5-16-2015

The last week of the school year is not my favorite week. I’m not saying I’m not looking forward to the break, but the last week kind of scares the shit out of me. There are so many, many, many things that can happen that week, and most of those things do not involve smiles. And this is the last week of the school year for me.

One of the problems is that everybody knows it’s the last week. Teachers are high-fiving like a bunch of 15 year olds who just scored some Olde English. They’re all thinking, “Yeah, last week of school. I am soooo ready for this.”  That’s flawed reasoning right there, because if we realize it, so do the kids. And if they realize it, that means they are also high-fiving, mainly because they are a bunch of 15 year olds who just probably scored some Olde English.  Luckily, I teach the littles, 2-4th grade, who are all high-fiving because they scored some juice boxes. But they too can sense the end of the year, like those weird horses who can tell when an earthquake is about to happen. (I happen to think they’re just lucky.)

This will be a deliberately painful stampede.

To me it feels like a herd of cattle on the verge of a stampede. The students and I are both uneasily eyeing the doorway periodically throughout the day, as if someone’s going to bolt. I know if they stampede, I can’t stop them. I’m worried that something might spook them. And it could be anything, like a bee or the sudden slamming of a door. I usually like to sneak up behind a student and startle them. But not this week. That could cause a chaos I wouldn’t enjoy.  

Maybe they're just planning a take-over.

I also worry about one of the students breaking free; finally snapping from the pressure she’s endured throughout the year. And if she breaks, the rest will follow. I doubt any would look back to see if anyone else was breaking with them. They would be halfway home before I cautiously peeked out from behind the book cabinet. I have fortified a space only I am aware of.

Then there would have to be some sort of explanation to the principal. I have found that on average, a principal will not take a shoulder shrug as an answer to a direct question. In fact, more times than not they seem to hate it. And they love to ask questions. “Why was that kid wearing a bucket on his head?” “Who gave that student a stapler and a tube of super-glue?” These are perfect examples of where a shoulder shrug should suffice. Apparently not. 

After that, parents. 

Me: Mrs. Smith. Yes, I’m calling to inform you that your child has just ran out of the school, evidently with a bunch of other confused and frightened children. 

Mrs. Smith: WTF?

Me: I don’t know. 

Mrs. Smith: Seriously, WTF?

Me: Seriously, I don’t know.  

A shoulder shrug doesn’t have much of an effect while on the phone.

So while I am holding out hope for this week, I’m also trying to be realistic. I will try to keep the same routine to our day as to not provoke any suspicions. And I will not be wearing my spurs just to be on the safe side.

5-3-2015

I read somewhere that teaching is one part inspiration and two parts perspiration. I would like to add five parts frustration to that equation. Teaching is one of the most frustrating things I have ever done in my life. It’s frustrating on many levels, but I’m going to address the frustration I get when I am unable to transfer the knowledge of some educational concept from me to them. I fully understand that it is my failure most of the time when this occurs. But sometimes I point my trembling finger at the students. Then quietly suffer a mild stroke back at my desk. Sometimes it is not my fault.

This year we took our new standardized tests online. As a test proctor, there are specific procedures on how we are to handle certain situations. Like if a students asks, “Is this the right answer?” As per my

"I'm done with my test and I think you'll be
 pleased with the results."

scripted directions, I respond with, “I may not help you with any part of your test. Please do your best and choose the best response.” I think this is to get them used to dealing with DMV personnel or Comcast customer service reps. That is how I responded. How I wanted to respond was: “Are you fucking kidding me??!! Did you not listen to ONE thing I taught you this year??!!!” But I stand back and watch in horror as the student hovers her cursor over the correct answer for a moment and then goes in the opposite direction and chooses some irrelevant choice. This is not my fault. 

Frustration does not only happen with standardized tests. It appears during a daily assignment. I have a student answer a mathematical equation with the answer “food”. It was not a word problem, but a number sentence. Just numbers. With black ink. On white paper. He was not sure about the correct answer, so he went with food. And he seemed a bit shocked when I pointed out that he was wrong. This could not be my fault.

