The Day Before the End of the Grading Period

Every teacher has a story. Or two. Or ten thousand.

Today, I discovered that my 31st student would be meeting me for the first time tomorrow. I found out when I logged into my grade book online and saw that red number, the sign that something has changed. I quickly requested an additional desk from the office (which was delivered during 4th, so way to go custodial staff! I expected to have to wait a few days) and shot out an email requesting this kiddo's grades. For fun, I composed a little poem to commemorate the moment.

It turns out that this new kid is friends with a student in my 4th period class. That student inferred what was happening when the desk was brought it and guessed the student's name which prompted him to tell me that the new student comes from a different high school.

The email was already sent, however, and my poem (below) was distributed amongst the other English teachers. Perhaps, if you read it, you'll begin to understand why teachers get flustered as the grading period closes or students transfer from one class/school to another.

Here it is for your own review.

The Day Before the End of the Grading Period
by Mrs. V

'Twas the day before the end of the grading period
and all through the school,
the children were slacking;
they thought it was cool.

The grades were all posted
on each teacher's door
in hopes that "What am I missing"
would be spoken no more.

I was keeping calm
as I entered late grades.
I opened the grade book
and stood - amazed.

For what to my bespeckled
eyes should appear
but a brand new student.
Oh, my. Oh, dear.

This is important;
this is my plea:
I really need his grades.
Will you please help me?


Maybe you don't love it but that's okay. Here's something you might find useful, however. If you find it necessary to move your child from one school to another, you might want to check their end of grading cycle dates at both schools. It's not as big of a deal at the first school as it is at the second. The second school has to wait on the grades to go through the central office and that can take some time. Often your kid will get an Incomplete because we do not have enough information to go on. That can be difficult to change later. By the time you find out what your child's grade was the previous grading cycle, the new cycle has come out and your student could be failing for the semester, risking the loss of credit. If your teacher had known, more attention could have been paid to your kiddo. If you had known, you would have been on him/her like make-up on a circus clown. Just a little something to keep in mind.

Why I am a teacher

 This evening, I posted a moment from my day at work. I told my students that I'm not a teacher to fail students, believe it or not. Naturally, they asked me why. When I told them, a kiddo said, "that's the best reason I've ever heard."

It got a bunch of Facebook likes. It also sparked a friend (who recently became a teacher herself) to ask me why I became a teacher. The answer is too long for a Facebook post. It was too long to give in full in class. If you work with me, I PROMISE that I gave a synopsis and not the whole story.

You, like my student, may think this is the best reason ever. You may not. That's fine. My reason is my reason and, like it or not, it's good enough for me. So without further adieu, I give you my reason.

When I graduated from college, I got a job at a temporary agency as a liaison between the temp agency and the company that was temporarily employing workers from the agency. I worked for the temporary agency itself but on-site with the client (Caremark).

While my responsibilities included mundane things such as checking people in on their first day and taking attendance and fun things like celebrating birthdays and running contests based on attendance, I also had the responsibility to let people know when they were on a warning or when they were being let go. I'm pretty sure they asked me to fire people because they (the agency) knew it sucked and didn't want to do it themselves.

There came a day when I was informed that a worker hadn't passed her third test (actually, she'd failed all three - and you can't do that) during training and she was going to let go of her.

I don't know if I'll ever forget the look on the first woman's face when I told her. There is NO nice way to let someone know they're fired, by the way. There are nicer ways and mean ways, but none of them are really, truly nice.

She cried. She asked me how she was going to feed her three kids - her husband had just lost his job, too. It totally sucked. I did the only thing I could do: I shook my head and I cried with her.

Not long after, I was up on the call center floor, reviewing files and I noticed that a woman's attendance was shaky at best. I talked to her and found out that her baby girl was super sick. Born with heart problems, she was in the hospital, fighting for her life. The worker was trying to get hired on full time at Caremark so she'd have insurance. Unfortunately, she didn't get hired on in time. Her baby died, she and her husband had HUGE problems (they were living with his parents) and she got kicked out of the house, and to make matters worse, her attendance problems caused her to lose her job.

