Authors: John Pearson
Anyway, Mrs. Fitzgerald, Miss Palmerstein, and I had a brilliant idea last week. We figured that a great way to help the kids get even better with math problems AND to save ourselves the effort of searching through books for good homework was to have the kids do ALL of the work. So their “test” today was to write their own word problems. They were allowed to write as many as they wanted, but they had to write at least one problem that required addition and at least one problem that required subtraction.
Some of the problems that I received were actually quite well written, and some were endearingly hilarious. It was clear that nearly all of the kids put their best effort forward.
Here are some of the standouts:
“Felipe has 24 suckers and he gave Tyler 10 of them. How many suckers did he have left?”
This might not seem so special, but it came from Felipe, one of my absolute lowest students.
“On Friday, I had a test of addition and there were 12 problems. I only finished 5 of them. How many more did I need to do?”
This is a fantastic subtraction problem from Thilleenica that doesn’t involve anything being given or taken away.
“Antonio and Victor went to school. Antonio did the Pledge of Allegiance 20 times. The next day, Victor did the Pledge of Allegiance 50 times. How many times did they do it all together?”
I’m telling you, I make them recite it until they get it right, and there are no more mentions of “One Asian, under God.”
“Ta’varon had 5 sisters. 2 of them went to college. How many sisters does he have now?”
Well, still five, I think. Unless of course they went to North Carolina, in which case it would stand to reason that they are dead to him.
“Yesterday, the temperature was 34° F. What will be the change in temperature during the night?”
Eddie posed a question more suited for our meteorologists than our third graders.
“Mister Woodson has 99 markers. He received 900 more markers. Mister Woodson has a nice haircut. How many markers does Mister Woodson have in all?”
An interesting choice of random extra information, and Tyler’s nose WAS a bit browner than usual today.
And finally, a question from Cerulean, who unfortunately just doesn’t understand the concept.
“Derrick had $22 in the bank. He spent $32 for his lunch. How many more money does he have left?”
I hope this poor girl doesn’t get her hands on a credit card anytime soon, because I’m afraid she’s going to be upside-down immediately.
I’m going to take several of the good ones and use them as morning problems and homework problems next week. And if one or two of them show up on the swing set or monkey bars, I will disavow any knowledge of said problems.
Later,
Saul V Kwaytion
I wouldn’t expect for you to see any third grade word problems scrawled on the walls there at the factory. Ben Marston from R&D HAS been known to scribble chemical formulas on the bathroom stall door, though, so watch out for that. He claimed that inspiration struck at an awkward moment when he didn’t have anything to write on. Us dumb jock guys pointed out that he was sitting right next to an entire roll of writing material, and he seemed stunned. You know those brainiac guys – can’t see the toilet paper for the trees.
By the way, I forgot to mention it last time, but I REALLY wish I could have seen the look on Larry’s face when you shouted, “PICANTE!” over his cubicle wall. I just think you shouldn’t have explained it to him. You should have left him wondering what the heck you were smoking.
I hope you’re having a great week. I myself am having a very short week. We had Monday off for MLK Day, and Tuesday was our semester transition teacher work day. One semester down and one to go! We’ve made it through 1/2 of the year, we’ve got 2/3 left to go, and only 12/9 of my kids understand fractions.
It’s amazing how the short weeks always feel like the longest. I think the kids feel like they have to cram a week’s worth of foolishness into a mere three days.
In honor of the holiday, Mrs. Bird had her kids reading and writing about Martin Luther King, Jr. She gave them mini-biographies and asked them to make a “biography quilt” on a large piece of construction paper.
She brought one of the quilts and one of the books over to show me. First, she asked me to read a page in the book that said Dr. King hoped to inspire Americans “through his peaceful efforts.”
Then she showed me the quilt where Temperance had miscopied this sentiment as, “through his space full of farts.”
Ironically enough, this lets me segue smoothly into my next topic – gas. Well, also solids and liquids. We studied the three states of matter last week, and over the long weekend, I gave the kids a homework assignment where they had to make a list of items around their homes that fell into these three categories.
