Learn Me Gooder

How was your Thanksgiving? Can you believe some people don’t have turkey as part of their holiday dinner? Jill told me that her family always has chicken on Thanksgiving, and that’s just mind-boggling to me. Of course, some people have said that as long as I’m at the table, there will always be a turkey at dinner.

Jill’s family lives near San Antonio, so she went down there for most of last week. After our fantastic first date the week before, I’m a little scared of jinxing things by rushing it, but we’re on for dinner again this Saturday. In the meantime, I have a few tens of munchkins to attend to.

I liked your suggestion for a tattle spray. Something I could spritz onto a kid that would instantly halt their tattling. Sort of like pepper spray, but with less ocular burning.

I also like how you’ve already incorporated my “tattle patsy” idea in your own cubicle. For you, it’s not so much a “tattle” patsy as it is a “long-winded-droning” patsy. Pretty clever to have a portrait of Jimmy Carter hanging on the file cabinet, so that Darrin will have someone to prattle on and on and on to, while you continue working.

I got an interesting gift today. It’s not uncommon for kids to come to school and bring their teachers random little tokens of affection. Usually, it’s near one of the major gift-giving holidays like Christmas, or Valentine’s Day, or Speak Like a Pirate Day, but it can occur at any time really.

In years past, I have received apples, candy, leaves, drawings, and mugs. Today, I received a nutcracker.

When I say nutcracker, I mean a traditional, wooden, looks-like-a-dude-with-really-scary-dentures nutcracker. Thilleenica brought two to school today – one for me and one for Mrs. Bird. She claims to have one more at home, intended for our principal, Mrs. Forest.

My nutcracker is Scottish, as evidenced by his tartan kilt and big fuzzy hat. So I’ve given him a Scottish name – Bubba.

Thilleenica says she just likes her teachers so she wanted to give us a gift. I’m touched by her generosity, but it wouldn’t surprise me at all if Thilleenica came back tomorrow saying, “Um, turns out I wasn’t supposed to give away the family heirlooms.”

Bubba won’t be leaving my classroom any time soon, just in case. Or at least not until Christmas, when his absence might be discovered.

In the meantime, Bubba can serve as a deterrent to any tomfoolery in the class. If anyone acts up, my immediate statement will be, “Gimme your pinkie! Hold it out!” Believe me, you do NOT want to feel the compressive force of those jaws on your little finger! It’s gotta be like 10 PSI!

And if castigation isn’t his strong suit, Bubba can always serve as the tattle patsy I’ve been looking for.

Gifts aside, I was relieved that nobody acted like today was the first day of school, as is sometimes the case after an extended break. We were able to resume where we had left off pretty seamlessly.

Last week was great, though. It’s always so nice to have an entire week off from work. The kids were getting a bit crazy, and having some time away from school often settles them down and lets them come back ready to learn again.

This isn’t the case for everyone, though. Poor Miss Rooker had to deal with a tiny little lunatic today. This kid is in kindergarten and has been raising holy hell all year long. Today was nuts even by his standards, though. She told me the story at our staff meeting after school today.

Something set the boy off pretty early in the morning, and he started throwing crayons at his classmates. Miss Rooker was called to come take him away and talk to him.

She said that normally, she has a good relationship with this child and that he calms down around her. Today, though, it took a while. In her office, the boy ripped up some papers and broke some pencils on her desk. Then he took off his shoe and threw it at her wall, breaking a picture frame.

She finally got him settled down and talking. Apparently, the kid has a horrible home life with a totally messed up mother. He talked, she listened, he cried, he seemed to be ok.

Later, she took him to lunch, where he had another episode. Something must have offended him greatly. Whether it was the color of the lunch ladies’ uniforms or the fact they were serving chicken fingers, we’ll probably never know. Whatever it was, the kid started hurling the chicken strips at the ladies, shouting, “FU@% YOU, CAFETERIA PEOPLE!!!”

