teacher Moments
There are certain moments in teaching that I call Teacher Moments. These are the special moments that make it all worthwhile. They are golden. They are few. They come unannounced. And you have to listen very closely, or you might miss them.
When Cameron pulled his mother into the classroom after school, picked up The Cat in the Hat, and shouted, “Look, Mom, I can read!”—that was a Teacher Moment.
When I closed Treasure Island, and they all screamed, “Don’t stop!”—that was a Teacher Moment too.
When Jack, whom I had suspended three times during the year, would not let go of me on the last day of school, that was a Teacher Moment.
When Sofia, who a year before could not speak one word of English, stood in front of the whole school and recited “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”; when I received a letter from Victor saying that he is in college now and wants to be a teacher just like me; and when James asked me if Charlotte’s Web is a true story—those were all Teacher Moments.
Unfortunately, when the moments come, I usually don’t have a pencil handy, or I say I’ll write it down later but forget, or I simply wasn’t listening closely enough that day and missed the moment completely.
But one day, not too long ago, I didn’t miss it. I was sitting with my students in the corner of the classroom.
“Boys and girls,” I said, “do you know what the person is called who writes a book?”
“An author,” said Emily.
“That’s right, Emily. And does anyone kn
ow what the person is called who puts the whole book together?”
“A book maker?” Peter answered.
“That’s close, Peter. A person who makes books is also called a publisher.”
I held up Happiness Is by Charles Schulz.
“See this book,” I said. “It is made, or printed, by a publisher. Charles Schulz wrote the book and illustrated it. Then he sent it to a publisher. The publisher is the one who puts it all together into an actual book.”
I continued, “But you cannot always find any book you want in a bookstore. Sometimes the publisher stops printing the book. Then we say that the book is not in print anymore.”
Andrew raised his hand.
“Yes, Andrew?” I asked.
He had a worried look on his face.
“But, Mr. Done,” he asked, “can you get it in cursive?”
That one I remembered to write down.
The Laminating Machine
I used to laminate everything, absolutely everything—posters, prints, bookmarks, birthday certificates, awards, library passes, name tags, file folders, book jackets, real estate calendars. You name it, I laminated it. They called me the laminating king.
It got pretty bad. Once Cathy sent me a note with a question. Attached was a sticky note. It said, “Please just answer question. Do not laminate.”
But now I won’t go near the machine. Not even close.
You see, one night I was in the staff room laminating my kids’ art for Back to School Night. It was late.
Now, you know what a laminating machine looks like of course. It’s about three feet wide and sits on a table. It has two big rolls of plastic. You put whatever it is you want to laminate in on one side. The paper rolls through the two big rolls of laminating plastic. The plastic is hot and adheres to the paper. And your paper comes out on the other side all nicely laminated. It’s great.
So there I was, carefully guiding each piece of artwork into the laminator, humming along, when all of a sudden, I felt this tug! I looked down. My tie was caught in the machine!
Immediately, I pulled back, but the tie was stuck. I tugged again. Still nothing. I jerked a third time. No luck. Meanwhile, I was still rolling into the machine. Oh my God, I thought. I am going to die!
I could see the headlines: “Teacher Flattened in Laminating Machine,” “Teacher Suffocates to Death in Hot Plastic,” “Teacher Becomes Art Project,” “J. C. Penney Recalls One Million Ties.”
I slammed off the switch.
I kept rolling.
“Crap!” I screamed.
It was the heat button.
I pushed another button.
I started rolling faster.
“Nooooo!” I yelled.
I reached under the table and fumbled for the cord. I found it.
Thank God!
I yanked it as hard as I could.
Suddenly everything stopped.
I sighed, closed my eyes, and rested my chin on the edge of the table. I didn’t move for about ten seconds. My head was about five inches away from the roller.
Finally I lifted my head and looked around the room.
How the hell am I going to get out of this thing? I thought to myself. I couldn’t undo my tie. The skinny part in the back had gone through too.
Then I spotted some scissors on the counter. I tried to reach them but they were too far away.
Damn! What was I going to do?
“Helloooooo,” I said softly. “Hellooooo.”
Nobody answered.
Oh my God, I thought. If I don’t get out of here, the other teachers will find me here in the morning.
I yelled louder.
“Heeelp! Heeeeelp!” I screamed.
Finally, after about ten minutes of my screaming at the top of my lungs, Marion walked into the room. She covered her mouth.
“Don’t laugh,” I said. “Get me out of this thing!”
“How did you … ?” she asked.
“Never mind! Just get me out of this,” I said. “Grab those scissors over there and cut the tie.”
“Cut it?”
“Cut it!” I screamed.
“But it’s a nice tie,” she said.
“I don’t care about the stupid tie,” I yelled. “Just get me out of here! And stop laughing! It’s not funny.”
