Learn Me Gooder

Later, I moved from ancient history to current events. During our planning period, Mrs. Bird showed me some of the kids’ recent work. She has been going over different writing styles, and last week was focused on newspaper articles. At the end of the week, she had the kids choose a topic and write a persuasive article along with a title and byline. There was “Give us more recess!” by Tyler, “No more dress code,” by Smoker Anna, and “Free cupcakes every day,” by Cerulean. The best title has to go to Clarisa, though, who had written an article requesting healthier food in the cafeteria. She titled her article “Eat some of this.”

I got to talk to Clarisa later in the day, but it wasn’t about her article. We had just come inside from the playground, and I was standing by the kids who were waiting in line to use the restroom. (Is it just me, or does the afternoon bathroom break seem to be a mystical vortex for funny stories?)

Clarisa and Betsy were both giggling and casting glances in my direction, so I asked what was up. I wondered if they had seen me at the Taco Bell again with someone else.

Betsy whispered something in Clarisa’s ear, then Clarisa giggled again and said, “Jenny likes you.”

Jenny is a little girl in Miss Palmerstein’s class, and she’s a little spitfire. I chose to play obtuse.

“Oh, really?” I replied. “I like her too. She’s a very friendly third grader.”

Betsy shook her head while Clarisa, with a puzzled look on her face, continued, “No, she doesn’t like you as a teacher.”

Barely withholding a grin, I responded, “She doesn’t like me as a teacher? You mean she thinks I’m a bad teacher?”

At that, the girls exchanged looks, then Betsy clicked her tongue and declared, “He doesn’t get it.”

It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. I was already holding back giggles after seeing what was on the wall between the boys’ and girls’ restrooms.

Over the weekend, I had given my kids a chance for extra credit in science class. I asked them to take a piece of paper and make a poster about the importance of conserving our planet’s resources.

My favorite was Lex’s who had drawn some pictures of light bulbs and televisions and written, “Saving electricity is when you turn off everything that takes electricity and if you don’t and go to church for five hours, the next day, you will get electric bill and you have to pay money. If you do turn off the lights and TV, you will not have to pay money.”

Don’t I wish!

But back to what was really making me laugh. Mrs. Bird had apparently gotten her hands on the poster that Shelly had made and decided to put it near the restrooms for all to see.

Shelly took something I had said last week very literally. Her poster had a big green triangle of arrows, like the universal recycling symbol. At the top corner of the triangle was a picture of a smiling child. At one of the bottom corners was a picture of a water fountain, and at the other corner was a picture of a toilet. Underneath all of this was the bold statement, “Mister Woodson told us that the water in the toilet is clean water when you flush the toilet it goes to a machine and it cleans the water so you can drink it.”

The good news is that most of my kids don’t pay any attention to things hanging on the wall, so I probably won’t have to worry about kids actually drinking from the toilet. The bad news is that I might be getting some phone calls from parents regarding my teaching style.

At any rate, I think we can be thankful that Abraham Lincoln is not alive to see any misunderstanding that may arise from this poster. I can’t be so sure about Bill somebody, though.

Later dude,



Mellow Yellow



Date: Wednesday, March 31, 2010





To: Fred Bommerson



From: Jack Woodson



Subject: Fighting and hurling and cussing, oh my!!



Hey buddy,



I’m holding you personally responsible for what I’m calling the Reverse Spam Bomb I received this morning. I’ve dubbed it Reverse Spam because instead of thousands of people getting the exact same email from a single source, I’m the one person who received the exact same email from multiple sources.

I got a one sentence message – “What’s this I hear about you telling kids they can drink from the toilet?” – from Winter, Latya, Larry, Tiffany, and about ten others! Quite the coordinated effort you put into this, and I commend you. I should point out, though, that April Fool’s Day is TOMORROW.

Not that my kids need some arbitrary date to act like fools. I have to wonder if it’s possible to have a full moon in the middle of the afternoon. My kids were absolutely, off-the-wall INSANE today! No, no, I take that back. It actually started yesterday. At least the two third graders who had to go home suspended because they brought toy guns to school weren’t in my class. But I was one of the teachers who had to confront them about it. Then, after school, just as they were about to get on the school buses and go home, two of my kids got into a fistfight.