While speed is important in reading, one of my students equates finishing a reading assignment first to winning a gold medal. He proudly proclaims, “First!!!!” while other students jump at the sudden noise from the back of the room. Usually with these passages, there are four questions to make sure the student has indeed read the passage. I will ask Crazy River (as he requested to be called) if he has actually read the passage. Yes, he assures me. I compliment him on his Evelyn Wood accomplishment and he nods knowingly. I then show him that he has missed all four questions. I explain that a monkey using a crayon probably could have guessed correctly on at least one. He continues to smile while nodding, accepting this critique for praise. Or maybe his is just imagining a monkey doing his work for him. He is ultimately disappointed and pissed off when I send him back to his desk to do it again. This is not my fault at all.

There is another aspect about learning that I have to put the burden of blame on the students. This has to do with listening and choosing not to listen. Now, I know this is an adult issue also, but that can be someone else’s blog. I have gathered medical evidence for the past five years that will prove beyond doubt that my students have the capability to hear words coming out of my mouth. Because of their yearly hearing tests that take place in our school, I have seen the results with my own eyes (aided of course with corrective lenses). THEY CAN HEAR ME. But for reasons known only to them, they make the decision not to. 

I don't know why.

Me: Please turn your work into the blue bin labeled math in the back of        the room. (This is a routine we do daily.)

Student: (blank stare)

Me: Please turn your work into the blue bin labeled math in the back of        the room.

Student: Which bin?

Not. My. Fault. 

I have listed four examples where I don’t feel the need to accept the blame for failures in the classroom. I can list several hundred examples where I am the blame. So I’m not trying to pass off my classroom’s struggles on the kids. Most are my fault. And I reteach, reteach, and reteach until we come to understand our concepts. And that is the students’ success, not mine. But. Sometimes I try my hardest and the results age me unnaturally fast. 

2-22-2015

I’ve read where the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Fine, I guess that would be an unorthodoxed way to go about things. But the person who is doing that does not understand the cycle he has brought onto himself and does not realize he is going crazy. I would submit that the definition of insanity is teaching 4th graders how to divide with remainders. Because as a classroom teacher experiencing that calamity, I felt the harsh punch of insanity hit me in the esophagus. Because the esophagus is where insanity starts. So here is my story of almost becoming crazy and the small people who were driving the train.

It all started simple enough. We had been working on division and the kids were loving it. We were able to add more digits to the dividend. They enjoyed the challenge of larger numbers and were relishing the fact that they were doing hard math and succeeding. Rainbows began forming in the classroom. Students were sharing high fives with unicorns and I looked on, gratified that knowledge had indeed been transferred. Then one day I introduced them to remainders and they all lost their collective shit. 

It wasn’t a slow, gradual loss of all things rational. The explanation of remainders took away all normal functions immediately and they became catatonic lumps of carbon and bacteria sitting in their chairs. Their heads, suddenly too heavy for their neck and shoulders to support, rested on their desks. Their breathing became labored and I could hear sounds coming from their mouths. Not words as much as low moans and whimpering. And the learning stopped. 

My usual approach to instruction is to repeat: louder and slower. This did not work. They only seemed to withdraw more. When I attempted to refine the instruction, (speaking increasingly louder and slower) they still didn’t respond. I was all out of options. I had used all of my tools from my teaching tool kit; which apparently consisted of a megaphone. They didn’t even respond with the usual joy at the sight of my forehead-vein protruding. This was going to take a while.

Whatever. I'll just fart out of my mouth for a while.

We eventually got through this, but it took a lot of pushing, pulling, crying, resisting, scratching, and scowling. It was as if this idea was too complex to accept. But we made it. We used manipulatives, candy, videos, and farting. Everything involves farting with kids.  There was no cheering or rainbows made out of balloons, but the silent sigh of accomplishment when we moved on to the next chapter: sequencing. 

