Some days at school are normal. Some days are Scotch Days.
It's a scotch day when a student yells at his teacher across the room.
It's a scotch day when that student rips up all of his work and yells at the counselor.
It's a scotch day when the student makes a threat to kill the principal and the parent is called to pick him up.
It's a scotch day when the student barks at his parent when the parent arrives.
And it's a scotch day when the parent barks back.
Some days are scotch days,
Thursday, December 15, 2016
8:05
This morning, at 8:05, I walked into my assistant principal's office.
"Hey, you look busy. What's up?"
"Ugh. Bus referral. It's Angela again"
"Huh. What'd she do?"
"Started the wave on the bus and called her bus driver a bitch."
"Huh."
I walked out of her office.
It was 8:06.
Monday, May 23, 2016
Birdfaced
"Did I ever tell you the story about the kid who got bird-faced?"
That's how this conversation usually starts. In education, we have a lot of fancy terms that we throw around: Enrichment. Fidelity. Bird-faced.
It started outside at kindergarten recess this past week. The year is coming to an end, the weather is getting warmer, and tempers are getting shorter.
One of my "old friends", a cute little guy we will call Colin for anonymity's sake, had been repeatedly bothering a cute little red-headed girl in the same grade throughout the entire year. Apparently she had enough of the constant annoyances and decided to take matters into her own hands. Vigilante. Colin can definitely be a bit long in the tooth, so I didn't blame her for what happened next.
See, at recess, our red headed little friend found a dead bird. A long-dead, puss-filled, bloated, rotting, dead bird. It was dead. She then picked up the dead bird and called Colin over to come see it. She then took the dead bird and smashed it into Colin's face. Colin screamed. Teachers screamed. In the hoopla the red-head didn't even get into trouble because the staff were so concerned about bird-flu and various other diseases, they forgot to write her up.
"What do I tell his mom?" the principal asked the staff at recess as the nurse held Colin.
"Tell her that he got Birdfaced" someone piped up.
That's how this conversation usually starts. In education, we have a lot of fancy terms that we throw around: Enrichment. Fidelity. Bird-faced.
It started outside at kindergarten recess this past week. The year is coming to an end, the weather is getting warmer, and tempers are getting shorter.
One of my "old friends", a cute little guy we will call Colin for anonymity's sake, had been repeatedly bothering a cute little red-headed girl in the same grade throughout the entire year. Apparently she had enough of the constant annoyances and decided to take matters into her own hands. Vigilante. Colin can definitely be a bit long in the tooth, so I didn't blame her for what happened next.
See, at recess, our red headed little friend found a dead bird. A long-dead, puss-filled, bloated, rotting, dead bird. It was dead. She then picked up the dead bird and called Colin over to come see it. She then took the dead bird and smashed it into Colin's face. Colin screamed. Teachers screamed. In the hoopla the red-head didn't even get into trouble because the staff were so concerned about bird-flu and various other diseases, they forgot to write her up.
"What do I tell his mom?" the principal asked the staff at recess as the nurse held Colin.
"Tell her that he got Birdfaced" someone piped up.
Sunday, May 22, 2016
The Band
Near the end of the year, as state-wide standardized testing approaches, it is pertinent to put a on a small assembly for the older students to encourage the promotion of strong test-taking strategies.
By "pertinent", I mean that you have to do this and there is no way you are getting out.
By "small assembly", I mean a large encompassing multi-media presentation with fireworks and hoopla. If something blows up, even better.
This is something we deal with every year as we encourage our students to "do their best on the test". Not being the most creative, school spirit-y, kind of fellow, I don't usually enjoy this.
"I want a band" the 4th grade teacher in charge told me. "You can have a band if you want. I know some professional musicians. We can probably get them out here for $400 or $500" I told her in reply.
"You don't understand. I want a band. We don't have that kind of money just laying around. You play guitar don't you?"
"..Yea.. a little"
"Great. We have another 4th grade teacher that plays bass. The janitor can drum. We can find you a singer out of the 1st grade teachers".
"..ok..."
"Thank's, I appreciate you doing this"
And that's how I become the leader of The Band.
