This week's verbal highlights while taking a boisterous schedule of Years 3, 4, 5, 7, 9 10 and 12.
Me: (Counting down) "One...one half...one quarter...one eighth...one sixteenth...one-thirty-twoth."
Me: "I'm more of an Angry Birds kind of girl."
Student: "If Mr X isn't here and you need to go, will you leave us all alone?"("us" = a class of 25 active Year Sevens)
Me: "No."
Student: "Why not?"
Me: "Because you might get lonely."
Me: "I haven't done any biology since 1991...were you alive in 1991?"
Me: "Here - let me babysit your phone for you. I'm sure it won't get up to mischief and play games while I look after it."
Me: "Have you ever been to New York? Would you like to go to New York?"
Me to meowing students: "You sound like you should be in Drama rather than English."
Student: "Can we do drama?"
Me: "No."
Me: "I am going to go to sleep tonight to the sound of myself saying 'ssssshhhhhhh'."
Me: "Enough of the belly thing."
Me: "I'm sure your maths brain is more active than mine."
Me: "I might need to add your cards to my card collection."
Student: "Do you have a card collection?"
Me: "No, but I've love to start one with your cards right there."
Me: "Chicken Souvlaki? I want souvlaki!"
Me: "Today I am living my dream - I am angel with long blonde hair."
Friday, May 31, 2013
Thursday, May 30, 2013
These Secondary Boys Have a Good Point
Today I heard a consistent answer to the request of: "Please do your work."
Although I must admit that I didn't literally ask many students to "do your work" as it is rarely immediately effective by itself.
Instead I pointed out to one Year 9 boy that he would most likely prefer to look at pictures of Mustangs on the internet at home and do his assignment in class, than look at cars in class and have to end up doing his assignment as homework. (ie: Do your assignment).
And I pointed out to a Year 12 boy that he didn't need the laptop for his practice assessment task, and he should finish the task first and then use the laptop for his research. (ie: Do your practice assessment task).
And I pointed out to some Year 7 boys (is it always boys?) that they should probably have their workbooks open if they were to write some answers out for the revision questions. (ie: Do your revision questions).
And I am sure there are other things I said along a similar vein...but in each of these cases the boys all replied with the same response: "Good point".
And then they changed their behaviour to begin the set tasks.
I thought nothing of the phrase until I realised how many times I was hearing it, and how consistently it was being followed by the desired response.
"Good point, Miss. Good point."
A simple phrase, but one that allowed the student to switch from less desirable behaviour to what they should be doing without having to argue, be embarrassed, or feel negative or discouraged from having been redirected.
The phrase is so simple, and it was delivered so simply each time, that it allowed something that could have become an issue or a battle of wills to become gracefully - and simply - resolved.
And I now wonder how many times I am told something and, in spite of its sense, I feel like arguing the point or defending myself...when all I need to do is simply say: "Good point" and move on.
(And I wonder why that student who decided to engage in an argument over a simple instruction rather than just do as I asked couldn't have simply said: "Good point" and moved on).
And I also wonder what I will learn the next time I go to school - even though they call me the teacher.
Although I must admit that I didn't literally ask many students to "do your work" as it is rarely immediately effective by itself.
Instead I pointed out to one Year 9 boy that he would most likely prefer to look at pictures of Mustangs on the internet at home and do his assignment in class, than look at cars in class and have to end up doing his assignment as homework. (ie: Do your assignment).
And I pointed out to a Year 12 boy that he didn't need the laptop for his practice assessment task, and he should finish the task first and then use the laptop for his research. (ie: Do your practice assessment task).
And I pointed out to some Year 7 boys (is it always boys?) that they should probably have their workbooks open if they were to write some answers out for the revision questions. (ie: Do your revision questions).
And I am sure there are other things I said along a similar vein...but in each of these cases the boys all replied with the same response: "Good point".
And then they changed their behaviour to begin the set tasks.
I thought nothing of the phrase until I realised how many times I was hearing it, and how consistently it was being followed by the desired response.
"Good point, Miss. Good point."
A simple phrase, but one that allowed the student to switch from less desirable behaviour to what they should be doing without having to argue, be embarrassed, or feel negative or discouraged from having been redirected.
The phrase is so simple, and it was delivered so simply each time, that it allowed something that could have become an issue or a battle of wills to become gracefully - and simply - resolved.
And I now wonder how many times I am told something and, in spite of its sense, I feel like arguing the point or defending myself...when all I need to do is simply say: "Good point" and move on.
(And I wonder why that student who decided to engage in an argument over a simple instruction rather than just do as I asked couldn't have simply said: "Good point" and moved on).
And I also wonder what I will learn the next time I go to school - even though they call me the teacher.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Faux Bonus Time
As an emergency teacher I have to be prepared to drop everything and go to work at very short notice.
Like last Tuesday when the phone rang at 7:50am for an 8:20am start.
Luckily I had an outfit chosen already. A shame about lunch though, as a peanut butter sandwich was all I could throw together at the last minute and then I became too paranoid to bring it out to eat at our NON nut-free school lest I inadvertently give someone an anaphylactic fit.
So when it gets to 8am and the phone hasn't rung and it dawns on me that I do not have to go to work, it feels like I have a bonus day off. And my mind starts imagining all the amazing things that I can do.
Like today, where I'm going to use my faux bonus (child-free) time to make a few more outfits for work. I've worked two days this term and already exhausted my working winter wardrobe.
Like last Tuesday when the phone rang at 7:50am for an 8:20am start.
Luckily I had an outfit chosen already. A shame about lunch though, as a peanut butter sandwich was all I could throw together at the last minute and then I became too paranoid to bring it out to eat at our NON nut-free school lest I inadvertently give someone an anaphylactic fit.
So when it gets to 8am and the phone hasn't rung and it dawns on me that I do not have to go to work, it feels like I have a bonus day off. And my mind starts imagining all the amazing things that I can do.
Like today, where I'm going to use my faux bonus (child-free) time to make a few more outfits for work. I've worked two days this term and already exhausted my working winter wardrobe.
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