Learn Me Gooder

I’m all about developing those critical thinking skills.

The producer/consumer concept just throws more gas on the fire. The fact that animals – and thus humans – cannot make their own food is another stumbling block for the kids. I always get a chorus of arguments.

“I can TOO make my own food! I can make a turkey sandwich, and sometimes my mommy lets me make spaghettios!”

I think I’ll start showing Food Network videos in class, to highlight the difference between PRODUCING your food and PREPARING your food. Plants, and only plants, have the ability to create their own food through photosynthesis. My kids can slap a meal together, through a process I like to call dodosynthesis.

Anyway, last night, I gave an extra credit homework assignment which was to make and illustrate a food chain. I got some very interesting submissions. Here are a few proposed chains that we will not be seeing in nature anytime soon:



Corn - Lion - Shark

Unless it’s a land shark, of course. Candygram!



Bananas - Monkey - Ape

That would be cannibalism, kids, and that’s just wrong.



Apples - Horse - Me

At first, I thought she was saying she was hungry enough to eat a horse, but maybe she was making a reference to Jell-O?



Strawberry - Ferret - Fox - Brontosaurus

Silly kid! Now this is truly ridiculous. Brontosaurus is a PLANT eater!



Then there were several who just didn’t get the concept at all.



Dog - Food - Pedigree - Flea spray

Um, FOOD chain, my dear girl, not product line.



Fan - Air - Energy

Wow, a metaphysical food chain!



Dog food - Dog - Car

I asked about this, and the writer told me it was because cars hit dogs sometimes.



And my first annual winner of the “No Clue Chain” Award…



Banana - Corn - Soup - Tomato - Apple - Popcorn chicken

This was accompanied by a picture with the caption, “This is Eddie eating corn and tomato and banana.” Check plus for making a chain of food; check minus for comprehending the actual concept.



Quite obviously, this lesson falls under the heading – RETEACH!

Still, it did give me my favorite food chain of all time:



Strawberry - Squirrel - Snake - Chinese person

Nice integration of Science and Social Studies from Smoker Anna, a born overachiever.



After lunch (during which time the kids fulfilled their role as top of the food chain), I received a formal observation. Once or twice a year, Mrs. Forest or Ms. Zapata comes and sits in on the class for 30-45 minutes. This is part of our yearly evaluation, but it always makes me nervous. Not that I have anything to hide – I’m always very careful to meticulously hide the weapons of math destruction – but I hate speaking in front of adults. Throw me in front of a thousand kids and I’m fine, but add a grown-up or two to the mix, and I suffer a massive anxiety attack. You may remember the deep shade of fire engine I always turned when asked to give my status update at production meetings.

The observation went pretty well I thought. I did my best to keep Shelly from writing notes, Victor from visiting Planet Zorlon, and Joaqim from being overly Joaqimly. Two things did stand out, though.

First, Mia raised her hand to show me her answer to the problem of the day. I glanced at it, saw that it was correct, gave her a thumbs up, and said, “Very nice!”

She immediately replied with her patented and unique form of thank you – “YOU A GOOD TEACHER!!”

Maybe it was just my imagination that she said it twice as loud as normal, but I don’t think so.

A little while later, Tyler made everyone aware that he had conquered the problem he was working on. He did this by slamming his hand down on his desk and shouting, “KHAN-TAY!”

I can only hope Mrs. Forest will appreciate my students’ passion and excitement for learning. And that she won’t ever ask me to explain their thinking process. Linear food chains, I can handle. These kids’ chains of thought – no clue.

Talk to you later,



Herb E Vorr



Date: Wednesday, March 3, 2010





To: Fred Bommerson



From: Jack Woodson



Subject: Use the quarts, Luke





Hey dude,



I’m very saddened that you would make such a cruel food chain poster and put it in Latya’s cubicle. I mean, really?



Excessive amounts of candy and potato chips - Latya





That’s just wrong, dude.

It’s wrong because all food chains are supposed to start with a plant. I thought I said that before.

Something else that might be wrong – I haven’t talked to Jill in about a week and a half now. I’ve gotten a few short texts saying she’s been busy, but that’s about it. I’m trying not to read anything into this, but I’m starting to wonder if I should be worried.