As I expected, I got some interesting responses in terms of our three states of matter. It’s always fun to read these lists and see what unique items the kids put on their lists. I’m sad to say that so far in my teaching career, no one has listed Nightcrawler’s smelly BAMF cloud or Terminator 2’s liquid metal.
I’m always curious to see which kids are daring/reckless enough to put any bodily functions on their list. Last year, one boy did list “fart” under the gas column. Good for him for thinking outside the box. Just so long as he keeps things inside the bowl. This year, nobody expressed any kind of flatulence, though Miles did list a bunch of solid foods in the “gas” column that would make anyone toot. Baked beans, baked rice, baked everything.
Jacob and Tomas put ketchup on their lists of liquids, so as you might expect, I immediately gave them both a grade of 500. And before you even reply, Fred, I don’t need to hear a lecture about thixotropic solids and whatnot; from a 3rd grader, I will accept ketchup as a liquid.
The most entertaining entry came from Clarisa, whose list of liquids revealed a lot about her home life. First there was Bud Light. Then came Clamato. Naturally, the list ended with Pepto Bismol.
Not turning in a list were my two newest cast members in this two-act play I call third grade. They’re part-time players anyway. These two are from the Behavioral Unit.
At our school, we have a handful of kids who are, for whatever reason, deemed unable to function in a regular classroom environment. Don’t ask me how they select the kids for this unit, because I can’t for the life of me understand how Roy’al is not among them.
Patrick and Felicia are kids that are being slowly reintegrated into the mainstream system. They are only with me for science class every day, and a teacher from the Behavioral Unit is supposed to be with them in class at all times.
Patrick has been at this school for a while, so I’m already somewhat familiar with him. He’s an Eddie Haskell type. If he thinks you’re not watching him, he’ll punch another kid or spit on someone. Then when you look at him, he’ll put on a huge smile and tell you how he loves your tie and your choice of footwear.
Felicia is new to the school. Ms. Hamm, the special ed teacher, told me a little about her last week when they knew she was transferring. Ms. Hamm told me that Felicia seems sweet enough, but that she has frequent anxiety attacks. Oh, and she sees monsters. So she has to carry around a spray bottle of pepper water – I’m assuming that this is exactly what it sounds like – to ward off these monsters.
My first question to Ms. Hamm was, “Can I spray pepper water at some of MY monsters, like Lex and Demontrae?”
Yesterday, Patrick and Felicia didn’t come to my class. Apparently, they weren’t ready. Today, Ms. Whitney accompanied them, and they sat at a table in the back. Ms. Whitney mostly watched over the two Behavioral Unit kids, but she wasn’t hesitant to help out with a few other kids as well. When I asked the kids to take out their science books, Ms. Whitney noticed that Eddie hadn’t complied. She shouted at him, “He SAID, take out your book!!” and he immediately did.
Something tells me that SHE won’t have to play Simon Says with him. In fact, when she yelled at him, I’m pretty sure he let a little bit of all three states of matter out of his body.
Might want to check your shorts for cake, kid.
Talk to you later,
Saul Idstate
I think that the only way you’re ever truly going to be rid of your problem is if you sit down and write a formal letter to Paul and/or Reggie, stating that you neither need nor want an example-filled lesson on the three states of matter every time you visit Larry’s cubicle. Be sure to mention that you have it on good authority that the phrase “Pull my finger” is not how most teachers introduce the gas phase.
Beware, though; if Larry counters your complaint by saying, “It’s for science!” your case goes out the window.
I haven’t actually gotten to see Felicia’s pepper water yet, so I can’t answer your question about the delivery system. I would guess it’s just a recycled Windex bottle or something. I’ve also refrained from asking her about the monsters. As it so happens, she’s not the only third grader with monsters on her mind.
Yesterday, as we were coming back inside from recess, several of my girls were enthusiastically telling me that somebody had seen a clown outside, and that this clown had killed a kid. Our transitional conversation usually isn’t quite so morbid. Most of the time, it ranges from, “Mr. Woodson, I forgot my jacket!” to, “Mr. Woodson, I forgot my sweater!” with the occasional, “Mr. Woodson, I left my book outside!” thrown in for good measure.