So, we practiced.. we practiced before school, after school, and even during school hours during breaks in between lunch shifts. We practiced for two months. One of us had a baby, practiced during maternity leave, and came back to sing. We learned a bunch of really hard pop songs to encourage the kids during the assembly, but we found that we had a penchant for playing "Sweet Home Alabama" at every practice. We would go through Bruno Mars and Taylor Swift, but that three chord 70's rock song came the most natural.
The day of The Band's concert came. 300 kids on the verge of the most important test of their academic careers. Lights. Smoke. Screaming. 4 teachers scared to death. A loaded gymnasium.
We rocked.
We played Sweet Home Alabama 3 times.
By "pertinent", I mean that you have to do this and there is no way you are getting out.
By "small assembly", I mean a large encompassing multi-media presentation with fireworks and hoopla. If something blows up, even better.
This is something we deal with every year as we encourage our students to "do their best on the test". Not being the most creative, school spirit-y, kind of fellow, I don't usually enjoy this.
"I want a band" the 4th grade teacher in charge told me. "You can have a band if you want. I know some professional musicians. We can probably get them out here for $400 or $500" I told her in reply.
"You don't understand. I want a band. We don't have that kind of money just laying around. You play guitar don't you?"
"..Yea.. a little"
"Great. We have another 4th grade teacher that plays bass. The janitor can drum. We can find you a singer out of the 1st grade teachers".
"..ok..."
"Thank's, I appreciate you doing this"
And that's how I become the leader of The Band.
So, we practiced.. we practiced before school, after school, and even during school hours during breaks in between lunch shifts. We practiced for two months. One of us had a baby, practiced during maternity leave, and came back to sing. We learned a bunch of really hard pop songs to encourage the kids during the assembly, but we found that we had a penchant for playing "Sweet Home Alabama" at every practice. We would go through Bruno Mars and Taylor Swift, but that three chord 70's rock song came the most natural.
The day of The Band's concert came. 300 kids on the verge of the most important test of their academic careers. Lights. Smoke. Screaming. 4 teachers scared to death. A loaded gymnasium.
We rocked.
We played Sweet Home Alabama 3 times.
Saturday, May 21, 2016
Cologne
Kid: "Mmm.. Your cologne smells great today"
Me: "That's not cologne, its my deodorant"
Kid: "You can really smell it"
Me: "That's because your nose is in my armpit."
Me: "That's not cologne, its my deodorant"
Kid: "You can really smell it"
Me: "That's because your nose is in my armpit."
Sunday, May 15, 2016
Forensics In Cold War Berlin
In an elementary school, conveying a message by note is everything. For some students it's akin to being in cold-war era East Berlin, where the only way to establish secure communique is by passing a hastily written note between the Berlin Wall. In this case, the Berlin Wall is the third grade teacher. And in this case, the communique' was intercepted. And brought to me.
"I hope the school bus runs over you"
That's what the message said.
Technically a threat as well as knowing no mother would really appreciate such remarks being said to her young child, I went to work. I turned on the lights in my office and the interrogations began. I questioned those nearby where the note was found. I asked for dates, times, names.. anything that would bring me closer to the answer. I worked my beat, I did the leg-work. I sought out snitches. Three flummoxing hours later, I had narrowed it down between three third grade boys. Thing is, I was out of tricks.
"Oh, that's easy"
That's what my principal said.
"Have each student write a friendly letter to someone and compare the handwriting to the one on the note".
It was too simplistic. It worked. Minutes later, following the completion of the three friendly letters, the culprit was found.
"How'd you find me?"
The young note-passer asked.
"Simple, my friend, Forensics."
"I hope the school bus runs over you"
That's what the message said.
Technically a threat as well as knowing no mother would really appreciate such remarks being said to her young child, I went to work. I turned on the lights in my office and the interrogations began. I questioned those nearby where the note was found. I asked for dates, times, names.. anything that would bring me closer to the answer. I worked my beat, I did the leg-work. I sought out snitches. Three flummoxing hours later, I had narrowed it down between three third grade boys. Thing is, I was out of tricks.
"Oh, that's easy"
That's what my principal said.
