kjs adventures in az

15 December 2009

why i don't go to movies

This school year is a little out of whack, compared to others. Because we need a long summer this forthcoming summer, on account of the moving into the new building madness, we had to start school early this year. In a wonderful collision of the universe, our first semester ends right at winter break (as it should be, in my opinion).

I just finished reading Of Mice and Men with my sophomores, and we were left with 3 days before finals started with really nothing to do. That means: movie time!

I love Of Mice and Men and I adore John Malcovich as Lennie. The movie is fairly accurate (remember, don't judge a book by it's movie) and the kids seem to enjoy it.

However, one class today reminded me why I don't like to go to movies. Kids watching movies suck. I hate them.

The majority of my time was spent telling kids to stop talking. And what were they saying, you ask?

"OH! I wonder what's going to happen next!"

Well, Genius Child, you already know the answer to that BECAUSE WE READ THE BOOK.

There is no suspense in a movie when you've read the book. Allegedly.

----

Look for a forthcoming blog post on teaching Of Mice and Men to a bunch of Lennies. Yeah.

Posted by .:kerrie:. at 7:35 PM | 0 comments

12 December 2009

the tb update

I don't have it. Phew to that, folks!

All of the kids were tested this past week. To put it shortly, this was a logistical nightmare.

The whole show was run by the Lorain County Health Department, with the assistance of our school administrators. Neither party saw eye-to-eye on the desired outcome of this process. And frankly, I don't think either saw the goal of trying to do this with the least disruption to the learning that goes on in the school.

The Health Department's goal was to efficiently test every student who had proper permission to do so. I'm not sure what the school's goal was, because they seemed like so much more of a hindrance than anything.

As previously stated, the most "logical" procedure for this was to have the students be tested during their English class. The rational for this is that every student has an English class since it's required to take 4 years of English.

On the first day, on the first period the true test was held of the effectiveness of their process. And it failed.

The problem that the Health Department didn't understand was that, every student must be supervised at all times. So as teachers, we take all of our students, both those being tested and those not, down to the auditorium. We instruct the students not being tested to sit in the chairs and sent those who were being tested on their way.

Ideally, if the kids could sit still, this would have worked. But kids can't sit still. They're like herding cats. So the Health Department's perfect system was destroyed because our kids are monsters.

So for the remainder of the week someone would come to my classroom, retrieve only the students who were to be tested, and take them down to the auditorium.

This seems safe enough, but here are the flaws:

This left approximately 3-5 kids in the classroom. What were we to do? Have a staring contest? There was no point in moving on to anything new because the rest of the class would be behind.
No one brought the kids back. Some Brain Child thought that the kids would actually bring themselves back, but when you give a group of 16 year old kids the opportunity to wander the halls for the remainder of the period, they will always take it. You can bet on that.

To the best of my knowledge, none of my kids were positive.

And the best part of all of this? This was just a base-line test. It sometimes takes months for TB to be active, so in March, we get to play this game again.

Joy.

Posted by .:kerrie:. at 2:02 PM | 0 comments

09 December 2009

like playing hookie, but not really

It probably comes as no surprise that teachers love days off of school just as much (if not more?!) than students. And they love them even more if they are of the unexpected variety.

Like today. I woke up at my normal time, took my shower and turned on the news, as I always do. As I was just getting ready to turn on the hair dryer when the most annoying weather girl on Cleveland television announced that my school was closed.

Closed!

I joked last year that all our stupid old school building could give to us was a broken pipe or a power outage. And power outage it gave us! [I later found out that power went on about 30 minutes after the announcement was initially made -- suckers!]

So this left me with a day off. Glory! We had a swim meet last night that ended later than normal, so it was nice to head back to bed for another hour (because, you know, I can't sleep in anymore).

I really felt like I was playing hookie and getting away with it. When I stepped outside at 10:30 it was 50 degrees outside! It felt scandalous!

I guess the down side to this is that the semester ends in a week. Yep, 5 days to finish the last few chapters of Of Mice and Men , get a test in, try to watch the movie, and review for the final.

I'll let you know how that goes!

Posted by .:kerrie:. at 7:22 PM | 2 comments

04 December 2009

shreddin' it up

My dad works at a Country Club, so his hours are short in the winter months. Typically he works on the grounds crew and helps to winterize the place. This year, because of the economy, his hours have been significantly cut. So what does this mean?

This means that my dad has beaucoups time on his hands. He's been feverishly cleaning out apartment and throwing everything out.

I came home today at 2pm to my unshowered father cleaning out his desk. He borrowed a shredder from his friend Gus and was having the time of his life.