I pretty much ignored the killer clown comments, instead reminding the kids to “be ninjas” as we walked down the hallway. That’s my code phrase for, “Knock off all that jibber jabber!”
The phenomenon would not be ignored for long, however.
Today at recess, before any of the teachers realized what was going on, a huge group of third graders (about 50 or 60) had gathered out in the far corner of the soccer field where there is a sewer grate. I had a feeling they weren’t holding a poetry slam, so I went out to the field and chased them all back onto the playground, only to hear about twenty confirmations that there was indeed a killer clown living down in the sewer.
Well, this clinches it. Someone has been watching Stephen King’s “It.” Ten years ago, I would have bet good money that no eight-year-old ever would have been allowed to watch a scary movie like that, but my first year of teaching quelled those thoughts. Now I know it’s not at all uncommon for these kids to watch High School Musical and Freddy vs. Jason in the same weekend.
Not only that, but I also have firsthand proof that my kids are so brilliant that instead of running FROM a would-be homicidal circus freak, they would actually swarm CLOSER to it. Have I mentioned that I do NOT work at a Vanguard school?
Most of the kids seem (I hope!) to know that it’s just a big gag. But Ella seems genuinely terrified. While the other kids were trying to top each other’s gruesome stories about the clown, I noticed Ella wincing in terror, as if the Statue of Liberty’s head had just gone careening past her. Miss Rooker had to take her out of class this afternoon and talk with her about it, trying to calm her fears.
I can only hope that next week, nobody comes to school talking about a red and white 1958 Plymouth Fury that can drive itself.
Later in the day, there was another terrifying incident. I don’t know if it was from fear of Pennywise the Killer Clown or from a bad reaction to the fish sticks, but Hillary couldn’t keep her lunch down.
Around 1:30, I was stooped down by Tyler’s desk, helping him with a math problem. All of a sudden, from the other side of the room, I heard the sound of 500 wet paper clips hitting the floor. Ah yes, someone had blown chunks.
I stood up and saw Hillary staring at me with a stained shirt and glazed eyes. She looked like she was in a trance, just waiting to be told what to do. Had I shouted, “VOMIT!” she probably would have puked again. Had I screamed, “JUGGLE BOWLING PINS!!” she might have attempted it. Instead, I shouted, “GO TO THE BATHROOM!!”
Meanwhile, every other eyeball in the room was riveted to the suspiciously Oreo-colored puddle on the floor. My sarcastic inner voice came out, and I couldn’t help saying, “PLEASE! Keep staring at the throw up! Let’s all get a REALLY good look at the vomit and make ourselves sick! Tomorrow, be sure to bring a camera, so you can take a picture!”
WHY??? Why do these kids STARE at throw up? Personally, MY reaction to someone vomiting is to get as far away as possible from that person and their hurlage. Not these kids, though.
Oooh, somebody got sick and made a disgusting mess? Let’s stick our noses in it and get the full sensory experience! Wow, there’s a murderous clown running around? Let’s go see if we can find it and catch its attention! Those toothpicks might be dangerously sharp? Let’s see how many we can get stuck in our butt cheeks!
Well buddy, I’m going to let you go now. I think I’ve got some milk in the fridge that expired in December, so I’m going to see how it smells and tastes.
Later,
Pepe La Puke
No, I never did discover who actually started the Killer Clown rumor. Chassany tried to tell me one day, but all I heard was, “I heard it from a 4th grader, who heard it from another 4th grader, who heard it from…” Then I zoned out.
Let me address a few of the questions from your co-workers that you presented.
Tell Carol that my fellow teachers and I have banned the kids from going out to that sewer grate anymore, so the clown rumors have mostly subsided.
Let Tiffany know that Ella seems to be over her terror and doesn’t appear to be afraid to go outside anymore.
Please pass on to Winter that the Rampaging Clown never actually hurled chicken fingers at the kids in any of the stories I heard.