My day today started with me dealing with these two wannabe pugilists. One of them, to absolutely no one’s surprise, was Marshawn. I don’t think this kid could walk by a cloister of nuns without provoking at least one of them to attack him. The other student, Franco, is certainly not my best behaved, but usually not prone to actual physical violence. However, according to all eyewitness accounts, the two of them were out there punching each other in the face. Franco, who is tall but scrawny, actually had the much larger Marshawn in a headlock, and was jabbing him in the nose. Marshawn, meanwhile, was pulling some sort of Matrix-like contortions, and reaching back over his shoulder to punch Franco.

As a result, they have both been suspended for the next three days, and we put them in different rooms for today. That brings us up to about 8:15 a.m. A wonderful time of the morning to regurgitate your breakfast all over the floor. At least that’s what Kevin thought. Not really wanting a reenactment of the dinner scene from Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life (“Better get a bucket”), I decided to take the rest of my class for a walk around the school while the custodian came to clean up the mess.

After lunch, I had a near-crisis on my hands when Ella told me that Lex had said “the S-word” to her. She looked positively shell-shocked, and I was already mentally gearing myself up to be angry with Lex. I figured that I ought to be sure of all the details first, though, so I asked Ella a few questions.

“What exactly did he say to you?” I asked.

“He pointed at us and laughed!” she declared. “Then he said the S-word!”

“What S-word? Can you whisper it to me? You won’t be in trouble.” I tried to reassure her, but at my request to hear the offensive term, Ella clamped both hands over her mouth and swiveled her head wildly.

“OK, then can you tell me what it rhymes with?” I expected her to say “bit,” or “quit,” or “barbecue pit,” but I think my question merely confused her.

Then I had a flash of insight. I was suddenly able to view the situation from the perspective of a third grader, and I realized that what you and I automatically associate with “the S-word” might not be the case here.

“Did he call you stupid?” I asked, with my new awareness. Ella, still with hands clamped tightly over her mouth, nodded her head up and down vigorously.

Mystery solved, case closed.

I know that “stupid” is a derogatory word, but I do think Ella was reacting a bit in the extreme. Sure, I prosecuted Lex to the fullest extent of the law, but it’s not like he yelled OUR “S-word” at her.

Having said that, I will admit that I have learned not to use the word “stupid” around the kids. Mainly because they do tend to treat it like a horrendous curse word. I always use the word “foolish” instead.

So as you can see, I’ve cleverly substituted the “F-word” for the “S-word.”

My kids aren’t the only ones acting out this week. At our after school meeting on Monday, I was sitting next to Mrs. Fitzgerald in the cafeteria when she directed my attention to a box of supplies sitting over in the corner. She said, “Look at that box, and see if you can guess what my kids were calling each other today.”

I scanned the printing on the box – “Napkins, cups, black sporks, trays.”

Would you believe I guessed correctly? Her kids were calling each other black sporks!! These kids will grab at anything to put each other down!

We spent the rest of the meeting coming up with our own list of things the kids could call each other to REALLY burn.



Yellow Highlighter

Late Homework

Sticky Note

Dirty Overhead Transparency

Outlying Data

Adopted Curriculum





I think being called any of these things would be a major blow to the ego, but I guess none of them even come close to calling someone a spork.

OH SNAP!!

Talk to you later,



Stu Pidass



Date: Thursday, April 8, 2010





To: Fred Bommerson



From: Jack Woodson



Subject: Whack-a-mole





Hey Fred,



Apparently my list of nasty words for third graders either touched a nerve or got some creative juices flowing, because I’ve received several emails from your esteemed colleagues calling me names. Winter called me a Defective Widget. Larry insinuated that I was a Cracked Ceramic. Tiffany said I had Worn Out Tooling.

It’s ok, though. My feelings weren’t hurt. I just called them all Big Fat Solder Blobs.

Once more, my classroom has become the revolving door. My latest ward, Marshawn, has left our fine school for better and brighter things. After returning from suspension on Tuesday, he was right back to his usual tricks – cussing at other kids, spouting nonsense, and sleeping in class. He had saved his craziest bon mots for Mrs. Bird, though. See if you can guess which one of these statements Marshawn did NOT share with Mrs. Bird and her class over the past couple of days:



A) “My dad is in jail!”

B) “My granny hit her head on a log and died, and her body is in the closet!”

C) “My mom puts Benadryl in my juice!”

D) “My family appreciates kind gestures, floral-scented potpourri, and breakfast in bed!”



If you said anything other than D, you are a Corroded Wingnut.