"Have each student write a friendly letter to someone and compare the handwriting to the one on the note".
It was too simplistic. It worked. Minutes later, following the completion of the three friendly letters, the culprit was found.
"How'd you find me?"
The young note-passer asked.
"Simple, my friend, Forensics."
Friday, April 1, 2016
Batmobile
There are times when the Batmobile is available. This piece of transportation is artistry in design, it is strong, safe, and armored.It's a hot-rod that must not be used lightly. It is the janitor's dolly.
When an emergency or trying event comes up that necessitates such drastic transportational matters, you can call Alfred (the school janitor), to pick you up in the Bat-Mobile (the janitor's dolly), and transport you at lightning speed (12 miles per hour), to Commissioner Gordon (the school principal). This must not be taken lightly. With great power, comes great responsibility.
Friday, March 25, 2016
Responsibility and the Library Book
It seems as though I am instilling the art and discipline of Responsibility day after day after day after day in these little angels.
"..was that very responsible of you to swing your backpack and hit Timothy in the face?"
".. probably not a very responsible choice to stand up on on the chair in front of your classroom and make those statements to the rest of second grade"
"..your clothes are all wet because you were sitting in the urinal. Doesn't sound very responsible to me".
This morning, during my rounds, I found a library book laying in the middle of the hallway. It was sitting there, like a poor defenseless victim, just waiting to be trampled on. Some miscreant had lost it haphazardly. My arms folded. It was time for a little chat about responsibility.
I took the book to the library, so that our librarian could analyze the forensic evidence and give me the name of the perp that had discarded the book.
"..that's one of your books..." She replied
Huh?
".. Yea, you checked it out for a Guidance lesson. You must have dropped it" my librarian cohort said.
Oh. Sorry.
"Just be more responsible next time"
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Rabies
Chool Counselor: "Brenden, I noticed as you dog was licking me in the parking lot, that he didn't have his collar on. Does he have his rabies vaccinations?"
Brenden: "I don't know, that's not my dog"
Chool Counselor: "Wha?"
Brenden: "That's not my dog. That's my uncle's dog. Petey."
Other Kid: "Petey's crazy. I've seen him eat tires"
Chool Counselor: "So is Petey vaccinated?"
Brenden: "I dunno"
Brenden: "I don't know, that's not my dog"
Chool Counselor: "Wha?"
Brenden: "That's not my dog. That's my uncle's dog. Petey."
Other Kid: "Petey's crazy. I've seen him eat tires"
Chool Counselor: "So is Petey vaccinated?"
Brenden: "I dunno"
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
Your Mind Can Go..
Working with elementary kiddos, your sense of reality starts to get just a little bent out of shape, if you let it. Sometimes you see strange things, sometimes you smell strange things, and other times you just loose all sense of reality.
Case in point , today a 1st grade student told me that she had a pet Cheetah. My brain immediately went to how I can facilitate her bring it to school...
Saturday, February 13, 2016
Valentimes Day
That's right. Valentimes day. You're not reading that incorrectly.
One of the tasks that I do as an elementary school counselor is incorrect improper speech and phrasing. It is a hallowed task and my duty to pass on to the next generation respectable industrious speech and eliminating anything reprehensible, sluggish, or lethargic.
The day that I find myself doing this the most is the Friday before Valentine's day.
Rewind a bit. The Friday before Valentine's day is one of the most chaotic of the year. It is akin to the day before Christmas Break, Halloween, or the last day of school. The entire day culminates in a huge party full of sweets, soda, games, and Tom-foolery of the worst kind. It's essentially a kiddy Mardi Gras.
It is also the day that a bunch of chocolate-crazed elementary school students insist on pronouncing Valentine's day in a most shuddering and spine-tingling manner: ValentiMes day. "It's not ValentiMes day, it's ValentiNNNNes day!" I shout for the 45th time down the hallowed halls of education.
The next thing I know, I am on my back, in the middle of a hallway, facing the ceiling. Have a lost my mind? Have I had a heart attack? No, I have spilled some of my coffee and slipped on the floor. A student runs up to me, to see if I am okay.
"Happy ValentiMes Day!" he shouts.
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