I felt completely helpless in both situations. It was their performance that caused the problems but I wanted to rescue them both from their situations.

I'm a teacher because of those women. I'm a teacher because I don't want that life for anybody and if I can get in there and make a difference in a kid's life and help them turn it around, that's what I want to do. I have come to the realization that I can't do it for them, but I can help them learn to help themselves.

That's why I'm a teacher.

"I'm sorry"

A while ago, I walked into Freebirds with my husband who told the guy serving me that I was not a huge fan but he could change that. The guy gave me a hard time about everything, EVERYTHING that I wanted. He even challenged me when I asked for a little more cheese since that's the only thing I really wanted on my tacos. He wouldn't do it unless I paid 50 cents per extra scoop. I told him that Chipotle would give me extra cheese, no cost. He countered that Chipotle had more restaurants and could afford to do that. I mentioned that the sign at the front of the line says everything on the list - cheese included - is free. He didn't know what I was talking about. I left, hurt and very angry about how I'd been treated, especially when my husband had made it clear that I wasn't a fan (though I was amiable) in the first place and I called the manager to complain.  I've worked food service in my lifetime and that is no way to treat a customer. They told me that I'd go in their book and my entire family could eat for free whenever I was ready. I'm still not ready.

Today, we went into Freebirds again and I had my bag of superior tacos from Chipotle-made any stinkin' way I want - in tow. The server today was a man wearing a Longhorn shirt. Mr. V asked if he went to UT or was just a fan. Just a fan (there are tons of people who sport the gear but never set foot on my precious 40 acres) but he's working on his associates. There was more small talk but it was all very nice.

Sitting down at our table, Mr. V asked me if that was the same guy. I said, "No. He was nice." Truthfully, I was so upset about the incident that I really remember the words and intonation better than the person who spoke them.

The man who had served Ryan today came over and asked if he could do anything else for us other than apologize for the way he had treated me so many months before.

I was SHOCKED. I couldn't believe he'd remembered me. Not only that, but he remembered that we'd been in a couple of times since - and I'd never ordered anything in those times. It was a great apology, too, one where he acknowledged exactly where he screwed up - "I had the opportunity to turn you into a fan and I blew it" - didn't blame anyone but himself, though Mr. V tried to help him out with that, and offered to make amends. Next time, he told me, "the cheese is on me." He confessed that he had to change, not only because of the incident that got him into trouble (I'm the only one who has ever complained about him) but also because of his promotion to assistant manager.

How much growing up he had done in the days since our initial encounter! I'm very impressed by his apology. I still can't believe that he remembered me or that my complaint had really meant something to him. There are far too few people anymore who take responsibility for their own actions, and fewer still who don't apologize without throwing someone else under the bus at the same time.  This young man has grown from this experience and I'm glad we had a chance to reconcile. I feel more at peace walking into that establishment in the future.

Who in your life deserves an apology? What are you waiting for? Reconciliation may not be easy but it's worth it.

A Teacher Trick

If you don't know already, I am an English teacher. I love my job and I love my students but a lot of the time I can't get them to be incredibly interested in my subject.

It's a sad, sorry state of affairs that they have come to view English as something they've mastered since their friends understand them. Forget the fact that the adults whom they hope will employ them may not be impressed by communication skills that include LOL, gr8, and u r anything.

I can't tell you how many times I have tried to impress upon my students the fact that it's NOT just me! I'm not the only one who cares about grammar. In fact, I recently corrected my husband's misreading of a Bible verse - only because leaving out the 'not' completely changed the meaning of the verse - which prompted a woman I'd never met to come up and point out a problem in the church flyer. She's a lawyer and also thought (as I do) it was irresponsible to not proof read before submitting the flyer for publication. It was a pretty huge, meaning-altering error! To my students, however, this is just one other person on my side.

