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.

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.

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."

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."