I’m sure Marshawn will be all right, though. After all, there are kids everywhere for him to call fat asses and no shortage of toilets to go berserk on. In much sadder news, I also lost another student yesterday, and she was one of my favorites. Tiny Anna, who is a very friendly and bright girl, brought in withdrawal papers yesterday. At first, I told her I wouldn’t sign them, but of course I had no choice. Her family is moving to Lancaster, which isn’t all that far from here, but it’s far enough to put her in another school. Maybe once she gets to her new school, her mother will allow her to obtain a pair of forbidden glasses.

Losing a sweetheart stinks, but losing a maniac isn’t too bad. However, Marshawn’s replacement, who arrived yesterday, makes Marshawn look like an upright, responsible member of society.

This new kid showed up with his father around 1:00 yesterday. He literally looked like something the cat had dragged in. He had on a T-shirt that looked like it had been turned inside out, his whole face looked filthy, and the whites of his eyes were much more yellowish than white.

His name is Marcus, and the first things out of his father’s mouth were that Marcus is a troublemaker, he got suspended at his old school a lot, and that “he might try to run away from you.”

Great! So now I’m what, Agent Girard from The Fugitive??

“What I need from each and every one of you teachers is a hard target search of every classroom, break room, bathroom, book room, and store room within a 10 mile radius.”

Marcus didn’t try to run away today, but he certainly did get under my nerves. For a kid who’s four-foot-nothing, he’s got more attitude than a Jersey Shore cast member. Some teachers are able to ignore disrespect and rudeness and move on, but I’ve always been stubborn. I have a real problem with little kids who ignore me and/or talk back.

My mood was worsened at around 2:30 today. I had pulled my new friend out into the hallway to have a chat. He had written a really nasty note in his math journal and was flashing it at all the kids around him. I thought it would be helpful to point out a few things to him.



1) The math journals are for – surprise! – math problems and not for starting fights.

2) I have 20/20 vision and can thus see everything he does in class.

3) There are better strategies to make friends at a new school than writing threatening notes.

4) The word “kill” (in his note, several times) has TWO L’s.



I didn’t seem to be getting through to Marcus, judging by the way he was rolling his eyes and over-sighing. Then Roy’al, from Mrs. Frisch’s class, walked by. I don’t know exactly why he was out in the hallway or where he was going. He might have been going to the special ed portable. He might have been delivering a message to the office. He might have been on his way to set a fire in the custodian’s closet.

What I do know is that as he walked by me, he was muttering obscenities JUST loudly enough to be sure I heard them. What a prince.

I called out to him to come back to where I was, but he kept walking. I raised my voice and told him to stop, but he kept walking. I pulled out my magic wand, pointed it at him, and shouted, “PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!!” All to no avail.

(Just so you know, the Extreme Fundamentalist Christians have got it all wrong – Harry Potter does NOT in fact teach you how to cast spells.)

I suppose if there’s any good news to this story, it’s that Marcus gained a new role model today, someone he can admire and emulate. And no, I’m not talking about me.

I wrote a referral on Roy’al, and he’ll be suspended on Monday and Tuesday. I also grabbed a stack of referrals to have on hand, because I foresee needing plenty more before the year is out.

Benadryl in the juice, eh? That’s something to consider.

Talk to you later,



Unhappy Gilmore



Date: Tuesday, April 13, 2010





To: Fred Bommerson



From: Jack Woodson



Subject: It’s not rocket surgery!



Hey Fred,



Easy for you to say that you’ll miss Marshawn, since you never had to deal with him. The kid was only present in my class for fourteen days, but it seemed like two years!

Marcus may prove to be much worse, especially if he starts following Roy’al’s lead. By the way, I think you’re right. Next time I need to get Roy’al to stop and listen, I’ll shout, “Look! Defenseless kittens!” That should get his attention.

At least I have one thing in my favor in terms of the new kid. Marcus is apparently the smart one in his family. He has two first grade sisters – twins – in Miss Phelps’ class, and she says neither of them can even write their own name.

I can’t devote all my energy to Marcus right now, because with the TAKS test fast approaching, I am banging my head against the wall with some of the other children. I still have kids subtracting 10 and 4 and getting 14. I still have kids that think their pencil is 8 miles long. I still have kids adding a dollar and a nickel and getting 6 cents. Or sometimes 6 dollars.

Not only do their actions not make sense, but sometimes their words don’t even make sense! Franco encountered a problem this afternoon and blurted out, “Man, that’s hard! That’s harder than a turtle!”

I wanted to reply, “No way, it’s easy! It’s easier than elevator music!” Instead, I let the mixed metaphor slide.

