Yesterday the eighth graders decided they needed to know more about my personal life.
As they came into class, one group was vocally demanding a "romantic story" (precedent had been set in the previous two classes, and they were on a roll) and another was begging to know whether I had a boyfriend.
"Do I look like a romantic?" I said to the first, and after teasing the second told them no.
They were shocked.
(Imagine as this is happening that I am mentally tangled up in my imperfect lesson plan and physically tangled up in trying to extricate the attendance computer and cord from the locked closet that is blocked by the back row of tables and chairs.)
Hubbub ensues.
I hear two prominent questions, the first "Why?" (oh, tact, eighth grade knows not your name) and the second, "So how many have you had in the past?" When I grin at them and tell them I have better things to do with my life, all the boys shout like I've been incredibly witty, and when I tell them I've never had a boyfriend, they just about melt down because I've taxed their understanding of reality past the limits. One girl in the back is spluttering — You mean — you've never — NEVER — let me get this straight — you've NEVER DATED ANYONE!?
"But — but...but you look like someone who has a boyfriend!"
I am pretty sure this is a compliment, but I'm not exactly sure what it means, so I ask them. And they are having a very hard time explaining, until someone blurts out, "Well — happy."
My turn to be shocked.
On the other hand, if all I do in my life is provide eighth grade girls with an example of a woman who doesn't need a boyfriend to be happy, I am content with my calling.
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Yesterday I also was asked my age again, and as usual, I told them I was thirty-six (used to be thirty-five, but then I had a birthday). They were surprised — "Really? But you look more like you're twenty!" — but they totally believed me. I felt a pang of guilt and then I didn't any more.
---
Talking to a sixth grade boy after school — he is such a fun kid to give a hard time about things: he makes very dramatic universal statements, and is quick to voice an opinion, and it's entertaining to push back on certain claims he makes and watch him struggle with the ideas. In the middle of one of these conversations (he's sitting on the sidewalk waiting for his ride), he stops abruptly. "You're really fun to talk to." I asked him why. "Oh...I don't know...you make things different." I asked him how they were different. "See! You're doing it again! You just...you just reiterate things. You make me think. You sound so...wise." Oh yeah, baby. Sixth graders think I am wise.
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On Wednesday, I decided to teach class wholly in Latin. I started by reading the story of Little Red Riding Hood very dramatically to them, while they tried to figure out what I was doing, and then I explained the story in very simple sentences aloud, defining vocab in Latin, and then I gave them the printed copy and had them read along and ask questions as we went through it a third time. It was awesome; my Latin is better than I ever thought it would be; and although there were some kids who were overwhelmed and kind of checked out, I had others who were super excited whom I never would have guessed would love it. I think it might have been the best class of the year.
---
Latin Club is made up of the weirdest group of kids, the weirdest combination of kids who all get along with each other and enjoy each other, and supervising it is my favorite. I usually end up staying way past the time it officially ends just to talk to students. They are so incredibly smart and talented and careless of outside opinion and pressure to conform; I think they are going to collectively take over the world.
---
I mentioned to my seventh graders that yesterday was almost the last day we would have together, and one of the boys in the back jumped on it — "No! We get you next year for Latin!" (So there.) Well, I was talking about the whole section, but I appreciate it, sir.
---
I was asked for my first letter of recommendation.
---
ONE MORE DAY OF CLASSES! And although I am really excited to be going home for the summer, and also really excited for the fresh start in the fall, and really thrilled to have made it through the first year, I also kind of don't want it to be over. I like my classes and I like my students and I would like for certain things to stay the same. What a crazy lovely year it's been.
As they came into class, one group was vocally demanding a "romantic story" (precedent had been set in the previous two classes, and they were on a roll) and another was begging to know whether I had a boyfriend.
"Do I look like a romantic?" I said to the first, and after teasing the second told them no.
They were shocked.
(Imagine as this is happening that I am mentally tangled up in my imperfect lesson plan and physically tangled up in trying to extricate the attendance computer and cord from the locked closet that is blocked by the back row of tables and chairs.)
Hubbub ensues.
I hear two prominent questions, the first "Why?" (oh, tact, eighth grade knows not your name) and the second, "So how many have you had in the past?" When I grin at them and tell them I have better things to do with my life, all the boys shout like I've been incredibly witty, and when I tell them I've never had a boyfriend, they just about melt down because I've taxed their understanding of reality past the limits. One girl in the back is spluttering — You mean — you've never — NEVER — let me get this straight — you've NEVER DATED ANYONE!?
"But — but...but you look like someone who has a boyfriend!"
I am pretty sure this is a compliment, but I'm not exactly sure what it means, so I ask them. And they are having a very hard time explaining, until someone blurts out, "Well — happy."
My turn to be shocked.
On the other hand, if all I do in my life is provide eighth grade girls with an example of a woman who doesn't need a boyfriend to be happy, I am content with my calling.
---
Yesterday I also was asked my age again, and as usual, I told them I was thirty-six (used to be thirty-five, but then I had a birthday). They were surprised — "Really? But you look more like you're twenty!" — but they totally believed me. I felt a pang of guilt and then I didn't any more.
---
Talking to a sixth grade boy after school — he is such a fun kid to give a hard time about things: he makes very dramatic universal statements, and is quick to voice an opinion, and it's entertaining to push back on certain claims he makes and watch him struggle with the ideas. In the middle of one of these conversations (he's sitting on the sidewalk waiting for his ride), he stops abruptly. "You're really fun to talk to." I asked him why. "Oh...I don't know...you make things different." I asked him how they were different. "See! You're doing it again! You just...you just reiterate things. You make me think. You sound so...wise." Oh yeah, baby. Sixth graders think I am wise.
---
On Wednesday, I decided to teach class wholly in Latin. I started by reading the story of Little Red Riding Hood very dramatically to them, while they tried to figure out what I was doing, and then I explained the story in very simple sentences aloud, defining vocab in Latin, and then I gave them the printed copy and had them read along and ask questions as we went through it a third time. It was awesome; my Latin is better than I ever thought it would be; and although there were some kids who were overwhelmed and kind of checked out, I had others who were super excited whom I never would have guessed would love it. I think it might have been the best class of the year.
---
Latin Club is made up of the weirdest group of kids, the weirdest combination of kids who all get along with each other and enjoy each other, and supervising it is my favorite. I usually end up staying way past the time it officially ends just to talk to students. They are so incredibly smart and talented and careless of outside opinion and pressure to conform; I think they are going to collectively take over the world.
---
I mentioned to my seventh graders that yesterday was almost the last day we would have together, and one of the boys in the back jumped on it — "No! We get you next year for Latin!" (So there.) Well, I was talking about the whole section, but I appreciate it, sir.
---
I was asked for my first letter of recommendation.
---
ONE MORE DAY OF CLASSES! And although I am really excited to be going home for the summer, and also really excited for the fresh start in the fall, and really thrilled to have made it through the first year, I also kind of don't want it to be over. I like my classes and I like my students and I would like for certain things to stay the same. What a crazy lovely year it's been.