A little too late, I came up with an idea that proved successful in my classroom. I told them that, for extra credit, they needed to "Like" Grammarly on Facebook. I'd pull off the dates and times of carefully selected cartoons, status updates, and picture posts and ask them questions relating to the posts.

Without complaint, students started interacting with the language - and they liked it. It was fantastic. I gave them a reason (extra credit in a difficult class) to chase after meaning and wrestle with the constructs of our language. It was so wonderful that the following happened:

A student, Little Mr. M, came to class one day looking a little puzzled. He had been my student during his Freshman year and was my student again for English III (Juniors) this past year. He said, "Ms, there were so many people talking about grammar!"

"Yes, Little Mr. M, there are."

"No, there are like thousands of people talking about the same thing. They get really into it!" he told me.

"I know. I've seen it."

"All this time, I thought it was just you!"

Anything that I can do to get my students involved in the learning process and any exposure I can give them to understand that there is a larger world out there is 100% worth it to me. I desperately want my students to rise above the challenges that face them and I want them to want it. It's hard, though, to make them see that there is a world out there that operates differently than what they see through their eyes. With Grammarly's help, I feel like I'm starting to do exactly that.


Mrs. V

A delicious dilemma of sorts

***I wrote this a while back and never actually published it. So now, months and months after I wrote it (we're talking February, peeps), here it is. It isn't controversial like some other posts. Unless you look at it from a "first-world problems" perspective.***


Me: "Green apple juice is so delicious. I don't know how I ever drank anything else!"
Mr. V: "You sound like an infomercial!"
 
Sitting down to dinner last night, freshly squeezed juice in hand, I had this overwhelmingly peaceful feeling. It was this refreshing feeling that stuck with me and strangely enough, made me wish, once again, for a dishwasher with the ability to run the top or the bottom rack separate from the other.

It is a frequent topic of discussion around here, this dishwasher talk. It's usually revolving more or less around my choice of "next new appliance" which we'll get in 25 years, after we finish paying off our college loans (did I say 25? I meant 2.5. Or less. We're that on top of our finances - and proud of it!) - an oven, a refrigerator, or a dishwasher. Usually, the refrigerator wins. The one we have now was left here by the people who owned the house before we did and, not long after we moved in, we found out why. It grumbles and roars if you leave the water dispenser plugged in. And I'm not talking about some minor roar like that of a young Simba just learning to pounce. I'm talking about a full Terrible Twos Tantrum complete with fist pounding and high pitched screaming. It's terrible. So we unplugged the water dispenser and now the chief complaint about the fridge is that it crowds our food. Boo!

Around the holidays, the oven usually wins out. I'd like one with a warming tray or a double oven. That would make my cooking/baking side extremely happy. But it's not usually that big of an issue since we are a family of two and I don't typically have the time to make huge meals requiring a double oven.

Lately, though, the dishwasher, once on the bottom rung of my important appliance ladder, has risen to the top. And it's all because of my juicer. I love my new juicer and the energy I get from being healthier SO much that I am willing to sacrifice a spacious new refrigerator with French doors and a bottom freezer; I'm willing to sacrifice an oven that can make my holiday dreams come true. I want to juice EVERY day! And sometimes more than that. Mr. V doesn't like to run the dishwasher if it isn't full and I don't have time (or energy) to hand wash the entire unit every single time I want juice BUT if I had the new dishwasher, the one that allows you to wash the top rack apart from the bottom, I could juice every day and be a much happier (and healthier) camper.

Isn't it funny how your priorities can change? 

Mrs. V

I'm not a parent

Take a moment and do the pre-reading reading assignment for today's post. 

http://tinyurl.com/momwars

This popped up on my friend's Facebook today. I know that I'm going to face some heat for this post because I don't have any children but I do have some observations of both sides. These observations, along with mom war articles related to the issue of staying at home vs. working as a mother have oscillated in my head and made me consider what I might do when the time comes to chose a side.