I don’t want to dwell on that, though, so I’ll dive right into this week’s brand new objective for third grade – capacity. The kids are of course unfamiliar with the topic, and it’s a topic that I am pretty unfamiliar with myself. As a former engineer, I know a lot about measurement in terms of length and temperature, but I don’t have much experience with pints and milliliters. There were a few questions I needed to answer before trying to teach the concept.



Why does the abbreviation for ounces have a “z” in it?

How many pints are there in a buttload?

Is it ever truly acceptable to use the word “dram” in civilized conversation?



Monday morning came with the anticipated confusion. For kids who have trouble remembering the difference between a square and a rectangle, capacity seemed doomed from the quart. I introduced the customary units first, but most of the units were words the kids had never even heard before. I may as well have said 2 snerks equals 1 plekt, and 8 crells in a doogy.

After the strange words had been introduced, though, I focused on real-world examples. I showed the kids a milk jug to represent a gallon and a Gatorade bottle to represent a quart. A peek into my home fridge led to the discovery that a bottle of Kraft ranch salad dressing holds exactly 1 pint, so I brought that in for show and tell as well. I found something that has a capacity of exactly 1 liter, but I opted to leave the bottle of Absolut at home.

Inspired by my own kitchen raid, I gave the kids an extra credit homework assignment last night. I asked them to go home and look through their refrigerators, freezers, and pantries. They may not have had a firm grasp on the concept of capacity, but I figured they could at least recognize the units on containers. They made lists of all of the containers they found, along with the capacity of each.

Reading through the lists today was one of the most entertaining things I’ve done in my classroom all year long. Maybe it’s juvenile of me, but I laughed for almost ten minutes when I saw Tiny Anna’s list, which included a “2-Liter bottle of Cock” (and Cock Zero!).

There were a few examples of missing decimal points – 612 gallons of barbecue sauce, 277 gallons of mustard, 118 liters of Mr. Clean. Either that, or someone owns stock in the wholesale store.

Soda and milk were on most lists, but items like Ms. Butterworth (1 pt, 8 oz), champagne (1.05 pt), and Hooter’s hot sauce (5 fl oz) were unique. Perhaps with all of the varying liquids, it was inevitable that Maalox (355 mL) would make an appearance as well.

Most kids didn’t limit themselves to food and drink alone. Lists included body oil (473 mL), Dawn dish soap (1.18 qt), and Tilex (1 pt).

After letting the kids have a few moments to share items from their lists with each other, I led them into the main part of today’s lesson. I had something new that I wanted to try out.

A little while ago, I read a book called The Prisoner of Trebekistan. In it, former Jeopardy champion Bob Harris talks a lot about memory devices that he used while studying for the game show. His studying led him to the conclusion that things and events that make an outrageous or hilarious impression last the longest in memory. And it seems to have worked well for him.

That got me to thinking what sorts of humorous things I could do to try to leave a lasting mark in my students’ memories. In other words, how many times can I make a complete fool of myself in the name of mathematic academics?

Let’s start the ticker at one.

Today, I decided to be a Jedi. I took a quick poll and verified that all of my kids were familiar with Star Wars. Sadly, they were only acquainted with the Jar Jar Binks trilogy, but for the purposes of my lesson, I was able to work around that. Doing my best Obi-Wan Kenobi impersonation, I informed the kids that our new motto was going to be, “May the quarts be with you.”

After we passed that mantra around a few times, I told them we could also say, “May the FOURTHS be with you.”

Then we went over how this motto could help someone remember that there are four cups in a quart, and four quarts in a gallon, not to mention the fact that there are four letters in the words Jedi, Star, and Wars.

The kids in my morning class seemed to enjoy this immensely. Miles even pulled the hood of his jacket over his head, taking on the persona of a Jedi Knight, before doing a small bow and saying, “May the fourths be with you.”

Most of the kids in my afternoon class, though, looked at me as though I was speaking Chinese or talking about subtraction.

Oh well, all it takes is that one connection. Besides, as they say, “Who’s the more foolish – the fool, or the fool who follows him?”