They were relieved because sequencing is not as abstract to them. They can visualize increasing or decreasing their candy intake incrementally. This made sense to them, so once again heads were lifted off the desks. Pencils stayed in their hands and their papers were smooth, not crinkly from being wadded up a few times. They were getting this. Math was fun again and their teacher was able to take his hands out of his pockets, no longer fearful of uncontrollably smashing things. 

This is evil!!!!

Then we began sequencing with both increases and decreases in the same series…..crap.

An open letter to my students.

An open letter to my students. 

Dear My Students,

I realize you are unlikely to respond directly to this letter, given the fact that you don’t have access to my blog. But you will share your concerns daily with me in attempts to sway my favors, so I’m writing this anyway. 

Would the compulsive, atonal whistler please refrain for making that noise? It is very unpleasant. Not only to me but to the others in our class who have the ability to hear sound. I do applaud you on your ventriloquist like ability to do it so nonchalantly that I can’t tell for sure who it is. Plus, your equally amazing ability to deny making noises as to further complicate the distraction. I will find you out.

I would also like to better explain my viewpoint on being treated as a jungle-gym. I DO NOT LIKE IT. Just because my arms are attached to my shoulders is not an invite to begin swinging from them. They are my arms and you are too big. Knock it off.

I would also like to address those of you who are attempting to hone your skills as joke-tellers. For the love of God, keep it concise! The best jokes are the short ones. And have a punchline. That is funny. I, like you, appreciate a joke that contains the words “poop” or “pee”. But it does need to be used appropriately, and there are lines that shouldn’t be crossed. I feel responsible in helping you walk that thin, dangerous line while telling a joke. I will show you how to use those words correctly and for laugh value. Just adding the word “poop” at the end of a sentence does not make it funny. Sometimes it just makes it gross.

Now, pertaining to some of you grabbing things off my desk; keep your grubby paws off my stuff. I know that three-legged horse once belonged to you, but you forfeited possession when you began playing with it instead of doing your reading assignment. As always, you will have the  opportunity to get it back after class. And before you ask, my iPhone is not for you to grab either. And it’s in my pocket. 

On a positive side, after only a few lessons, I appreciate your ability to understand the difference between correlation and causation. 

Correlation: You misplace your pencil >>>Somebody is stealing your pencils.

Causation: You find that piece of gum you dropped on the floor yesterday and put it back into your mouth >> >You need to use the bathroom because you now have diarrhea. 

Crazy River, I secretly enjoy when you take your toy jet out of your pocket and start to tell me about it. Then you realize you are not suppose to have toys out during a non-break time. Then you get a panicked look on your face because you know I am going to confiscate it from you. So you quickly put it back into your pocket and pretend that none of this ever happened. You make my day much more enjoyable. 

And all of you. Thank you for being weird and cool. I like being around weird people, and you guys are weird. I’ve never seen any group of people who enjoy sharing their different bodily odors with others. Weird. You like listening to Red Dirt music with me in class. Cool. You think Mr. Bean invented funny. A little weird, but cool. And you like to run around in circles, either in the gym or in the classroom. Very weird. But you make me laugh each and every day. And I need that.

In the end it all washes out. For every time I get annoyed, you repay me with weird coolness twice. And if you do read this, I expect a three-paragraph essay explaining why the narrator feels the way he does. And give examples!! Just kidding. I think we should just watch another Mr. Bean video and keep being weird.

Sincerely,

Clay Miller, 

Your Teacher

p.s. Stop picking your nose. I can see you because you are not invisible. Yes, you with your finger in your nose shaking your head ‘no’.

12-13-2014

Being out here in the very rural part of Alaska, we have a pretty high turnover rate with our teaching staff. In our small school alone, we have only 6 teachers. I have been here for five years and have had 3 different principals and 18 different teachers during that time. So I thought maybe I should put together a list of FAQ for someone who may be interested in coming out here to work, at my particular school. I know there are thousands of questions, but I’ll limit them to the only important ones. 