While I'm not a mom, I face some of the same issues as the stay-at-home mother in my job as a teacher. There is isolation, the feeling that I'm not doing enough, a lack of appreciation from the kids, from other teachers, and from administrators, and pressure to do more and more and more with no idea what the outcome may be. And many of the teachers that I know who have quit their jobs to stay home with their kiddos enjoy it a LOT more than dealing with feisty teenagers all day.

That's the place I'm coming from. My adult time during the day comes down to 20 minutes at lunch, and even then, sometimes I work through lunch. Sometimes my peers do.

I don't have the experience of raising my own kids but I did my part to help form the character of 156 teenagers this year - and those are just the ones on my roster. I encounter and help far more than those in my classroom in any given year. I spend more time with other people's children than those kids spend with their parents. I counsel and advise in a way that parents don't get to experience because they are the parents. I implore my kiddos (and they are MY kiddos, though not biologically speaking) to talk to their parents or at least understand that their parents try their best to give their kids their best - even if they might be confused about what that is.

This article should be taken with a grain of salt; your individual experiences will vary. Not everyone feels the same way about each situation they're a part of. I imagine that if, when the time comes, I stay home with my children, there will be frustrating days, loss of sleep, feelings of inadequacy, and isolation. But, like in teaching, there will be moments of hilarity, adoration, and absolute joy.

It seems that girls will stop at nothing but to destroy one another. Mean girls grow up to be . . . mean girls. Stop the mom wars. Everyone has their own perspective on the whole kid issue. And not everyone's circumstance is the same. Maybe we should stop judging one another and instead use that energy to try to honestly understand and support one another. Kids need as many champions as they can find.

The Itsy Bitsy Spider is my least favorite song. Ever.

I hate spiders. We have an unending supply of them at our house. They live in our garage, the side that has a few miscellaneous boxes from my childhood/single life on it. I was cleaning up the garage today, something I'm loathe to do (due to the spider invasion) when I found one clinging onto the flap of my "garage sale" box. Springing into "oh no, this is awful" mode - which resembles panic, I karate kicked the box flap and managed to kill it without seeing it die. Now, I feel icky. Even post-shower.

So, who thought it was okay to encourage the itsy bitsy spider to crawl up the spout again? Why can't he just stay washed out? Is the song meant to be warning to the rest of us about the unrelenting efforts of the spiders? If so, point taken.

My spiders are indefatigable. They pop up everywhere at a moments notice. I wash them off with the hose, they come right back.  Super soak them and double the wax at the gas station car wash and my car will stay shiny - right up until I park it in the driveway. At that point, the spiders will weave webs all over my tires and my side view mirrors and my door handles. Like a boss.

Visitors beware: If you are like me and have an itching fear of spiders, park in the street. At least until we can get some sort of professional out here to spray the place down. One day, I will have victory over the spiders. I will!

And that pesky hornet, too! (different story, different day)

Hoping  your summer is about to kick off pest-free!

Mrs. V

'Til death do us part - or maybe just until I don't like the arrangement anymore

Today, a student made a comment about how it's sad that nobody stays together anymore (this was random and unsolicited) so I told her "I'm staying married."

The kids countered, "You don't know that."

So I said, "Yes, I do. I'm staying married."

As the first girl was about to speak again, another spoke up in my defense but all she said was that she's seen us together and we're inseparable so of course we’re staying married.* I quickly changed the topic and moved on with class.  

 I had forgotten it until I got home tonight and logged into Facebook. I saw that a dear former student wrote something about tattoos. Get your father’s or son’s name tattooed on you. These guys will stay, she argued. She doesn’t think girls should tattoo their boyfriend’s name on them. This didn’t surprise me at all since it has been bantered about by my students throughout the years that if you get a tattoo of your significant other, you are destined to break up. And heck, I support that sentiment. What shocked me (and then only for a minute) was that she lumped husbands in there with the boyfriends! “- they come and go.”

It all has me thinking: What do kids think about marriage in the first place these days? That you just marry somebody and maybe you like them, maybe you don't? At least you get a heck of a party out of the deal? Maybe some kids?

