Pearls of Teenage Wisdom

I shared this story in part via Facebook earlier this week, but it's too good not to share here, too:

On their vocabulary quizzes each week, my students write sentences to demonstrate understanding of several words. Last week's quiz included the word "discern." The result was one of the most classic student-written sentences ever:

"I can't discern my girlfriend's baby daddy just from looking at it, so I guess I'll have to trust her."

As if the sentence alone wasn't ridiculous enough, I started thinking of all the different interpretations of the pronouns. Who is "it"? Who is "her"? Why do I even care?

Pearls of Teenage Wisdom

My students are reading Julius Caesar in class right now. Today, among other scenes, we read Act 2, Scene 3, which is only a couple paragraphs long. One student found this terribly troubling.

Student: "So, wait. This guy can write this much and call it a scene?"

(We didn't get into the fact that Shakespeare may not have actually decided where each "scene" would go.)

Me: "Yes, that was one scene."

Student, under his breath: "I don't know why everyone thinks this guy is so great. What a slacker."

Pearls of Teenage Wisdom

I try not to post about students with language barriers, because that just doesn't seem fair. Sometimes they're just too good to pass up.

My students read novels on their own over Christmas and later posted a book review online. One of my students (who moved here from Korea less than a year ago), meant to say, "I am a person who reads a lot of books." Instead, he wrote, "I am a pervert who reads a lot of books."

Thankfully, all posts require administrative approval.

Women's rights are human rights

My Speech students are giving their final speeches of the semester this week. Their assignment was to visit this site and present one of these great American speeches. While I was previewing the speeches that the students chose, I was reminded of one of my very favorite speeches, given by then-First Lady Hillary Clinton at a United Nations' Women's Conference in Beijing:



The message is still so relevant today, a fact which is simultaneously uplifting and discouraging.

Halftime at the America Bowl

In a follow-up to Saturday's post on the America Bowl, I have to write just one more related post. Yesterday, the blog shared its halftime show, a painfully lip-synched "Up With People" performance from Super Bowl XVI.

Since this contest of presidents versus Super Bowls may end up in a tie, I hope they use this as the tie-breaker. The presidents would win hands-down.

44 vs. XLIV

There was an article in The New Yorker this week about one of the most fascinating convergences of Americana I've ever seen: U.S. Presidents and Super Bowls. There have been, after all, 44 of each, so it was only a matter of time before someone decided to face them against each other. That time has arrived with the "America Bowl."

I could try to explain its genius, but I really can't do it justice. This is how the site's author, Don Steinberg, describes the contest:

"There have been 44 presidents in U.S. history, and on February 7, 2010, the 44th Super Bowl game will be played. For the only time in history, America's greatest institutions will be all even with each other.

"But which have been better? Our Super Bowl games? Or our Presidents? Finally, we can find out!

"Each day, for 44 days leading up to Super Bowl 44, America Bowl will match a President against the same-numbered Super Bowl game. Each day one will win -- and score a point.

"It will all come to a head on February 7, when Super Bowl XLIV is matched against 44th President Barack Obama. Will it all come down to who wants it more on that last game day? Keep checking in here to find out!"

As the article notes, the criteria for these 44 matches is vague, but that doesn't make the contests any less entertaining. Steinberg's wit and knowledge of both history and sports culture makes this page worth bookmarking--at least for the next 23 days.

Pearls of teenage wisdom

When I first met my students, I asked them to write something about themselves so I could get to know them. I asked them to complete either "The most interesting thing about me is..." or "Something most people don't know about me is..."

One student who was rich of intellect but lacking any discernible social skills wrote "The most interesting thing about me is that I am a Narcissist. Narcissism was developed by Dr. Sigmund Freud and refers predominately to the personality trait of egotism..." And it only got better from there.

I was teaching the same students Oedipus not long after that, and I had them write a lot of journal entries along the way to connect with the play. In one of the entries, they were to describe a time when their hubris, or excessive pride, got them in trouble. This student wrote a lengthy oration on the meaning and derivation of the word "hubris," but nothing about his own excessive pride. I thought he of all students would have no trouble with that.

Me: "I'm afraid you didn't follow the assignment. You were to write about YOUR hubris."

Student: "Yes, and while I appreciated where you were coming from, I'm afraid I find it impossible to write about myself."

He is, by far, the most modest and self-effacing Narcissist I have ever met.

Pearls of (substitute) teacher wisdom

Before I tell this story, I have to first say that substitute teaching has to be one of the hardest jobs in the entire world. They get no respect and hardly any pay. With that caveat out of the way, some of those subs really have it coming...

We had a substitute in our building recently who walked into a diverse classroom of students and immediately proclaimed that she would have to "exercise the black demons from the classroom." The kids were taken aback at first, but she didn't stop. She continued to tell them that the room was filled with evil spirits and that it needed to be cleansed.

Contrary to popular opinion, kids are incredibly astute and can sense weakness in a manner of seconds. Without missing a beat, all the African American students in the classroom began to wail and moan. "The black spirit! It's claimed me!" Some flopped on their desks; some clutched their chests; some stared with feigned horror.

The substitute shrieked at this Godless display and ran to the back of the classroom. She crouched into the fetal position and began a series of what incantations in a foreign tongue. Before long, the entire class was claimed by spirits, and the poor woman went into a fit of hysterics and very nearly had a coronary.

Not surprisingly, this particular teacher has not been called back to our school (though she somehow made it to the end of that particular day). I hear she does contact administration almost every day, however, because of a very genuine concern that our entire student population is in need of an collective exorcism.

Good-for-nothing Cleaning

Matt and I went home to Minnesota for Christmas this year. We're lucky enough to have a wonderful housesitter stay with Barley while we're away. We've taken him to kennels, but Barley hates being there, and I can't take the guilt.

Because I knew someone was going to be in our house for a week, I spent practically the entire week before we left cleaning and scrubbing. Yes, there were still pockets of everyday messiness (read: I didn't clean Matt's messes), but for the most part, I could eat off nearly any surface in our home.

As we were getting ready to go to the airport, I let Barley outside one last time. Somehow, he got himself wrapped around a tree, and I had to plod through the snow to unwind his leash and let him inside. I ran around the house for a couple more minutes, grabbing last-minute things for the trip.

While we were on our way to the airport, not two minutes from home, I started to smell the undeniable smell of doggie poo. I have a knack of stepping in dog poop, so I knew it was me. Matt freaked out and pulled the car over so I could get it off. With most of the poo adequately scraped and Matt and I on our way to the airport, I realized one of my life's saddest disappointments:

Rachel: "I just spent five days cleaning our house."
Matt: "I know."
Rachel: "I even cleaned the baseboards."
Matt: "I know."
Rachel: "And then I stepped in dog poop and walked all over the house."
Matt: (pause for contemplation) "She probably won't notice the baseboards."

Barley the AT-AT

While we love our Barley dearly, we do recognize that he's a bit oddly shaped. His head is a bit small for his body, and his legs are disproportionately long. The vet has told us that she's not sure if Barley needs to lose some weight, or is just "built differently." Such is the joy of a mixed breed, I suppose.

Especially when Barley is stalking something (usually something ridiculous like a plastic bag or pile of snow), Matt has always said that he looks just like a Star Wars AT-AT. Not having committed the movies to memory as he had, I had no idea what he was talking about (forgive me, Anna, Cara, and any other Star Wars junkies).

Then, when we had some down time over this lovely holiday break, I finally had time to do a side-by-side comparison. Per usual, Matt was right:

We still love you, Barley...AT-AT legs and all.