I'm doubting the ability to type with fingers as frigid as mine. Why a home is so cold is beyond me. Today was spent with the children; sweet, concerned, conniving children. I was roving, meaning that wherever I was needed to relieve a teacher, I would be. 1st graders, pasting standarized testing scores into student files, 4th graders, 2nd graders. A day that sucks a certain juice out of me.
After an hour with questioning, "low group" 9 year olds, all willing and desperate to know the division of decimals without even understanding 20-18, or 5x3, I then went to count beans with 7 year olds also struggling with the concepts of adddition. It struck me as draining. The 7 year olds' teacher had an incentive method though. Get an answer, collect a pretzel! This seemed appealing at first, directing the children with pretzels. It quickly got old. Especially when I wanted to bark at the girl who asked in her sweet, syrupy voice But if we do this, can we get a pretzel?
"ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO ASK THOSE SORTS OF QUESTIONS...YOU?"
They expect me to know their names. Sometimes for the naive ones, nametags provide them with such disbelief. I can read your mind, sweet one. Then a saavier kid will chime in and let the truth hang out.
I was enquiring to my boyfriend the other day if he remembered when he lost his belief in Santa Claus. He recalled the moment sharply, when Heather DeFeather had blabbed the truth out in class. Crushed. My student Alex eagerly asked me the other day what I got from Santa Claus this year. Money and some earrings. That's it? A creme brulee machine. HAHAH, money! he laughed. I had a feeling he was squirming away his loss of faith.
Spending an hour with a 7 year old and then another with a 4 year old every day can be something else. I'd like to report that Brian, the little one, presented phonemic awareness today. I was peachy. A is for Apple and Q is for Queen. I won't deny that it was the Hooked on Phonics program that made it all transpire. I decided today was the day we focus on letter sounds instead of names, and with the flashy computer screen and power mouse controller, he was on his way. It was enlivening to be a part of. Then he demanded I read two books, instead of barely getting through one. Hurricanes and tornadoes, topics that he fancies.
Now I'm watching Jack Nicholson in his sexy years as a cuckold's detective in Chinatown. The bath is seducing me with all its heat energy potential. I'm curious what happened to the popularity of a broach.
2 comments:
My position is its own, but it's part of my program, if that makes any sense. I have my own job with a transitional certification, but my program is administered by the NYC DOE anyway, so they're in on the whole deal. I've had people ask for me to take pictures of my class, but 1. that sounds creepy 2. that would make me feel creepy. You're the only other person besides my old roommate and myself that I've heard (or read) use the word "cuckold."
hooked on phonics worked for me!!
Post a Comment