Victor still can’t remember his shape names. I quizzed him today, and he couldn’t tell me the name of an 8-sided figure. I tried to give him a hint – “What’s the animal that lives in the ocean and has eight legs?”

Without any hesitation, Victor nodded, looked me in the eyes, and answered confidently, “A squid.”

NO!! Well, I mean, technically, yes, he gave a correct answer to that question, but NO!! There’s no such thing as a squidagon!!

I’m at that point where some teachers might just throw in the towel and show movies all day. I’ll admit, I’ve thought about it. Maybe a continuous loop of “The Lion King 3 7/8: Simba Swallows His Pride.”

But I’m not a quitter. I’m not a giver-upper. I AM willing to modify my techniques. Therefore, I have decided that I shall henceforth teach in the style of Mr. Noodle, from Elmo’s World.

My nephew Kyle is a HUGE fan of Elmo and Mr. Noodle. They’re both relatively new additions to Sesame Street, so I don’t think they were around when your son was that age. I should probably explain what I’m talking about.

Mr. Noodle is a character that (seemingly) lives in Elmo’s window and has a very unique style of interpreting questions. Allow me to give you an example.

Elmo will roll up the shade, “waking” Mr. Noodle (the similarities to a peep show booth stop, for the most part, there). Elmo will then ask Mr. Noodle about whatever the topic of the day is. Swimming, cows, badgies, whatever. If the topic of the day is footwear, Elmo may say, “Mr. Noodle, how do you put on your shoes?”

Mr. Noodle will then do something outrageously stupid like putting a shoe in his mouth, making Elmo wonder if he has an IQ below 30.

At this point, a group of unseen kids will join the fray, shouting from off camera, “NOOOOO, that’s not right, Mr. Noodle!!”

The Noodle will then do something only slightly less “touched,” such as putting the shoes down his pants. Again, the kids will patiently yell, “NOOOOO, Mr. Noodle! Shoes don’t go there!”

Typically, Mr. Noodle will perform a third troglodytic act, maybe balancing a shoe on his head. At this point, we’re all waiting to hear the kids shout, “Are you EFFING SH!TTING me???” but they always seem to be inhumanly restrained.

Elmo himself will ultimately have to demonstrate the correct way to put on shoes.

That’s enough of the Wikipedia article about Elmo’s World. The point I’m getting at is that I am going to reverse my whole teaching style and try to Noodle it up a bit more. No more probing questions for accurate answers. Instead, when we talk about perimeter, I’m going to randomly make tally marks then wait for the kids to realize that I’m doing the wrong thing and shout, “NOOOOO!” at me. Then I’ll start dividing a circle into wedges until they shout at me again.

Maybe I will have more success with this technique than ever before.

I read an article the other day about how schools across the country are taking one move towards Noodlehood. They’ve gotten it in their collective heads that a great way to start making fiscal cuts is to do away with school libraries.

Your first thought may be, “But where will Colonel Mustard kill Mr. Boddy with the Lead Pipe?” Don’t worry, the article didn’t say anything about budget cuts to Billiard Rooms.

Let’s just remove a giant resource and wealth of literature from children in their formative years. Sounds like a plan worthy of Mr. Noodle, indeed.

Now I’m going to send this email by touching my monitor with my nose. If that doesn’t work, I’ll turn around three times in my swivel chair and hoot like an owl.

Later,



Dumb Perignon



Date: Friday, April 16, 2010





To: Fred Bommerson



From: Jack Woodson



Subject: The Clash of the Cretins





Hey buddy,



It is indeed a great time to travel. I’m sure Boston in April is fantastic. Not that you’ll get to see a whole heck of a lot of it next week, stuck in customer meetings. I would advise you to refrain from channeling Mr. Noodle during any of those meetings. I have to admit, though, I did snort at your line about licking a heat pump if anyone asked how it works.

Can you ask Paul if he can spring for an extra ticket so I can go to Boston with you guys? There are a few kids here that I could really stand to get away from for a few days, weeks, or lifetimes.

My newest charge, Marcus, is not doing much to endear himself to me. He is blatantly disrespectful, he lies, and I think he may be withholding information about Jimmy Hoffa’s whereabouts.

As we switched classes today, I was standing by my door greeting the students, and I couldn’t help but notice the top of Marcus’s head. He’s about half my height, so I had no problem getting a full view of his noggin. He’s got really short hair to begin with, not quite shaved but almost, and carved into what little hair there was, right on the top of the sphere, were the letters J.D.

Please keep in mind that this kid’s name starts with an M, which is neither a J nor a D. When I asked him who had written on top of his head, he immediately replied, “Nobody.”