Marion cut the tie and I was saved. That night I made her swear to not tell a soul. But Marion is not good at keeping secrets. For weeks afterward, strangers would pass me in the supermarket, at the gas station—everywhere—point to my tie, and start cracking up.
I called my dad and told him the whole story. He couldn’t stop laughing either. Until I told him it was his tie.
Back to School Night
The day before Back to School Night, Kim and I were decorating the cafeteria. Each teacher had to put up something their students had made. My kids drew self-portraits but Katie insisted on drawing a bear. So, I teach thirty-one kids and one koala. Kim’s first graders wrote sentences about what their parents do while they are at school.
Austin wrote, “When I’m at school, my mommy drops my sister off then goes home and watches TV.”
Carlota wrote, “When I’m at school, my daddy goes somewhere, but I don’t know where.”
Debbie wrote, “When I’m at school, my mom goes to the supermarket and buys Pepsi Light.”
And Lambert wrote, “When I’m at school, my dad builds tables.” (Lambert’s dad works in a bank.)
As Kim and I hung up the kids’ work, I thought back to my very first Back to School Night. I remember when I walked into my classroom that first September and announced, “Boys and girls, today we will not be doing math.”
Everyone cheered.
“Try not to be too upset,” I said.
“Why aren’t we doing math today?” Samantha asked.
“Because we are going to do art all day long, that’s why,” I answered. “Back to School Night is tonight and look at those bulletin boards.”
“What bulletin boards?” asked Richard.
“Just my point,” I said. “Now here’s some paper. Everyone draw pictures of yourselves. And draw them really big because I have to fill up all those boards.”
After an hour, the bell rang for recess. The kids went outside. I ran into the principal in the hall.
“Hey, Frank, how long am I supposed to talk to my parents tonight?” I asked.
“One hour,” he replied.
“What!” I screamed. “I can’t talk for an hour! What am I going to talk about for an hour?”
“Oh, you’ll do fine. Just make a plan,” he said. And he walked away.
A plan? Yes, a plan. That was a good idea.
So I began to make a plan: First I’ll greet them (that will take five seconds). Then I’ll welcome them all (five more seconds). Then I’ll introduce myself (ten seconds). Great, I thought. I have filled twenty seconds.
I was in trouble.
I went to see Mike. Mike had been teaching for years. Surely he’d have some good ideas.
“Hi, Mike,” I said. “What are you doing for Back to School Night?”
“Oh, we’re playing a game,” he said.
“A game?” I screamed. “What sort of game?”
“Oh, one where the parents have to mix and mingle and find out information about each other,” he explained. “It’s a good ice-breaker.”
“I don’t have time to break any ice!” I shouted. “My kids are doing art!”
I left Mike and went to Lisa’s room.
“Hi, Lisa. What are you doing for Back to School Night?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m doing a slide show.” She smiled.
“A slide show?” I yelled.
“Yep. I love doing a slide show. I just show the slides and talk. That way I don’t have to look at the parents. And they don’t look at me because they’re looking at the slides.”
“Great idea!” I said. “I’ll do a slide show too. What kind of slides do you show?” I asked.
“Well,” she explained, “I took pictures over the last two weeks of all the kids doing different activities and had them made into slides.”
“Can I use them?” I asked.
“They’re of my kids,” Lisa said.
I grinned. “Do you think the parents would notice?”
“Out!” she screamed, pointing to the door.
I went to see Marion. She was greasing a cookie sheet.
“Hi, Marion. I need some ideas for Back to School Night. What are you doing for tonight?” I asked.
I looked at the cookie sheet and began shaking my head.
“Don’t tell me,” I said slowly.
“What?” she asked.
“You’re not,” I cried.
“Not what?” she asked.
“Tell me you’re not making cookies,” I whined.
She nodded. “We’re making them after lunch, and then we’re decorating them. And they wrote their own cookie poems. Want to see them?”
“No! I do not want to see their cookie poems!” I screamed. “I don’t have time to decorate cookies and write cookie poems!”
“Don’t worry,” Marion said. “I’m sure whatever you do will be wonderful.”
The bell rang. I walked back to my room. On my way, I ran into Frank again.
“Oh, Phil,” he said, “don’t forget. Tonight you also need to tell your parents about your goals and expectations for the year.”
“Goals? What goals?”
“Your goals for the year.”
“Goals for the year?” I screamed. “My goal is to get through tonight!”
I walked into my classroom and opened the closet.
“Why are you pulling out Monopoly?” Samantha asked.
“I thought it would be a good icebreaker.”
Frank popped his head in.
“Hey, I’m going to the store after school. Can I get you anything?” he asked.
“Yeah, can you pick me up a couple of bags of Oreos? I thought I should serve some cookies. No, wait! Get Fig Newtons. They take longer to chew.”
“No problem,” he said. “Fig Newtons comin’ right up.”