Maybe tomorrow I’ll introduce them to a Math Jedi’s greatest weapon… the Pint-Saber.

Your friend,



Fearless Liter



Date: Friday, March 5, 2010





To: Fred Bommerson



From: Jack Woodson



Subject: Vision: Impossible





Hey dude,



I’m telling you, I don’t even know how many pints are in a regular buttload. So how am I supposed to know how many pints are in a METRIC buttload?

After a full week, I’d say my kids have as firm a grasp on capacity as they are likely to get. At the very least, I feel confident that none of them will ever walk into a liquor store later in life and ask for five pounds of beer.

Somebody apparently wasn’t happy with the capacity of a bottle of Elmer’s glue. I learned this the hard way out at the bus line this afternoon. My bus started to pull away from the curb, and there was a tremendous BANG. I quickly realized two things: first, somebody had positioned a bottle of glue under the back tire of the bus, and second, my pants were covered in glue.

I was not a happy camper. Quite frankly, I’m STILL pretty ticked off about it, so rather than subject you to my anger, I’ll switch gears and talk about something more ridiculous (though par for the course).

Yesterday, Shelly presented me with a very odd statement. I’ve come to expect odd statements from her, but this was odd even by her standards. We had just returned to my classroom after the restroom break that follows recess. Which means that it was around 12:45, and Shelly had already been in my room for an hour before lunch and recess.

It wasn’t until that moment, however, that she chose to inform me, “Last night, I was watching TV, and it blinded me. I can’t see my paper.” Her paper, of course, being the math journal on her desk, a foot and a half from her face.

As you might imagine, I was a bit skeptical. I mean, when MY television blinds ME late at night, I don’t get my vision back temporarily in the morning and then lose it again after lunch. Heck, even Han Solo didn’t come out of his Carbonite suspension just fine only to go blind a day later.

Shelly persisted, however, and wouldn’t do any of her work, so I finally took her across the hall to Mrs. Bird’s room. I asked her if Shelly had done any of her reading and social studies work that morning, or if she had been too blind. Mrs. Bird is either used to our kids doing crazy things OR me asking crazy questions, so she wasn’t fazed at all by our visit. She responded like a consummate professional that Shelly had appeared to have perfect vision and had done all of her work.

In the hallway, before we reentered my classroom, I tried a new tact. I told Shelly that Mrs. Fitzgerald had commented on how nice it was that Shelly had picked some flowers for her during recess. I added that it would be very difficult for someone to pick flowers and make a nice little bouquet if that someone was vision-impaired.

Shelly stared at me blankly (yes, this IS the same girl who calls me Miss Woodson) and finally said, “But… But some of the flowers were upside down!”

Is that one of the sure signs of blindness or something? “Flowers were upside down – driver’s license denied!”

I didn’t get much work out of Shelly for the rest of the day, but I had a talk with her parents last night, and thankfully, I didn’t hear any more claims of blindness today.

From HER, that is...

Today, most of our kids went outside for recess, but I kept a small group of misbehaviors in my room. When my class came back inside, another little girl – Hillary – approached me and said, “Mister Woodson, I got pushed down outside on the playground and now I can’t see. The nurse said I need to have someone in the classroom lead me around.”

My students certainly won’t be winning any prizes in originality any time soon.

Hillary was really hamming it up, walking around like a zombie with her hands out in front of her. I half expected her to start feeling my face, saying, “Mr. Woodson, is that you?”

Not surprisingly, Hillary had no note from the nurse giving me the aforementioned instructions. Nurse McCaffrey ALWAYS sends the kids back with detailed notes to teachers. So I found her claim lacking a bit in an area I like to call “FACT.”

A few moments later, Mrs. Bird walked into my room, so I asked her about Hillary’s condition. She confirmed my suspicion that the nurse had indeed sent back a note that said that Hillary was perfectly fine. I didn’t see it, but I believe the note actually included the observation, “No blindness detected whatsoever.”

Here’s hoping we can go one more week without any claims of sensory loss. Then Spring Break will be here, and the kids can be as blind, deaf, mute, and numb as they want to be while they’re at home. I suspect they’ll still smell, though.