Do the students sit quietly at their desks and work with the determination of a squirrel gathering nuts for the winter?

The short answer would be “No fucking way.” 

Would it be considered rude if I ate the unmarked food in the staff refrigerator?

Keep your hands off my lunch.

Does the staff at your school act in a professional manner?

I would say that most do, but I avoid them. Or as they would say, they avoid me. Tomato/Tamato. Either way, keep your paws off my lunch.

Are flannel shirts part of the male dress code? And if so, how many does one need for a year?

Two unknown lumberjacks doing what lumberjacks do.

It’s not how many you have, but how you use them. (Am I right, Lumberjacks?  *high-fives all Lumberjacks in the vicinity*) I have 6 in the starting rotation and one on the injured reserve that I wear on the weekends. The one in reserve lost a button and I haven’t had it repaired. No, it was not an eating accident, I caught it on a door frame. But equally embarrassing. 

Does the staff work together to solve problems?

By problems do you mean ‘Find ways to make it difficult for Clay to voice his concerns during staff meetings’? Then yes, like a Swiss watch.

At staff meetings, when the principal asks if there are any further questions, why does the staff look towards you and roll their eyes?

If you don’t mind, I’d like to limit the questions to pertinent educational inquirers and not foolish water cooler jibber-jabber.

Do the students feel comfortable confiding in the staff at your school?

I have heard more inappropriate confessions in my classroom than a Boston priest at a St Patrick’s Day parade. I am not a psychiatrist but some days I enter into a surreal world of weird shit. So yes, they are painfully comfortable.    

I heard about an incident involving a stain in the hallway at your school. Did a student do that or did you?

I can see that a person could be confused on who caused this, what with the foot traffic and all. And you know how kids don’t always pay attention. Sometimes they run in the hallways without paying attention. But yes, I did that.

What the hell is it?

It is, or was, a Ding Dong. (No matter how old I get, I will never tire in saying the words Ding Dong.) I had a Ding Dong at lunch and decided to eat the Ding Dong over near my desk. Someone asked me what I was eating and I said, “It’s a Ding Dong.” Anyway, as I was walking with my Ding Dong in my hand, I accidentally dropped my Ding Dong and stepped on it.

Would you stop saying “Ding Dong” over and   over!?

No.       (Ding Dong)                       

So, there you are. This little FAQ list should help you decide if our school is right for you. And if you do feel it’s right for you, remember, that half eaten can of sardines in the fridge isn’t a charity giveaway. It’s my lunch. 

11-23-2014

It is almost Thanksgiving and I have been seeing people on Facebook post a daily list of things they are thankful for. Most start out very earnest, stating how thankful they are for all the support their family gives them. Then the next day they explain how thankful they are for their wonderful job and co-workers. (Oddly enough I have not seen any written by my co-workers.) But by the 5th or 6th day, they start scrambling for things to be thankful about. They’ll thank a pet, or maybe a cousin they played with as a child. By the time Thanksgiving comes around, they’re not even trying any longer. They’ll miss a few days and apologize, stating their thanks for the weather and hard bristled brooms. (A obvious shout out to the broom lobby.) These are the people who finish their projects. The rest quit after day 4 and get back to the real reason for social media: hating on everything. 

Wild Tundra Turkeys. Then we ate them.

But those eager attempts to share with others got me thinking about what I’m thankful for. Here is my list of 20 things I’m thankful for. And I will do it all at one time, so I don’t expose my inability to finish a project. 