Not believing for an instant that his hair naturally grows like that, I tried to press him for more information, but, as usual, he wouldn’t tell me anything. Mrs. Bird had a little more luck later in the day. She told me that when she had asked Marcus about his newest ‘do, he told her that a friend had done it to display his nickname.

Here I thought he was selling out his melon as a JD Powers billboard. But no, it was intended to be DJ, not JD. The boy’s self-appointed nickname is “DJ Cool.”

In my opinion, DJ Dyslexic would be more like it.

Later, I had to leave a message with Marcus’ father about a little outburst he had right after recess.

On most days, I let the kids enter my classroom as soon as they are done using the restroom, rather than waiting until the entire class is done. That way, they get a little more time to work on the word problem that day. Except for the stragglers like Cerulean, who always takes about fifteen minutes to use the bathroom. Which I encourage her to do. Of course.

On Fridays, though, the kids don’t do a word problem since they have tests to take, so instead of having them enter the classroom, I told the first couple of kids to just line up in the hallway outside my room.

By the time Marcus came out of the restroom, there were already about eight or nine kids sitting quietly in line by my door. Mrs. Bird was down at that end of the hall near our classrooms, and I was monitoring the bathrooms at the other end. A moment later, Marcus came running back to ask me, “Do we go in the room?”

I looked around the corner and pointed out the kids sitting in the hallway. “Don’t you see the line down there?” I asked him. “You need to be in that line.”

Five or six minutes later, when the last child was done, I rounded the corner to rejoin my class. But the line was gone. Mrs. Bird was there with her class, but my door was open and my kids were inside. Furthermore, the overhead machine was on, and the science test was being displayed.

I asked Mrs. Bird why the kids had gone inside, and she looked surprised and said that Marcus had told her that I had told him to lead the class in. He had told her that I had instructed him to, “Go in and cut the overhead on.”

She added that it didn’t really sound like something I would say, but that he had insisted.

I called him out into the hallway for questioning. Amazingly, he stuck with his story, including my odd choice of words.

It’s one thing to be caught in a white lie. But to stand there face-to-face (or in our case, face-to-belt-buckle) and actually be angry that I was contradicting his story is quite another thing. He got so mad, in fact, that at one point, he stormed back to his desk, screaming the whole way. Not a scream with words, just a primal blast that rose in pitch. Mrs. Bird and I exchanged glances that clearly said, “What the –??!?” Most of the kids in the room had a similar expression.

That’s when I made the phone call and left a message with his dad. Then he and I had another conversation in the hall. When I mentioned the screaming, he immediately rebuffed me. “I didn’t scream!”

“Yes, when you went back to your desk, you were screaming. Everyone heard you.”

Marcus rolled his eyes and asked, in an incredibly sarcastic tone, “Really? Everyone??”

As he stared defiantly at me, I practiced my deep breathing techniques. Finally, when my teeth unclenched, I stated again, “I don’t appreciate your screaming when I’m trying to talk to you.”

Again, he claimed, “I wasn’t screaming!”

“What do you call what you were doing then?” I asked him.

“I was yelling.”

I must have stared at him for two full minutes while my brain filtered through a myriad of things I couldn’t say, couldn’t do, shouldn’t even be thinking. I had to bite down on my tongue, hard, not to call him a spork. Eventually, what came out was, “I’m looking forward to hearing back from your father.”

On top of this little thorn in my side, I have a new student in the same class as of yesterday. This little girl, Gloria, has been at the school all year long and has been a real headache for two of the other third grade teachers. Last week, she upped the ante a bit, throwing a crayon at Mrs. Frisch and punching Mrs. Fitzgerald in the arm. That’s right, she punched a teacher. After three days of suspension, she returned to school, displaced into another third-grade classroom. I guess Mrs. Forest felt Mrs. Bird and I would not mind dodging crayons or being punched repeatedly.

Gloria was relatively well behaved for both of us yesterday, and she didn’t have any major flare-ups today, but I’ve had interactions with this girl before, and I know her temperament. The worst part is that she seems to have developed a real bond with DJ Clueless. Maybe it’s the head inscription, maybe it’s the disregard for rules, maybe it’s the complete illiteracy. Whatever the reason, they’re tight.

Lord help us all.

Seriously, I’m going to be checking my email all weekend for permission to go to Boston with you.

Later,



Jimmy Outtaheer



Date: Tuesday, April 20, 2010





To: Fred Bommerson



From: Jack Woodson



Subject: He has the nuclear codes AND the answer key?



