You may recall that some of you first met Grace about two years ago and then again last year and then again again last year. And all was quiet, and I guess I got comfortable and let my guard down because apparently Grace somehow managed to escape again. Thank goodness she didn't get out last weekend when the whole family was here! I think she escaped sometime early Tuesday morning and since then has created an avalanche of chaos and clumsiness, turning my orderly, predictable and somewhat OCD world completely upside down.
Monday night, I went and bought candy to give out as prizes for the top students in my classes.
Tuesday morning, I carried the candy into work (they were big combo bags of different types of candy), opened the bags and dumped the individual pieces of candy into a giant paper bag. The students earned the candy and all was good. I left the remainder in the bag on the floor in my office.
Wednesday afternoon, after giving out more candy, I reached into the bag myself and was promptly attacked by a GIANT swarm of ants - all red, though some were big and some were little. I quickly dumped the bag into my workroom sink and washed away the ants (although I will say I was quite impressed with the resiliency of those little buggers! They fought well!). As I and McD were drying up the candy we discovered little holes in several of the wrappers. It was so unexpected! I mean, I really didn't think they'd find the candy that quickly.
So, as of Wednesday afternoon I had 6-8 ant bites on my arm. Clumsy? Maybe not, thoughtless? Yes. And that's why I blame Grace.
Also Tuesday evening as I was sitting at home watching tv, I began playing with a giant zit on my left eyebrow. It wasn't like a normal zit, but seemed kind of hard. But I squeezed it and like magic it disappeared! But, nothing came out. And just 10 minutes later, the side of my face around my eye began to swell, making me look as if I had been hit in the head with a baseball bat....or something that leaves a mark when it hits you. Now, this might not seem clumsy, since it involves fine motor control, but still....you'd think that after dealing with acne for over half my life I would have learned by now. Me - 0. Grace 2.
Wednesday morning, I woke up and my face was still swollen, so I wore my hair down and tried to cover it as much as possible. Nobody said anything, so maybe it worked.
Wednesday evening was 8th grade promotion. It was extremely windy ALL day Wednesday and the evening was pretty much the same; dust and pollen were EVERYWHERE!
This morning when I woke up, not only was my eye swollen from the Disappearing Zit, but it was all puffy and weird underneath the eye. Basically it looks like I got beat up by an albino: swollen, but no color. At that point I decided to forget trying to hide it. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, didn't wear any makeup and went. In fact, I was so concerned about it that I wanted my dad to look at it, so I left without even taking a shower! gasp! Whatever. Today was a half day and the teachers were planning on ambushing the students with water guns and balloons as they left for the day, so I knew I'd get wet eventually.
And now, for the Coup de Grâce (interesting how that's spelled, isn't it?):
We did ambush our students and they did get soaking wet (all that pent up frustration from the last 9 months really helped in our warfare and guerilla tactics...), and things went fine. Then McD and I got it in our heads to gang up on another teacher and soak him, which we did. Then another teacher lured us outside into an ambush by 3 other teachers. And we were shooting and ducking and water balloons were flying and then my former 5th grade teacher started aiming water balloons directly at me and I was ducking and dancing away and turned to escape and smacked (top of the head, whereon my sunglasses were perched, first) into an open, metal door. The aforementioned collision caused my sinuses to empty, my ears to pop and I bit through my tongue on the right side (there was blood) and into my cheek on the left (just a blood filled blister there). There isn't a knot on my head, and it doesn't hurt too bad, but it is a little tender.
Here's hoping Grace has gone back into hiding and that she won't make an appearance at tomorrow's district breakfast, which will probably be attended by the Superintendent, et al.
22 May 2008
07 May 2008
The Art of Schooling, High School Style and it's Implications to Middle Schoolers
I have a certain 7th grade student who believes that he is God's gift to the World in general and the Percussion World in particular.
The unfortunate part of this is the fact that he is, indeed, quite talented in the Percussion arena. Now, one might think that having a talented 7th grade percussionist would be anything but unfortunate, and that person would be right, were it not for the incredibly large ego that goes around with said percussionist. It is much easier to work with and teach and train a person who has less talent, but is willing to listen and work hard and learn than it is to try to teach a person who believes he is the best thing since sliced bread.
This student has been giving me grief all year long. Like most percussionists, he is twitchy and incapable of sitting still. He also has an irrepressible personality; He never gives up, and unfortunately is usually quite amusing and charming about it.
This, however, grows old after about the 4th month and I have been immune to this student's charms for some time now. In fact, he has become so annoying of late that I have begun to employ a technique they taught us in college (*gasp!* yes, I'm actually using something I learned!) and trying to get rid of his behavior by ignoring him completely unless he raises his hand and asks a pertinent question. I think it's working because he's getting worse, but it has a tinge of desperation to it as if he can't figure out why he is no longer the center of my attention and he's sure he's going to die if he can't get my attention back on him.