Later,



Sy Tenpaired



Date: Tuesday, March 9, 2010





To: Fred Bommerson



From: Jack Woodson



Subject: The 5th Horseman of the Apocalypse





Hey buddy,



You are spot on, once again. The kids may appear to go blind and deaf all the time, but they never seem to go mute. I do think it would be funny if you pretended to go blind the next time you don’t have an answer for Reggie at a status meeting. If he calls BS, counter with, “But some of the heating elements were upside down!”

Ironically enough, the annual vision tests are being performed at the school this week. I don’t know how Shelly and Hillary could possibly have known about it last week, but the timing could not have been more interesting.

My students’ eyes were tested today. Amidst heavy laughter, the kids each had to put on a bulky, nerdy pair of glasses and try to read the eye chart. After a while, Nurse McCaffrey asked me to either stop giggling or to leave the room.

At the end of the day, I witnessed the worst reaction ever to a suggestion for eyeglasses. Eight notes went home to parents suggesting that their child needs glasses (including one to Lex, who already wears them!). Tiny Anna got such a letter and burst into tears. Tiny Anna is a smart sweet angel of a child, and her reaction really surprised me. She kept sobbing, “I don’t WANT glasses! My mom doesn’t WANT me to have glasses!”

When I asked her why, she said, “Because they can get broken!”

Inwardly, I wondered if she had ever been allowed to own anything outside of Silly Putty, but outwardly, I tried to console her by telling her that glasses just have to be taken care of, and that if they get broken by accident, they can always be replaced. But she acted as if someone had told her she was going to have to watch a 48-hour long marathon of Freddy Got Fingered and then perform her own interpretive dance version afterwards.

On the other end of the spectrum from Tiny Anna, I got a new kid in my class yesterday. His name is Marshawn, and his reputation precedes him. Big time. He didn’t show up in my room until 10, and I later found out that this was because those first two hours were spent down in the principal’s office where he was read the riot act upon first entering the building. Apparently, his old school couldn’t get him out the door fast enough, but they were thoughtful enough to forward several complaints about him to our principal before he arrived. From what I’ve heard, his ultimate transgression at his old school was breaking a toilet.

Over the course of my life, I’ve heard of or seen several different ways to break a toilet, including:



Dropping a shot put from a height of six feet into the porcelain bowl.

Standing on the rim and jumping up and down (lid up for boys, down for girls).

Stuffing the pipe so full of something (toilet paper, jump ropes, school uniforms) that the toilet just explodes.



Marshawn said something about using a screwdriver. My initial thought was NOT that he used it to unscrew all of the hardware, but rather that he did a “Psycho” number on the bowl and pipes. Slash and chip, baby.

I can already tell that Marshawn is going to test the limits of my positive to negative feedback ratio. Experts say that for every teacher’s comment that could be construed as negative – “Stop throwing chicken nuggets at people!” – there should be something like ten positive comments – “Your accuracy is coming along nicely!” Thus, the positive: negative ratio.

I’ve set myself a more modest goal; instead of 10:1, I’m attempting to maintain a 3:1 ratio. Even so, I’ve already had to get pretty creative with kids like Joaqim and Suzie.



“I love the way you’re converting oxygen to carbon dioxide!”

“Your snoring hardly disturbed anybody today!”

“You’re doing a great job making the top half of the class possible!”



Today, Marshawn came in and wouldn’t do any work for me. He kept putting his head down and looking to the world like he was taking a nap. I introduced him to my rule of “Sleep in your bed, not in my classroom.”

He immediately responded, “I stayed up all night watching a movie!”

Hmmm...well, Marshawn, that would certainly explain the need for sleep, but here’s an idea. Maybe, and this is just me thinking out loud here, you SHOULDN’T watch late-night movies when you have to go to school the next morning. Make sense?

Turns out he’ll be able to watch all the Cinemax he wants tonight and tomorrow night. Mrs. Bird had him suspended for the rest of the week. It’s pretty amazing for HER – normally a very calm, patient teacher who doesn’t get rattled easily – to suspend a kid who’s only been here for two days. No sewage disruption yet at our school (at least not due to him), but he’s been throwing out insults like they were homeworks with no names on them. He dropped an F-bomb over in her room, called several kids’ mothers an unsavory word that rhymes with “witch,” and told Charles, “That is the Mother Effing biggest stomach I have ever seen!”