Hey bud,



Yeah, I didn’t really think Paul would come through with an extra ticket. And your point is absolutely valid – these kids probably WOULD kill a substitute in my absence. I just can’t have that on my conscience.

So how’s the trip? Have you been able to shave P.R. into Ron Philby’s hair yet? That would make for some interesting discussions around the table at your plant visits.

Well, while you’re having a blast touring New England, I can’t dodge the fact that the TAKS test is next week! This is most likely the reason my heart is pounding, I can’t feel my toes, and my stomach feels like a troop of armored butterflies has taken up permanent residence.

I can’t help but notice that an uncomfortably large number of my students are still filling in bubbles very carelessly and sloppily on multiple choice tests. They know that they need to neatly fill in one bubble for each question, yet some of them turn in tests where their answer choices look like they were made while having an epileptic seizure during an earthquake.

It occurred to me that the kids might not know that a machine would be scoring their tests. A heartless, soulless machine that won’t care if all of the correct steps were followed to find the answer; only that the correct bubble was filled in neatly and completely.

Skynet’s most ruthless creation wasn’t the killer cyborg Terminators. It was the test-grading machines in Austin, Texas.

Before telling them about this, I asked the kids who THEY thought would be grading their tests. This made for a very interesting give-and-take.



Me: “Who do you think is going to grade your TAKS tests?”

Ava: “The teacher?”

Me: “Nope.”

Mickey: “You?”

Me: “Uh, I AM the teacher, so STILL no.”

Big Jack: “Mrs. Bird?”

Me: “Seriously??”

Tyler: “No, she IS the teacher, so still NO!”

Mia: “You a GOOD teacher!”

Me: “OK, thanks, but let’s get this back to the question.”

DaQuayvius: “The principal?”

Me: “No.”

Temperance: “The President?”



None of the kids knew that it wouldn’t be a person grading their tests, and one actually thought President Barrack Obama would be taking time out of his busy schedule to pick up a red pen and score thousands of TAKS! Forget the mess of our economy, never mind the whole international politics scene – give the guy a key to the 3rd grade math test, and put him to work!

The kids were stunned to discover that a machine would be grading their tests. A few equated “machine” to “robot” and asked if it had a name. I told them it was “Grady McSparksalot.” I can only hope that this translates into neater, cleaner bubbling.

After our discussion, we got back into review mode. This whole week is devoted to reviewing everything we’ve covered so far this year. We began this morning with some quick hits on weight and measurement. Weight is such an abstract concept for the kids. They know that anything heavier than a car should be measured in tons and that anything lighter than a loaf of bread should be measured in ounces. But in between those two benchmarks, there is a vast abyss of confusion.

When I told them that I weigh 200 pounds, there was a class-wide reaction that suggested they thought I was heavier than a whale. In an effort to show that heavy does not necessarily mean morbidly obese, I brought up Shaquille O’Neal, who weighs close to 300 pounds.

Lance only heard the first syllable of the name and looked excitedly around the room as he purred, “Oooooh, Shakira! I LIKE Shakira!!”

I like your thinking, kid, but c’mon, let’s try to focus, OK?

Moving on to capacity, when I asked the kids how many quarts were in a gallon, most of them remembered! More than a few even shouted, “May the quarts be with you!”

YES!!

Knowing that one of my mnemonics had worked, I was emboldened to try another. This time, I had one for symmetry (or cemetery, as my kids say).

First I asked who liked the movie Toy Story. Unsurprisingly, everyone raised their hands (including me). Then I double checked to make sure that they knew who Buzz Lightyear was. They did.

Finally I said, “Now remember that part in the movie where he shouts ‘To the SYMMETRY and beyond!’ And then he hits the little red button on his chest, and his wings pop up, exactly the same on both sides, just like he has a line of symmetry!”

Naturally, the kids’ first reaction was to argue with me – “THAT’S not what he says!!!”

Still, they thought it was pretty funny, and I heard several kids repeat it a few times throughout the class period.

During recess, I asked a couple of the kids to show Mrs. Bird our new way of remembering symmetry, and nearly every one of them proudly shouted, “May the fourths be with you!”

Pass the Tylenol.

I guess I can use this in tomorrow’s review of fractions – ½ of our silly memory devices have been retained!

I’ll talk to you later,



Buzz Slightfear



Date: Thursday, April 22, 2010





To: Fred Bommerson



From: Jack Woodson



Subject: Drillin’ like a villain





Hey man,