Things I’m thankful for: (Not in order of importance)

1. My wonderful wife for allowing us to live in two
   places I love.
2. My job where I can hang out with the coolest and weirdest kids in the world.
3. Sunday morning breakfast with the Becks.
4. Red Dirt Music.
5. Flannel.
6. Flush toilets. I can not emphasize how thankful I am about this.
7. Amazon Prime. They are my provider of such items as chili, coffee beans, and toilet paper. 
8. Opposable thumbs.
9. The fact that camera phones were not around when I was young and foolish(er). 
10. My slippers.
11. Living in a place cold enough to sleep between fleece sheets. If you’ve never experienced this, do yourself a favor and move to Alaska, or Canada, and put these on your bed. You will thank me for the sage advice. 
12. The ability (and desire) to Google information of ‘shared’ Facebook posts to verify validity. Seriously, it only takes seconds and it can keep you from looking like a total dumbass. 
13. Leftover Halloween candy.
14. The ability to have dreams while I sleep. Because of this, I am able to still see my dad and talk to him. I realize its not real, but for a short time it is. And I’m fine with that.
15. Hard bristled brooms. Science fact: they move dirt like nobody’s business.
16. The color red. The boss of all other colors. 
17. Beer. 
18. The chemical reaction that occurs when heat is applied to the flesh of dead pork. Or in other words, BBQ RIBS!
19.  
20.  

Of course these are not the only things I’m thankful for, but they are what I thought of while writing this. I was born into a great family and I married into a great family. That sure makes me able to be thankful for many things in my life. 

Community dinner a couple of years ago.

We are having two Thanksgiving dinners. The first one on Wed. will be with our village. Each year the students serve the community a Thanksgiving meal. On Thursday we will get together with coworkers and talk about how great we are. Then we’ll eat turkey again. So yeah, I’m going to have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

10-25-2015

In my last blog, I ranted about the misconceptions of the Common Core State Standards. This week I’m going back to what I know best; writing about farts. My life’s ambition was not to go forth and share my experience and knowledge about farts. It just sort of happened. Unfortunately.

My exposure to professional grade farts started in my early adulthood. As a young man right out of high school, I thought I’d give college a try. Well, turns out I couldn’t tell the difference between being a responsible drinker or being the dude that Aerosmith kicked out of the band because he drank too much. So I did what most mature minded people do: I joined the US Navy Submarine Force. Without going into every detail, there was a large volume of farting caused by colossal quantities of beer and indigestible fast food. I was always amazed at the pride some would have of their expelled sewer bouquet. Some would have the same look of pride on their face as a first-time father sharing a picture of his newborn. They would then nod their head, poke me in the chest, and boast, ”That’s how you do it!” I wanted to point out that I already knew how to fart, but I really didn’t. Not like that. So I hung my head and fought through the next 6 years.

Now, some odd years later, I’m an elementary teacher. And once again I am faced with a room full of people who take no shame in sounding their ass trumpets. Not just the small sounds that you would expect coming out of small children. Some of these sounds are more like that of a logging truck just entering a town, turning on his compression break. I have to imagine the air pressure inside these kids are more than inside the tire of a tractor. And it doesn’t matter what they are ingesting. It’s not like they’re eating undercooked beans and then suffer the effects. They can walk up to the drinking fountain, take a drink, and then produce pure evil out of their ass. 

Maybe a science fair project?

After one of these treasures is released, the presenter revels in the laugher of the entire class. My only recourse is to wait for the laughter to die down. After the laughter comes the smell, which invokes the same response from the class. “Oh my god! The smell!!” they laugh. Yes, it is warm air over a turd. It makes sense that it will smell bad. I am still amazed at the lingering power some of the kids have.

It is hard to imagine that in the interior of those cute little faces brews a stench strong enough to drive demons out of the room. I’m lucky enough to be able to keep my door to the hallway open and my windows open to create a draft. This will aid in clearing the room temporarily. Some teachers are forced to keep their doors closed because of noise or other gas bags in the hallways that may come into their rooms and fart. There are those who roam the halls, looking for open classrooms to deposit their fart. Thanks Common Core!

So, what do I do about it? Nothing I guess. I just have to deal with it the best way I can and always position myself near a window. And always remind myself to be thankful I am not the one who has to wash their underwear. The Hulk on their Underoos may have changed colors. And he's still pissed.