Marshawn is no Olive Oyl himself, so this really is a classic case of the pot calling the kettle fat. And I looked and beheld a crazyhorse, and an insane rider sat upon him. Why do the lunatics always show up right before Spring Break?

Hey, before I sign off, I have some bad news. I’ve been in a terrible mood since the weekend, and it’s not just from having my pants ruined by glue or getting a new challenge in class. I had a date with Jill on Saturday, and instead of being the grand night of catching up that I had hoped for, it wound up being the not so grand night of BREAKING up.

Long story short, an ex-boyfriend has moved back to town and wants to rekindle the flame, she’s torn but needs to take some time to sort out her feelings, she doesn’t want to keep me hanging, yadda yadda yadda.

Maybe I should have seen this coming, but I pretty much feel blindsided. Big time bummer. I thought things were going so well. At least I only have three more days of school to make it through before getting an entire week off in which to wallow in self pity. And chocolate pudding.

For now, I guess I’ll go drown my sorrows in about six liters of Mountain Dew. All the while thankful that I don’t have to get glasses or use broken toilets.

Later,



Lou Zerr



Date: Friday, March 12, 2010





To: Fred Bommerson



From: Jack Woodson



Subject: The teacher will see you now





Hey Fred,



Thanks, man. I appreciate your support during this rough patch. I also appreciate you guys sending me all of the Photoshopped pictures of hot celebrities asking me out. I’m not sure Jennifer Garner would have misspelled so many words, but I liked the intent of the message all the same. Maybe a gorgeous brown-eyed brunette COULD help me “get over my resent brakeup.”

This whole week has dragged, but yesterday was an especially super long day. The blank stares… The same questions over and over… The never-ending tattling… That’s right, last night was Parent-Teacher conference night! There has been some debate over the past few days as to which is less torturous – conference night or a 22-hour road trip to Montana with a rabid ferret in the backseat.

Last night followed the usual pattern for Parent-Teacher conferences. The parents of the really bad kids don’t show up, the parents who DO show up are mainly told that their kid needs to read more at home, and somebody down the hall is screaming the lyrics to “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” at the top of their lungs. Okay, that last one is not usual. Oh, and since many of our parents don’t speak English, we had to keep buzzing the office to send a translator down.

A couple of times, when there was no translator available, we had to settle for one of our students’ older brothers. This made me wonder if they were accurately converting what we said, or channeling Mouth from The Goonies.



Us: “Michael needs to read at home every night.”

Translated as: “Michael has been asking some very disturbing questions about monkeys.”

Us: “Michael has not been participating in class.”

Translated as: “Michael has been smoking macaroni and cheese.”

Us: “Michael did well on his last math test.”

Translated as: “Michael says there that Uranus consists mostly of slushy gases.”



Of the parents who did show up, Thilleenica’s were certainly the most memorable. They seemed VERY happy to be there and had more giggle fits than I could count. Also, it wasn’t difficult to see that they had bloodshot eyes, and there was a weird odor coming from them.

Yep, they showed up stoned. The really bad thing was that Thilleenica was with them. She wasn’t stoned at least, but I can’t imagine her home life is a very good one.

At one point, Thilleenica’s dad glanced over at Bubba, the Scottish nutcracker, and said, “Hey! We used to have one of those!”

Thilleenica’s eyes widened and darted over to me. I caught her eye, smiled, and decided to remain mum on the matter.

Amir’s mom showed up and brought her one-year-old daughter. Less than five minutes into our conference, the little girl toddled over to me and climbed into my lap, where she stayed for the rest of our meeting. Mrs. Bird snapped a picture, and my first thought was that Jill would really like to see it. But then I remembered…

Antonio’s father wanted to know why his son’s grades were so much worse in reading than they were in math. I told him about the restaurant coupons I’ve been giving Antonio as an incentive, and he said, “Oh, yes, he told us this was his reward for doing his math.”

He then looked squarely at Mrs. Bird and asked, “So why aren’t YOU giving him restaurant coupons?”