Dad is nothing if but thorough. He keeps everything. A small sampling of things he has discovered and shredded:

a running journal from the summer of 1976
the title to his first car
a copy of his first speeding ticket (70 in a 55 -- $10 in 1979)
a zippo lighter with his signature engraved in it (he never smoked)
my mom's Indiana nursing license (we moved from Indiana 25 years ago)
medication from 1964
unactivated credit cards from the 1990's
the title to every car that I remember us owning (1985 brown LTD Station Wagon, $12,000. 1989 Mustang, $10,000. 1998 Crown Victoria, $25,000)
touch up paint to a car that died 6 years ago
the contents of our junk drawer when we lived in Bay Village. (we moved 7 years ago)
every paycheck stub for the last 15 years
his college transcript. I was surprised to see that he had several D's, was only required to take 2 English classes, and graduated with a lower GPA than I had. Underachiever
A newspaper clipping from when he won $166.66 in a competition (the prize was $500 but there was a three-way tie)
the title to the house that I was born in
a wooden plaque of a viking that my grandpa brought home from Norway in the 1960's
a dictionary he recieved as a high school graduation gift

And the list goes on.

Earlier in the week he threw away our first computer. We got it when I was in the 6th grade. Before giving it the ol heeve-ho, dad looked through it to see if there was any important information that needed to be eliminated.

Unless you count my brother's sophomore English paper on To Kill a Mockingbird, we were fairly dull people.

And he wonders why I'm a pack rat.

Posted by .:kerrie:. at 2:25 PM | 2 comments

02 December 2009

only in e-town

Last spring when the H1N1 virus was all the rage in communicable diseases, the town I teach in had the first reported case in Ohio. Yes, in the whole of the state.

Some poor little kid went to Mexico for a vacation and brought back the piggie flu. Since no one really knew what the heck to do with this illness, the school closed down for a whole week. Pandemonium broke out, as I'm sure you can imagine.

However, this put Elyria on the map. We had the Swine Flu School.

Imagine our surpreeeeze when Tuesday, at the end of the day there was an announcement for the teachers that there would be an emergency staff meeting Wednesday morning at 7am and you'd better have the best excuse of your life if you aren't there.

So I set my alarm clock a half hour early and dragged my sweet and sour into school to hear that there is a known case of tuberculosis in the school.

Let me say that again: there is a known case of tuberculosis in the school.

As a teacher in the state of Ohio I must have a tuberculosis test before being issued a teaching license (among a bevy of other tasks and papers to be filled out). So it seems like once every other year I'm getting pricked in the forearm by a small needle, only to result in a small welt that disappears to prove that I am TB-free.

Tuberculosis seems like those old-fashioned diseases that nobody gets anymore. Because, really, when was the last time you heard of someone having tuberculosis? NEVER, that's when.

But get this disease, the oldest in recorded history (dating back to 5000 BC -- who knew?!), is alive and well in my town.

So at 7am this morning all 150 high school employees were stuck in the arm by a grouchy nurse with too much blush on, and sent on their way.

Our arms will be read on Friday, probably by the same grouchy nurse with too much blush on, and we will know our fate.

The kids are all scheduled to be tested on Monday and Tuesday. Because the whole school needs to be tested, and each student has an English class, we have the honors of taking the kids to get tested. Awesome.

I should also probably tell you now that 14 hours post-prick, I still have a red welt where the grouchy nurse with too much blush maimed my arm.

I'm mildly concerned.

Post-Edit (with a somewhat related story):

The Wednesday before Thanksgiving I came down with a nasty cold. I had mucus and boogers coming out of every opening on my face. It wasn't pretty.

I also developed Hacking Death, where my body and head actually hurt from all of the coughing. I'm happy to report that this illness is on the up-swing.

I share a room with one of the meanest teachers in the school (I use the term "share" loosely because really, I'm just a hindrance to her for 2 periods of the day). On Monday, after we returned to school from break, I was still feeling quite pooty, and this teacher noticed that I was sick.

She also complained of the sniffles and a cough.

She then proceeds to tell 2 other teachers, within ear shot of me, that I'm the one who made her sick, since I use her desk and her computer. Yeah, lady, I'm the one, out of the 923874 snot-nosed kids in this school who made you sick. I'm so sure.

The best part of this, Mean Teacher probably thinks I'm the one who has tuberculosis. Jerk.

Posted by .:kerrie:. at 7:36 PM | 3 comments

23 November 2009

developing professionally

My school district may be lacking in a few key areas, but one that it excels in is providing opportunities for its employees to attend professional development workshops.

At least weekly I get a mailing from a company called the Bureau of Educational Research (BER) with some workshop that's taking place at some airport hotel in the area. So far, I've been to a total of three of these workshops: "Co-Teaching in the Inclusion Classroom", "Motivating the Unmotivated," and the last latest and greatest was "The Best of the Best in Young Adult Literature."