But I digress.
As I was saying, this student has been giving me grief all year. He truly is a better drummer than I. He has an innate sense of timing and is able to play anything I put in front of him (except mallet percussion. He has no desire to play that, so he hasn't bothered to learn it.). Now, don't get me wrong. I am a better musician than he is. I have more musical training and am just better at music than he is. He's just a better drummer.
He doesn't see it that way, however. He feels that drums are the only instrument and has no respect for me because I don't play them. And as a result, he rarely listens to me and feels that he can mouth off any time he wants.
For the last few months, I have been thinking about the day in high school when he will get schooled by a high school drummer and I have been hoping I would be there to witness his downfall.
We have a small Jazz Band performance tomorrow night, and our bass player can't be there, so I recruited a high schooler to help us out. He came in last week and read the music down cold. The middle schoolers were impressed and a little awed (the girls especially. I mean, he's a good looking, older man! What's not to like?). He came back today and we rehearsed the music again and we ended about 10 minutes early. The following then took place:
And as he walked away, I held out my hand for a "five", because after all, this sophomore had just made one of my fondest wishes come true. I had known it was coming, I just didn't think it would come so soon, nor that I would get to witness it.
That same day, in a discussion that began "Miss, I got schooled today", I learned that my 7th grader now plans to "practice his fundamentals". Thank you sophomore. You have accomplished something I have been trying to do for the last 9 months.
The unfortunate part of this is the fact that he is, indeed, quite talented in the Percussion arena. Now, one might think that having a talented 7th grade percussionist would be anything but unfortunate, and that person would be right, were it not for the incredibly large ego that goes around with said percussionist. It is much easier to work with and teach and train a person who has less talent, but is willing to listen and work hard and learn than it is to try to teach a person who believes he is the best thing since sliced bread.
This student has been giving me grief all year long. Like most percussionists, he is twitchy and incapable of sitting still. He also has an irrepressible personality; He never gives up, and unfortunately is usually quite amusing and charming about it.
This, however, grows old after about the 4th month and I have been immune to this student's charms for some time now. In fact, he has become so annoying of late that I have begun to employ a technique they taught us in college (*gasp!* yes, I'm actually using something I learned!) and trying to get rid of his behavior by ignoring him completely unless he raises his hand and asks a pertinent question. I think it's working because he's getting worse, but it has a tinge of desperation to it as if he can't figure out why he is no longer the center of my attention and he's sure he's going to die if he can't get my attention back on him.
But I digress.
As I was saying, this student has been giving me grief all year. He truly is a better drummer than I. He has an innate sense of timing and is able to play anything I put in front of him (except mallet percussion. He has no desire to play that, so he hasn't bothered to learn it.). Now, don't get me wrong. I am a better musician than he is. I have more musical training and am just better at music than he is. He's just a better drummer.
He doesn't see it that way, however. He feels that drums are the only instrument and has no respect for me because I don't play them. And as a result, he rarely listens to me and feels that he can mouth off any time he wants.
For the last few months, I have been thinking about the day in high school when he will get schooled by a high school drummer and I have been hoping I would be there to witness his downfall.
We have a small Jazz Band performance tomorrow night, and our bass player can't be there, so I recruited a high schooler to help us out. He came in last week and read the music down cold. The middle schoolers were impressed and a little awed (the girls especially. I mean, he's a good looking, older man! What's not to like?). He came back today and we rehearsed the music again and we ended about 10 minutes early. The following then took place:
7th grader: "Look what I can do." *proceeds to show off*
10th grader: *takes sticks from 7th grader and shows him up, ever so slightly*
7th grader: *eyes get a little wider* "But look at this cool trick." *shows off again*
10th grader: *takes sticks and shows him up again*
THEN:
10th grader: "do you know your fundamentals? Flams?" *proceeds to do cool tricks using only flams."
7th grader: *eyes the size of saucers*
10th grader: "what about paradiddles?" *proceeds to do cool tricks using only paradiddles."
7th grader: *eyes the size of dinner plates* "But what about this?" *proceeds to do a fairly good (albeit sloppy) snare solo, playing loud and fast, with lots of stick flipping and rim shots*
10th grader: *does amazing snare solo using only fundamentals* *looks at 7th grader* "learn your fundamentals" *hands him back his sticks and walks away.*
And as he walked away, I held out my hand for a "five", because after all, this sophomore had just made one of my fondest wishes come true. I had known it was coming, I just didn't think it would come so soon, nor that I would get to witness it.
That same day, in a discussion that began "Miss, I got schooled today", I learned that my 7th grader now plans to "practice his fundamentals". Thank you sophomore. You have accomplished something I have been trying to do for the last 9 months.
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