If the conferences had been tonight instead of last night, I’m afraid of the repercussions I might have faced for something that a lot of the kids were saying this afternoon. On our way back inside from recess, we passed Miss Phelps, a first grade teacher who had a lot of my kids two years ago. The kids swarmed around her and clamored for her attention, shouting that they had passed their latest multiplication test. A couple had (finally!) passed the 4’s test, and several had passed the 6’s and 7’s tests. The most vocal, however, seemed to be the group who were yelling, “I passed my 8’s test!”

If that means nothing to you, it’s because you’re reading this silently. Try this – stand up at your desk right now and shout, “I passed my 8’s test!” at Tiffany over the cubicle wall. See what happens. What looks commendable on paper is actually quite cringe-worthy out loud.

OK, man, I’m turning in for the night. By the time you read this, I’ll already be dead. Wait, that’s not right. By the time you read this, I’ll already be three days into Spring Break! I’ll come pester you guys for lunch a couple of times, if I feel like waking up before noon.

And if I’m not too busy giving Jennifer Garner private spelling lessons.

Later,



Ty Moff



Date: Tuesday, March 23, 2010





To: Fred Bommerson



From: Jack Woodson



Subject: Love letters from Dr. Jekyll





Hey buddy,



Spring Break is unfortunately over. You can officially cease your complaining now. The week off couldn’t have come at a better time, and I took advantage of being a bum and not doing much. In addition to hanging out with you guys, a couple of the fourth grade teachers – Hank Redd and Spencer Utoobay – took me out one night and did their darndest to push me towards every attractive female in the bar. I learned quickly that the best way to get over one rejection is NOT to put yourself in line for several more.

But hey, I’m really feeling a lot better after having this time off. Especially after watching 172 straight hours of college basketball. NOTHING will ever dampen my enjoyment of March Madness!!

Thanks also for all of the support I’ve gotten from you and my other pals at HPU. I received a lot of very encouraging emails from lots of people. Don’t ever tell him that I told you this, but I have to say I was most impressed with Larry. Dropping the horndog, goofball act for once, he sent me a surprisingly candid message about how he was able to get over the devastation of his divorce. My situation is nowhere near as extreme as that, but I was touched by his heartfelt words of advice.

So no more moping about Jill. Instead, I’ll get back to rubbing in the fact that I just had a whole week off from work!! Don’t you just love how that happens every year? Well, hey, you should be glad you don’t have to come back from a nice vacation to anything crazier than Latya hung over.

I’ll get to the classroom craziness later, but let’s start with some madness! Like I said, March Madness is in full effect, and my brackets are looking pretty darn good. Duke’s gonna win it all this year!!

In my class, the March Mathness tourney is just getting started. When I first asked the kids if any of them watched college basketball or had heard of March Madness, they looked at me as blankly as they do when I ask who knows what congruent means. There were a few nods of recognition and gasps of excitement, though, when I held up the brackets and announced the tournament.

I shouldn’t be too surprised that the kids are unaware of March Madness, as sad as that might be. When I was still at Heat Pumps Unlimited, I once suggested a March Madness celebration to the Party Planning Committee. All of the ladies on the committee were very excited about it. I then had to explain to them that March Madness was a sporting event and not a once-a-year shopping extravaganza.

I had the kids draw numbers out of a basket to decide which slot their names would go in in the opening round of our contest. This morning, when I called Eddie up to the basket and he pulled a 6, there was a general, “OOOOOH!” from the rest of the class. Never mind the fact that his opponent had not yet been selected. The other numbers and slots generated the same reaction, and now the first round is set. The kids are excited and seem to be looking forward to the test on Friday. We’ll see if that translates into better test scores or just more trash talking from kids like Tyler and Lex.

I myself didn’t trash talk anyone at school today, but I did talk ABOUT trash with one parent. Priya’s mom stopped by my classroom before lunch, upset about a note she had found in her daughter’s possession. Mrs. Bird was with her, and she showed me the ragged little note that looked like it had been put through the washer.

Priya’s mom was appalled that a boy in my class had written this note to Priya, and Priya had apparently told her mom that this boy was putting unwanted attention on her. Upon reading the note for myself, I wasn’t so sure.