Unfortunately, so many kids are the product of a marriage that ended poorly. Just a thought, though: People talk about a broken marriage but it is rare that they acknowledge that the marriage wasn’t what was broken but rather the two people in it. 

The best predictor of whether or not a couple will stay married is each individual's attitude toward marriage. If you go into it thinking, "If it doesn't work out, I'll just get a divorce," you're probably going to end up divorced because marriage is tough. But go into it with the idea that you're going to stick it out no matter what and you’ve got a fighting chance in a world that wants you to believe that options are better than commitment. My husband and I don’t always agree and marriage isn’t always butterflies and picnics by the lake. It is a daily choice to love one another through our sins (because nobody is perfect) and still stand side by side. 

I hope my kiddos will see that and I hope they'll come to understand that marriages don't have to end if you don't want them to. It's the only way we'll start reversing the current trend. 

Mrs. V

*NOTE: We do NOT kiss and hug in front of the kids but we DO try to be a good couple role model for them because a lot of them have only seen their parents’ marriage and that didn’t work out so that is all they have seen.

**If you are being abused or feel your life is in danger, please seek help. It is NEVER okay for someone to damage anyone else.

Want to play matchmaker on Valentine's Day? Read this first.

When are you going to settle down? Any special someone on the horizon? Don’t you want to be married?

These are the questions that rattle the cages of single people everywhere. And inside those cages are cringing, trembling, crying, and enraged people who don’t think it is any of your business whether they are single or not. And they don't want to explain why, either.

A few months ago, I wrote a post about married people being pressured to have kids and the response was incredible. I received so many messages about how this spoke to individuals and couples who are waiting to have kids either by their own choice or circumstances beyond their control or understanding. I also received a message, one that resonated with me and, months later, is still on my mind. “What about the single people?”

Like those of us who are married and childless, singletons are single by choice – theirs or someone else’s. It isn’t always in their control. The heart wants what the heart wants but, in the case of love, the desire that burns in many hearts is often not satiated. And while many singles want you and me and everyone else to know it, they won’t but in the closest of friendships reveal it to anyone. 

It is hard to feel rejected by most anyone anytime at our lives but it is especially painstaking to have people rub the ultimate (intentional or unwitting) rejection in the faces of those who are single.  Because that is what it feels like. In a culture obsessed with hearts and roses, saturated with sexy images and suggestive scenes, singletons are stuck on the thought that, “nobody wants me. Nobody needs me. I go unloved.” And never is it more painful than during the colder months when families gather to share holiday meals, champagne is raised and kisses are bestowed as midnight strikes, and aisles fill up with chocolate in red boxes shaped like hearts.

I’m not sure but at the very least, men seem to feel relieved when faced with no Valentine’s Day date. The pressure is off! But there is more than one lonely girl out there as evidenced by restaurant tables filled with giggles and girl-talk. The sheer number of Anti-Valentine’s Day parties that pop up around this time year after year is proof of the pain that this, the last in a string of lovey-coupley parties, inflicts.

From someone on the other side, I have something to say to you. Marriage is not always kisses and hugs and someone to pass you the potatoes. It is hard work, something that the rise in divorce rates should tell you.  It takes years to get to the point of having that happily ever after we read about. And, as a friend pointed out just last night, conflict with each other is something we will face until the moment we take our last breath.

A relationship is made up of two people who were raised by different sets of parents, had different sibling experiences, and have had life encounters that have shaped each person’s view of the way the world works. A marriage should not be forced and bully tactics have got to stop. While well intentioned in many cases, I believe it can be detrimental to your single loved one finding someone with whom they are truly compatible.

As expected as marriage may be, divorce expectations have risen in the minds of people, even as they are pledging to love, honor, and cherish until by death they are separated. Are we helping or hurting this trend with our pressure?

Please ease up on the questioning. Your single friends are literally begging you (through me). Singletons are painfully aware of their relationship status. The fact that you’ve noticed, too, is just one more dart aimed at the heart and broken hearts are in no shape to take care in finding real love.

