Have you ever read (or seen) one of those dippy romance
stories where the heroine meets a completely despicable character who makes her
life impossible? There is always a nice, responsible man who offers a stark contrast
to the loathsome creature. We all know how the story ends . . .
So, let me tell you about my 8th period class.
Middle schoolers are always pleasant at the end of the day and, thanks to our
block schedule, more than 40% of their time with me takes place on Friday
afternoon! How can I describe them? They:
·
Talk during “quiet warm-up.”
·
Eat Cheetos when they think I am not looking.
·
Wander around the room and gather by the
water-fountain.
·
Roll their eyes at me when I suggest pretty much
anything.
·
Make this annoying popping noise.
·
Constantly ask to go to the bathroom.
·
Seemingly hear mostly “Wah wah wah, wah wah”
when I give instructions.
·
Make a hideous mess!
My other classes seem so nice and orderly in comparison. When
8th period rolls into my classroom loudly like a pack of wild
puppies, I brace myself and gather my strength to make it through the next 95
minutes.
Today, they were working in teams to clarify their understanding
and communication around the idea of linear growth. The project involved
cutting things out and gluing or taping them together in a way that makes
sense. One boy taped his nose up to make a pig snout. Another pretended to be
Edward Scissorhands with all the metal safety scissors. There were shards of
paper everywhere, and I can’t even begin to describe the noise level. Some students
were sitting on the floor, others were standing around tables or sitting on
desks. As I walked around I noticed that their work was at least as good as my
well-behaved classes, and showed their understanding in some rather creative
ways. My struggling students were actively participating as their teams scaffolded
tasks without my intervention. They were smiling, laughing and talking ABOUT
MATH! They were actually excited to show people their work and explain their
thinking!
At the end of the day they cleaned up their enormous mess
(sort of) before I asked. At the sound of the bell they pushed out into the
hall and ran, yelling and making that noise, away for the day. As I became immersed in the quiet that surrounded me after their departure, I noticed that someone had forgotten a shoe and that one team had turned their poster in by placing it the box that is clearly marked "Recycling." I think they are beginning to grow on me . . .
