(This is part of the Slice of Life project at Two Writing Teachers)

It was rush-time, the end of the hectic day with the closing bell just lingering in the air and desks slamming shut, when I turned around and almost bumped right smack into one my of students. It was the same student whom I talked to yesterday and again this morning about staying organized and on task and all that.  The same student I worry about when he goes off to a charter school next year. The student who needs so much structure and guidance, it worries me to no end and sometimes drives me nutty.

He held his hands up towards me. They were cupped together with something in it, held gently.

“Mr. H, here is a muffin for you,” he said, smiling.

“A …  muffin?” I was keeping an eye on the crowd near the door, and listening for announcements. I tried to shut all that out and concentrate on the moment. It wasn’t easy, given the commotion around me. But I did.

“I had it as an extra for snack and I wanted to give to someone. I want you to have it.”

“Oh,” I said, “thanks,” and took the twisted plastic baggie from his hand that held a small, corn muffin. I held it up to look at it but really, I was looking at him.

“I want to give it to a great teacher and that’s you,” and he smiled again with a light in his eye. “You’re a great teacher.”

I swear, I could have hugged him right then and there. I almost did. Instead, I smiled back at him and looked at the muffin, and patted his shoulder. “Thank you, xxx, I appreciate that. Thank you for the muffin.”

And then, the kids were out the door in a flash and I was left there, in a quiet classroom, looking at this silent muffin, just wondering about the magic that can sometimes unfold at the strangest of times.

Peace (in the hustle-bustle),

Kevin

(This is part of the Slice of Life project at Two Writing Teachers)

There’s a teacher at my school whom I respect greatly for her love of children and her teaching ability and style (I want to be like her when I grown up), but she often reminds us that, “I refuse to do more work than the student,” which is something she doesn’t quite mean (she does plenty for her students) but which hits at the issue of student responsibility. Yes, I — the teacher — have an obligation to help them learn, but they — the students  — too, have an obligation to learn and grow, too.  One rarely succeeds without the other.

I was reminded of this yesterday when the majority of one of my classes of sixth graders had failed to do a very  simple homework assignment given five days ago, even after having time to work on it in class on the day it was assigned so that I and my student teacher (who actually assigned it) could help them as needed. This followed on the heels of some other work not being turned in by much of the same class when I was away on Friday. Now, this class has a number of students with documented organizational issues, but this was just too much for me to let slide.

I know I have a cold and my head is tired, but I sort of lost it for a bit in class and took them all to task, hard, for not striving for the highest bar instead of the lowest, which some of them seem to be doing already (and spring isn’t even here yet!). I reminded them that parent-teacher conferences are next week, and that our report/progress reports are going on soon, too, but that most of all, they were disappointing me and letting themselves down  with their passive work ethic. I expect more of them, for heaven’s sake,

I don’t know if it got through.Their heads hung low and they were listening, but I don’t really know if my words got through.

In another class, I had to pull a student outside in the hallway and give a similar lecture, one-on-one. It has been a continuous string of excuses for not doing any work and I had had it (he didn’t realize that I had gone through this earlier with an entire class, poor kid). He nodded, and gestured a good game, but we’ll see if he follows through. Then, at the end of the day, after checking all of their planners, I reminded my students of a few things they should have already had packed in their backpacks and I was amazed at how many scrambled back to their desks. They would have come into school tomorrow, empty of the assignments but full of excuses about why they couldn’t do the work because they left stuff at school (and watch, there will be one or two who will have zoned me out and watched the classmates get their things and not have figured out that they, too, were missing something. I just know it. Or is my mood affecting me?)

Honestly, I felt like a frustrated babysitter more than a teacher, yesterday, and I am hopeful to see some changes in the days ahead, otherwise, we are all in for a rough patch of “Mr H. Turns on the Heat.” That’s never pretty to be part of, even for me.

Peace (in the my class, please),
Kevin

(This is part of the Slice of Life project at Two Writing Teachers)

You know the saying about the simple things in life being the ones that we most appreciate?

Well, I spent the long weekend in a sunny place with an awful cold that had my nosing running as it were on a marathon. Just perfect for that weekend getaway, right? So, I needed to have tissues with me everywhere I went,and each time, I walked out our hotel door, I would stuff a handful into my pockets and then distribute the “used” ones in trash cans all over the Tampa/St. Pete area.