At first glance, it was readily obvious that the note contained two different sets of handwriting. One person had used pen, while the other had written in pencil. Some of the statements clearly were in response to others.

On one side, it said:



“From: Ta’varon

To: Priya”

with a big imperative, “Do not tell on body!” scrawled across the top. There were little hearts with faces next to the words, “kiss you! kiss me!”



On the other side, in pencil was:



“I’m sorry I called you ugly. I did not mean to say that. But I liked what you said on the note. I love you to. Your cute to. Do you want to be boyfriend and girlfriend? Yes or no give it back.”



The user of the pen had then come along and circled the “Yes” and added:



“I love you to! I don’t now about boyfriend and girlfriend and if you want to I don’t care I like it to if you like it.”



It was obvious to me that Ta’varon and Priya both contributed to the note, and that both of them need to learn the correct usage of the word “too.” However, Priya’s mom apparently is deeply concerned that her daughter is receiving notes not only from a boy, but from a boy with a split personality disorder.

No wonder she was so upset!

I didn’t see the point of wasting any time in attempting to convince her that Priya had added to the note also, so I just told her I would talk to Ta’varon and take care of things. When she left, I called Romeo and Juliet out into the hall and showed them the note.

I first told Priya that I wasn’t too impressed that she had lied to her mother about her involvement. She didn’t even try to protest her innocence. Then I tried to convince both of them that they were WAY too young (TO young?) to be discussing love and relationships, and the school was no place for it anyway.

I was tempted to add, “If I don’t even have a girlfriend, you shouldn’t have one either!”

The love note must have been a hot topic of conversation in the lunchroom or on the playground, because I heard several kids whispering about who likes who while we were taking our bathroom break. Feeling the vibe, Isabel confided in me, “I have a crush on a boy.”

Almost without thinking, I answered, “You know, a crush is something you should always keep secret and never tell anyone, especially a teacher.”

I was just full of great romance advice today. But I wasn’t the only one.

Not long after Isabel tried to tell me about her unrequited love, one of the kindergarten teachers walked by. Thankfully, Katie waited until she was out of earshot before commenting, “There’s a pretty lady for you to marry!”

Thanks, sweetheart! Can you look into what kind of a dowry I can expect to receive if I enter into a marriage contract with that lady? Get back to me on that, OK?

She said it so matter-of-factly, too, as if she was pointing out the only open seat in a crowded auditorium.

I suppose the good news is that whenever I’m ready to get back in the saddle again, I won’t have to waste any hard-earned money on Match.com or eHarmony. Not when I’ve already got at my disposal a dogged little matchmaker AND a couple of experts in the art of writing love notes.

Talk to you later,



The Love Guru



Date: Monday, March 29, 2010





To: Fred Bommerson



From: Jack Woodson



Subject: It’s all about the Abrahams, baby





Hey bud,



Ha! It sounds like the manager you’ve been dealing with is exactly like Priya’s mother. Why is he refusing to believe that his own engineer had a hand in the latest proposal, and that it wasn’t just you? Did you write, “kiss me! kiss you!” on the proposal?

Also, I’ll see what I can do about getting Katie to find your soul mate. No guarantees, though, and it might cost you a crate of Capri Sun.

If today is any indication, this is going to be a very interesting week. My morning started with a little kid walking up to me and asking, “Is Abraham Lincoln dead?”

I answered, “Yep. And so are George Washington and Thomas Jefferson. Pretty much all of the money guys.”

He then ran back to a slightly larger child and said, “Yeah, he’s dead!”

I would love to have known what the lead-in on that conversation was, but unfortunately, I had to settle for that small piece of the puzzle. In my head, I imagine this is what preceded my involvement:



Big kid: “One of the questions on my test last week asked who wrote the Declaration of Independence.”

Little kid: “That’s easy – Uncle Sam!”

Big kid: “No, I thought it was Bill somebody, but I picked Abraham Lincoln.”

Little kid: “I watched Transformers 2 last night, and Abraham Lincoln was in that!”

Big kid: “No he wasn’t. He died, like 10 years ago. Go ask that big guy.”