A lost, forgetful, and blessed morning. Who would have thought it?

This morning, my husband (who left the house early) called to tell me that it was raining so I grabbed my rain boots and shoes and put them in the living room until I could get dressed. I threw my shoes into my purse, placed a bag of cookies for a friend on top and realized I couldn't find my phone. I delicately removed the cookies and then my shoes to see if the phone was in my purse. It wasn't. I put the cookies back in my purse and shuffled about trying to find it.

When I found it (so close to my purse I could just scream), I grabbed it and ran out of the door where I got into my car, which I haven't driven in months, and discovered that not only is my inspection up this month but also, I was sitting on E. I prayed for the ability to make it to school on what I had left in the tank. Well, what I didn't count on was getting lost on my way to school. Just about the time I realized that I had gone the wrong way and had a "gosh, I hope I can figure this out from here" thought, I also realized that my shoes were on the floor next to the couch and I would be wearing my rain boots all day long.

When I got to the turnpike, I thought "I'm saved! I can turn right and all is well with the world!" but it wasn't. I ended up at the Target near my house. 20 minutes of driving, a gas gauge on E, and I'm back at the Target in my neighborhood. I hopped onto the turnpike access road and made a U-turn. Let me make a confession to you: I've run out of gas before. Twice. On different highways. This would be my third run-out-of-gas-as-cars-whip-past-you-so-fast-you-can't-think-straight experience but it would be the first time it happened - when? You guessed it! When it was raining.

So I've already called people to let them know I'll be late because I've made an idiot mistake in my neighborhood and I've called my husband who, for a moment, thought I was by the Target across from the Wal-Mart which is really, really close to the school and actually in the neighborhood we lived in before we moved into our house. He must have been quite distracted because surely that wasn't a panic-inducing incident. And since I've called everyone else, I call out to God and ask him this time to just let me make it to a gas station because I've already pushed my luck with the getting to work idea. I know this.

I keep chanting "God will provide! God will provide! God will provide!" And you know what? He did. I made it to the gas station just in time. Of course, it wasn't without incident because that's just the kind of day I was having. Thankfully it was just that the first pump was shut off and I eeeked my poor neglected car around to the next one. (Remind me sometime to tell you about the time I got gas all over my pants on my way to Austin.)

So I roll into the parking lot at work, gassed up enough to make it to work, the after work meeting, and my house again later, and I am thankful to God for bringing me there safely, albeit late.

But the story isn't over. As crazy as my morning was, as inexplicable as it is that I somehow made a big loop in my neighborhood (I still need to check out a map) and wound up late, as awesome as it is that I made it to a gas station before my car went kaput, it gets better.

I believe that God has us where we are for a reason. Sometimes the reason is hard to find. Sometimes, it is smack dab in front of our faces. Well, like I said, it was raining this morning. I hurried to the door as it was closing but a girl opened it wider for me. There was another girl whom she was helping into the building. This girl uses special crutches on a daily basis every day of her life. Today, they couldn't gain traction for anything because of all of the water and the girl fell right in front of me. The helper girl and I hoisted her up onto her crutches again and walked a little bit further with her. She fell again. This time she hurt herself. The helper girl looked helpless and I had to act fast. I didn't want the girl to stand up again because she just kept falling down. I asked Helper Girl to stay with her and I went to get the nurse to bring her a wheelchair.

If I hadn't been there, it is possible that the helper girl would have gone to do the same thing but then the crutched girl would have to sit there, hurting, all alone.

I know that some of you will say I was just at the right place at the right time and maybe that's true but I can't shake the feeling that it was God's time and God's plan for me to be there to help this girl. And if that's the case, then whatever I went through today was totally worth it because I was there to help one of His creatures and that's all we can ever hope to do in this world. Help one another.

Mrs. V

PS - Though I was dejected that I would be wearing my rain boots all day, I got quite a few compliments. :)