The way Miss Rooker told it, the kid shouted this invective with the zest of a hard rocker greeting a rabid crowd. “THANK YOU, SAN BERNADINO SCHOOL FOR COWLICK REMOVAL!!”

I wish I could have been there to see the lunch ladies standing behind the counter, dispassionately staring at this kid as the chicken strips bounced harmlessly off the sneeze guard and right back at him.

Apparently, tossing crayons at classmates did not warrant a suspension, but throwing poultry at adults – while cussing – earned him a two-day stay at home.

Not to sound uncaring, but Thursday – the day he returns – is nacho day, and I hope this kid doesn’t have any issues with liquid cheese sauce. If he has another incident, I might have to loan out my new nutcracker and make an example out of somebody.

Later,



Chuck N McNuggets



Date: Friday, December 4, 2009





To: Fred Bommerson



From: Jack Woodson



Subject: 3rd grade rocks!



Hey bud,



No, I was only kidding about using the nutcracker as a torture device, so please don’t go and call CPS on me. I’m not trying to recreate Goodfellas here. But it HAS been fun having Bubba up on the windowsill at the front of the class.

In the afternoon, when participation is at its lowest, I’ll sometimes remark, “I’ll bet Bubba knows the answer.” Then I entertain myself by counting how many kids actually look at Bubba to see if he’ll answer the question.

And yes, the Chicken Finger Whisperer (tell Tiffany, good one!) is indeed a kindergartener! Must be something in the water supply; they start unraveling early around here.

Lastly, despite what Tom Winter may claim, when I got laid off from Heat Pumps Unlimited, I did NOT mark my exit by shouting, “FU@% YOU, MANUFACTURING PEOPLE!!”

I may have THOUGHT it, but I never vocalized it.

We’re touching on a rocky subject here. But that’s OK, because for the past couple of weeks, our science topic has been rocks. We have studied igneous, sedimentary, and metamorphic – the Big Three. Since we began, the kids have inundated Mrs. Fitzgerald and me with samples from the playground, their homes, and random gravel quarries. They really want us to see all the different kinds they have found, and they present each one so proudly. Flat rocks, smooth rocks, colored rocks, wood chips, shells, chunks of concrete, hard clumps of dirt, half-eaten candy bars from 1988, and then some.

It’s nice of the kids to share their samples with us. My back shelf will soon be full of these rocks and rock-like items. Usually around the time we study leaves at the beginning of the year, my back shelf is filled with different types of leaves that the kids bring in to share with me.

Funny how this phenomenon never happens when we study money.

Speaking of bringing me things, I got another interesting present today. Not to be outdone by Thilleenica and her nutcracker gift, Lakeisha brought me an egg. A no-frills, regular ol’ Grade A egg. I was very tempted to put the egg in Bubba’s jaws, but I thought that might be seen as a cruel dismissal of Lakeisha’s thoughtfulness. Plus, the egg was too big to fit.

Back to our study of rocks, I also talked a bit with the class about volcanoes. Magma and lava are, after all, liquid rock. So today, at around 8:05 (nearly two hours before we do science), Lakeisha motioned me over and said, “I was just going to tell you…” (This is how she begins every statement) “My friend told me that when the world ends, there’s going to be lava everywhere, and most people are going to be dead, and the lava is going to kill them.”

Of course my smart-alecy mouth couldn’t help but respond with, “Really? Lava is going to kill people who are already dead?”

She didn’t seem taken aback and instead replied, “No, there’s still going to be SOME people who are alive, and the lava is going to kill THEM.”

Well then. Good to know.

If I had only been a little quicker on my feet, I could have quizzed Lakeisha with, “And then after the killer lava cools down and solidifies, WHICH type of rock will it be?”