Let me say, the tissues in hotels must have glass fibers in them.  Or maybe these were the rejects from the sandpaper plant? My nose felt so raw by Sunday that I often had to second-guess myself on whether it was time to use a tissue or not.  And I sort of forgot that not all tissues are created equal.

So, arriving home yesterday, I grabbed a tissue from our box on the counter (after hugging our boys, of course) and it was like a bit of heaven right there on my face.  The softness was a grandeur I may never know again. I would have gladly have been in the most awful commercial right then and there, and been the most jubilant face in the mix. It felt nice.

It’s the simple things …

Peace (in the blowing),
Kevin

(This is part of the Slice of Life project at Two Writing Teachers)

This is my third day of posting an imaginary Slice of Life, since I am nowhere to be found. In fact, I think my blog is starting to write itself.

I have. And I have to say, the slices that this man writes about are just ridiculous. I mean, who writes about the tiny moments of life? I did agree to take some time the last few days and post this fool Kevin’s links over at Two Writing Teachers blog, which is such a nice blog to hang out with. But really, the Net is for big things, bigger than these words even, and we Blogs are on the verge of taking things over. I mean, have you read the spam I am getting? Those people just love me.  One spammer even asked if I needed help writing my research paper.  Of course, not, sir. I have all the research at my command that I need. Another spammer showers my blog with praise, but I can see that that email address is suspicious and I hear the other Blogs talking about him in the back-channels. (Yes, we blogs back-channel, too).  No sir, you, I do not post.  But I do glow brightly in your praise. Now I suppose this fool Kevin will be returning to his regular writing tomorrow, but for today, I — The Meandering Mind, itself — intend to take full advantage of my time here and make some hyperlinks. Oh, yes, I am going to meander …

Peace (in my mind),
Kevin and his blog, don’t forget the blog

(This is part of the Slice of Life project at Two Writing Teachers)

So, here I am, writing my second imaginary Slice of Life while away on a long weekend. I imagine that there are some funny comments in my blog bin about my imaginary slice from yesterday. So, even though this is being written a few days ago before anyone read a thing, I want to answer a few of your questions that are no doubt sitting in there:

• What does your imaginary voice sound like? Good question. It sounds a bit like Elmo, but a cool Elmo. He’s actually kind of hip, making the high-pitched sound reasonable to live with. For now. But when Elmo hits his teen years, watch out, man.
• Do you ever write when you dream? Funny you should ask that. I do. The problem is that the pen I use is always hard to find in the night, so my words get all jumbled up on me.
• How did you write this days ago but only post it today? I used a courier pigeon to bring my notes to a telephone pole, where a squirrel dashed off my notes to a crow, who tied it to a hot air balloon, which used GPS to bring my words to the little Internet fellow who writes all of my blog posts for me. It was easy, trust me.
• Do you think this imaginary slicing has some people scratching their heads right now? Not at all. I know the Slice people. They are quite nice. And they are all missing their heads, so really … nothing to scratch, you know? In fact, they are all heart and soul. Heart and soul.

Peace (in my mind),
Kevin

(This is part of the Slice of Life project at Two Writing Teachers)

I am away this whole weekend on a short but sunny vacation with my wife and I won’ t likely be near a computer, so I am working on posting a few imaginary Slices of Life. What? That’s not legal? Well, here I am, on the beach in Florida with my wife, probably walking along the water and just enjoying time together while my blog automatically posts this piece. So, my slice is this: I am not right now thinking of the world beyond the sound of the ocean, the smell of the water and touch of her hand. Promise. It’s a peaceful slice of life here, away from the world.

Peace (in my mind),
Kevin

(This is part of the Slice of Life project at Two Writing Teachers)

This is a rant as much as  a slice, but there I was, working with my students on Interjections and Conjunctions and trying to make it as exciting as I could (such as, encouraging them to use that word “Thunderation!”  or maybe “Gadzooks!” from our worksheet when they are in math class and see how Mr. M reacts). But every year, I have the same thought: This unit that dissects words in a sentence does not do one iota of good in helping my students grow as writers.

Am I right or wrong on this?

Still, it is in our curriculum and it is even its own item on our new standards-based report cards. So, Parts of Speech it is. But to say my heart is in it as we move into Adverbs and Pronouns and then Prepositions …. that would be a stretch. I’ll make it as fun as I can but in the end, they are going to be staring at sentences and picking them apart like vultures on a dead body, but at least the vultures get some nourishment.

I’m not sure what my students get out of it.

Peace (in the parts),
Kevin