Nerd Alert: I peed my pants all day at this last workshop. I died and went to nerd heaven talking and hearing about all the fabulous Young Adult Literature out there in the world.

When I interviewed for my job, the department chair asked me what my passion in English was -- was it British Lit? American Lit? Poetry? Short stories? Nope, none of those. It's Young Adult Lit. I can't get enough of that shiz.

Sitting in that workshop made me want to get my Masters in Library Science like ten bazillion times more. Our current librarian sucks. Like big time. With the help of her two evil henchwomen, they have succeeded in making the EHS library the antithesis of Disneyworld. The library makes babies cry, flowers die and the sky to turn cloudy.

It's a boring cold room with really craptastic books. Patti, the chief librarian is about as old as some of the browned books and doesn't keep on top of what's new in lit for high school kids. Hello Lady, that's your job. It just makes me want to be our schools librarian that much more. To help kids who don't like to read in the first place develop a love of reading. Hmm, novel idea (puns all 'round!)

Now, a little about these seminars. First, they're about $200 a pop, paid for by my district, thank you very much. They're usually at some hotel ballroom with all you can drink tea, coffee and hot chocolate, and sometimes muffins to boot.

There's always a BER workerbee in addition to the presenter. I would give my left arm and right leg to have the BER workerbee job. In effect, this girl gets paid to get on a plane on Monday, fly to a different place each day and introduce the presenter. Outside of signing people in, telling them how to get grad credit for the seminar, and telling people when they can take a bathroom break, and when the lunch break is, this girl sits and plays on her iPhone or reads a book.

Sign.

Me.

Up.

In fact, when I thought I was going to be unemployed this school year, I even looked into getting a job with BER, that's exactly how sweet the deal seems.

So back to the sweetness of attending.

Any day out of the classroom, when I can wear whatever my hearts desire is that day is a good day. And that's what these days entail. I get to learn about sweet stuff because I picked which seminar to go to. I get a freaking awesome book of resources to take home, and sometimes you get free gifts. Score!

My school also pays, in addition to the registration fee, for your lunch (up to $30!), parking if there is any, and mileage, up to a certain limit.

This mileage piece I forgot about until I was filling out my reimbursement form this morning. Because this last seminar was in Akron, 48 miles from my homestead, in addition to getting my lunch and parking reimbursed, I'm getting paid for my mileage! Whaaaa?! Amazing!

So this lucky girl got to attend an amazing geeked out seminar, AND is getting a check for $75 from her district.

Just add that to the perks list.

Posted by .:kerrie:. at 7:14 PM | 1 comments

19 November 2009

my wood

I was reading over here today and was honest to goodness laughing out loud, not all "lol-y" but out right laughter was expelling itself from my mouth. Nick's a dang funny writer, you should all read over there more often. And his latest post about Jack London reminded me that I wanted to share this with you:

In the Nonfiction class I teach we read essays and articles that follow a thematic thread. We read definition essays, and then write them. We read compare and contrast essays, we write compare and contrast essays. We read memoirs, we write memoirs.

So while we were reading our round of cause and effect essays, we read a great little ditty by E. M. Forster.

E. M. Forster was a British author who lived for a time in India, you know, when India was a British colony (a la Secret Garden). Which, now when I listen to Indian accents, I hear a British accent in them -- is that weird? I digress.

Forster wrote a small novel called A Passage to India and the giant country across the pond (America) ate. it. up. We couldn't get enough of it. And so we Americans were the cause of Forster earning a pretty penny.

And what did Forster do with that money? He bought land. Specifically, land with trees. And he discovered after he bought this land with trees that when one acquires land, or really any possession, they want more of that thing. Or, they want to fancy it up and make it better. In a nutshell, we can and will never be happy with what we have -- we will always want more. And having more makes us want even more and the vicious cycle continues. Think If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.

It's a great little essay that was effectively related to today's society because really, we always want more MORE MORE!! So where was the flaw in this essay?

The flaw was in the title. This brilliant little essay is called "My Wood."

And he repeats over and over "my wood." Not "my land," or "my forest" or "my property." Nope, it's "my wood."

Next, imagine you are teaching this to a classroom full of mostly 17 and 18 year old boys. And imagine that they are all horn-dogs-on-a-stick.

And imagine yourself reading passages such as:

If you own things, what's their effect on you? What's the effect on me of my wood?

My wood makes me feel heavy. In the second place, it makes me feel it ought to be larger.

In the third place, wood makes its owner feel that he ought to do something to it.

Good luck with that.

Posted by .:kerrie:. at 6:44 PM | 1 comments

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