While Lakeisha may be channeling her inner Debbie Downer, another one of my students remains slightly more upbeat. I don’t think I’ve told you about Mia, the little girl who enrolled about a week before Halloween. She’s from Mexico, and she doesn’t speak much English. She’s sweet, but she’s also a little goofy. Whenever I give her a little one-on-one assistance, she has an odd way of affirming my help. Instead of a simple, “Thank you,” or even, “Gracias,” she gets a wide-eyed, almost surprised look on her face, and she shouts, “You a good teacher!” She usually says this loud enough to cause everyone in the room to look up, and she puts emphasis on the word “good.”

“You a GOOD teacher!”

So to everyone throughout the years who has thought I was a BAD teacher, I now present the witness for counter-evidence. BOO-YAH!

Miles also gave me props today, in the form of a drawing of Iron Man. Underneath the picture, it said, “Mr.Woodson – a great teacher!” Above the picture was Miles’ full name and today’s date. I am tempted to add a couple of letters to the drawing and christen this the “Ironic Man” poster, because this is the ONLY time Miles has ever written his name and date on a paper without extensive prompting.

Someone else had names on the brain today as well. Near the end of the day, I was near my door and heard Mrs. Frisch giving a spelling test to one of her kids out in the hallway. She said a word, then used it in a sentence. The student’s priority was supposed to be on writing the word down on paper with the correct spelling. What I heard made me sad for the lack of focus AND cracked me up for its spontaneity all at the same time.



Mrs. Frisch: “The next word is store. Store. John and Tamara went to the store.”

Student: “WHO went?”



Gotta love it. At least she didn’t say, “John and Tamara went to the store and were enveloped by lava.”

Have a great weekend, man.

Talk to you later,



Val Caynic



Date: Tuesday, December 8, 2009





To: Fred Bommerson



From: Jack Woodson



Subject: The Swine Floozies





Hey Fred,



I beg to differ with you, my friend. I actually WAS referred to as a good worker during my stint at HPU – several times, in fact! Strangely enough, it was often by a Hispanic lady named Mia on the assembly line who would shout, “You a GOOD engineer!”

I’d tell you all about my date over the weekend, except that it never happened. Jill sent me an email late Friday saying that she had to cancel. She would have CALLED to tell me that she had to cancel, but she had completely lost her voice.

Sinusitis, my old nemesis, is now going after my potential loved ones. I’ve lost my voice a couple of times over the years, and it makes for some REALLY difficult days. I’ve tried channeling Wiley E Coyote, writing instructions on dry erase boards and holding them up, but the kids look at the board in confusion as if I’ve written hieroglyphics. I’ve tried pantomiming instructions, but it was like having the worst teammates ever in a game of charades.



Me: [acting out opening a book and turning pages]

Kids: “Ooooh, I know this one!”

“Throw crayons!”

“Jump up and down on my chair!”

“Punch my neighbor!!”



At any rate, I feel for Jill, but we’ve been texting back and forth, and she seems to be recovering well. Hopefully, we’ll be able to go out this weekend.

I guess it’s that cold and illness time of the year, a time when the sniffles get snifflier, the sneezes get sneezier, and the coughs get wetter and hackier. This is the time that justifies the “2 boxes of Kleenex” line on the school supply list.

If I didn’t remain vigilant, my kids could easily go through a box of tissues every day. Yesterday, I had to get on to Priya’s case for wasting Kleenex. I was already annoyed at her for her over-the-top antics of covering her entire face to impress upon me the fact that she really needed a tissue. But when I saw her grab one tissue, touch it to the tip of her nose, and then immediately grab another tissue, I snapped.

I told her that she owed me a quarter. “Kleenex cost money, you know, so you need to bring a quarter tomorrow for that extra Kleenex you wasted.”

By the time Priya came into my class this morning and kept holding out a quarter to me, I had completely forgotten about my little tirade. When she finally told me it was for the Kleenex, I said thank you and took it. Later in the day, I told her that she could have the quarter back if she promised to use only one Kleenex at a time, to which she readily agreed.

I then told her she’d owe me a dollar every time she asked for a Kleenex with both hands covering her face.

I’m thinking I should start charging Tyler a quarter every time I have to listen to one of his health issues. This boy is always complaining about some mysterious malady. As a result, I’m often biting back some snide response to his claims. Or NOT biting them back, in some cases.

A month ago, he told me, “I have a little bump on my head.”

Two weeks ago, it was, “My knee kind of hurts.”

Last week, I heard, “My eyes are watering.”

Often, I just reply with a quick, “Oooh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Other times, I try to express solidarity with the lad by telling him about my own pains.

“I know what you mean, Tyler, my glutes are really tight today!”

Or, “Yeah, my head is pounding like a mo-fo!”

Today, Tyler turned around to tell me, “I have cramps.”

I said, “Maybe you’re pregnant!”

No, of course I didn’t say that. But man, was I tempted!

Tyler’s problems pale by comparison to Suzie’s. Yes, the same Suzie who falls asleep every single day in class. I don’t know if she doesn’t sleep at all at home, or if she’s doing it for attention, or if nobody’s in the hatch of her brain to push the button every 108 minutes to keep her awake.

Yesterday, she left early for a doctor’s appointment, and she returned today with a new way to express her problems.

At around 9:00 this morning, she motioned me over so she could tell me, “I’m having girl problems down there.” As she said this, she pointed not-so-subtly at her crotch.

Yuck. I’m having regurgitation problems down there, and I’m pointing at my gut.

I don’t want to be too cavalier here, because sometimes kids have true health problems. Take Lance and his hemophilia, for instance. But I feel like Tyler, Suzie, and the others will need to suffer a massive heart attack, a stroke, and a really nasty hangnail (what we in the medical industry term “The Trifecta”) before I really start worrying about them.

Well, my angina and sciatica are starting to act up, and I think I feel a touch of e. coli coming on. I had better wrap this up!

Talk to you later,



Hy Pocondriak



Date: Friday, December 11, 2009





To: Fred Bommerson



From: Jack Woodson



Subject: Joaqim Possible and the Scorched Earth





Hey pal,



From what you’re telling me, it sounds like Steph in HR has gotten even worse since I left Heat Pumps Unlimited. It’s one thing to have kids like Tyler and Suzie constantly complaining about how they feel, but it’s much worse coming from an adult. Steph is STILL talking about catching Swine Flu? Wasn’t that like two years ago?

A word of advice – don’t mention lice to her, or she’ll suddenly have it and need to go home immediately.

I am so glad that today is Friday. Besides having a date tonight with a fully recovered Jill (YES!), my carpal tunnel syndrome has really been aggravating me. You may remember, that was one of my wonderful parting gifts for years of service at HPU (along with a lovely assortment of salted meats and a year’s supply of Rice-a-Roni, the San Francisco Treat). It had gone away for a while, but it’s been making a resurgence lately. Today, my hands felt weaker than Carson Daly’s charisma.

For the past two days, I’ve been wearing one of those wrist braces – you know, the kind that makes it look like I’m going on the professional bowling tour. Of course the kids keep asking me, “Mister Woodson, what happened to your hand?”

I tell them, “I’ve just always wanted to be a super hero!”

Now I shall be known as Mister Iron Fist. Well, I guess I’m really more like Mister Rigid Plastic and Polymer Blend (with Delicate Weave!) Fist. To everyone except Shelly, that is, who still insists on calling me “Miss.”

While ruling the class with my cyborg fist, I’ve been attempting to teach elapsed temperature problems. That’s right, ELAPSED temperature problems. When I was in school, I’m pretty sure we never did anything like this, certainly not in the third grade. In fact, I don’t even think I heard the word “elapsed” until after I had my master’s degree in engineering! But anyway, it’s on the curriculum, so it must be taught. The problems are all of this sort:



“This morning, the temperature outside was 74ºF. By the afternoon, it had risen to 88ºF. What was the change in temperature?”