Not a Freshman, Not a Senior

I've had Marcellus in various classes over the years. He was in Mr. J's fourth period computer science class.

I had been in the class a couple days (so, this was back in March) when something about freshmen came up. There were a couple freshmen in this class, and for some reason I thought Marcellus was one of them. (Which makes no sense as I had had him in "various classes over the years".) Although, to be fair, he is short, so...

When I said something along those lines, Marcellus corrected me, informing me that he was a senior. I apologized for my mistake, and I verified his grade level in the attendance software. 

Marcellus was lying. He was a junior. 

I did not call him on this, however. It was unimportant. It wouldn't even make the blog, except...

Thursday. Legacy day.

The seniors had "checked out". Officially. Their grades were finalized, and they were beginning their senior activities. The first one was them going back to visit their elementary schools wearing their caps and gowns, letting the kiddos there know that one day they too would be in the seniors' shoes. 

For the freshmen, sophomores, and juniors, class was as normal. As fourth period had eleven seniors, those students were absent (for school business) while the rest of the students were there.

As I started taking roll, I mentioned that there were a lot of absences. The students remarked that the seniors were gone. (I knew this. There were more students missing than would be accounted for by the missing seniors. It turned out that several students were just late to class.) 

This was when the other students "noticed" Marcellus. 

"Wait. Aren't you a senior? You're supposed to be gone..."

At which point Marcellus sputtered and flailed for some excuse. 

They were joking, of course. They had to know Marcellus wasn't a senior. But apparently it's been an ongoing bit that Marcellus claimed to be a senior, so him still being at school had to put an end to the game. 

At least next year Marcellus won't by lying. And hopefully I'll remember that even though he's short, he's not a freshman.

Working the Study Guide

Thursday. Second period math.

Mr. J wasn't giving a cumulative final. Their final test was to be the last chapter test of the school year. And to prepare for that test, Mr. J had left a study guide. 

(Ms. L, the co-teacher of the other math classes, showed me a copy of their test. The study guide was a problem for problem duplicate, the only difference being the numbers used in the problems.) 

I gave them the study guide. And I prefaced the period with, "You know how you get the test, you look at it, and you go blank? And then you tell me you don't know what to do? And I tell you I can't help you? Today, I can help you."

Many of the students took advantage of this help. 

They also were able to utilize their notes. They had a formula sheet that they could use on the test, and they were making notes on that. So, they were making good use of their time.

As was Ava. 

Ava was on it. She was working through those problems. Asking questions. All of it.

At the end of the period, Ava asked if she could come back during lunch for help with the last bit of the study guide. 

Part of me snarled. This girl... She could be little miss attitude so much of the time. But when she wanted something, she was as sweet as could be. 

I kept the snarl inside, though. Because I'm the adult. 

Ava did return at lunch. I did help her with the final three problems. And she did seem to understand what she was doing.

I really do hope she does well on the test. Her grade is still hovering between D and F. She could (barely) pass the class. That's on her. I won't deliberately tank her chances.

(When I'm grading things, I don't notice the names on the papers. Seriously. And if I do notice, I won't mark something off for students I don't get along with. If they give me the right answer, or even if they get in the ballpark, I will give them the score they earned.)

The Mad Scramble

It was Tuesday of the penultimate week of school, and I was back in Mr. J's class.

This was not a surprise. When I took the long term assignment, I was booked for the initial two months, and then these last four days of May. Before leaving the class, on the transition day, I asked Mr. J about it. He confirmed he was taking this week off. (Something about his wife going back to work. He didn't give much detail, and I didn't ask for specifics.)

In anticipation of this reprise, I didn't return the classroom key nor did I return the tablet I checked out for use in the class. I left it on campus, in a cabinet in Mr. J's classroom. (Technically I could have taken it home as it was checked out to me, but I felt more comfortable leaving school tech at school.) 

Before the weekend, Mr. J had emailed me the lesson plans. I went through and printed out the pages I'd need. I perused the lesson just so I was ready. 

On Tuesday, I made sure to leave a bit early so I could retrieve my borrowed tech and set up for the day. (While on the long-term, I tended to leave things ready for the next day as I tend not to be all that alert first thing in the morning.) 

Everything went according to plan. I got checked in, got into the classroom, set up my tablet, and got things ready to go. 

Only, there was a small problem.

The pages I had printed were not the pages containing the notes the students needed. 

Mr. J had sent me a copy of the students' notes. But the copy he gave them and the copy he gave me were not the same. 

(In my copy, pages 15 & 16 were notes on finding the area of regular shapes. In the students' copy, pages 15 & 16 were notes on finding the volume of prisms.) 

Oops. 

I knew there was going to be some hiccup. I'm fortunate that it wasn't a bigger deal.

As luck would have it, I had previewed their online assignment and found the pages that contained those notes. I printed those as well. And it turned out those were the notes I did need. 

Once I figured out where the glitch was, things went smoothly. I got through their notes, and they got a chance to work on their last new assignment for the school year. 

The next class period they would get the study guide for their final test. (The teacher isn't giving a final. The last chapter test is the last test for the class.) 

The school year is almost done. Well, actually, by the time you read this, it will be done. Today, June 5th, is the last day of school (although I'm always a week behind on the blog, so this week I'll continue to have subbing stories). 

Non-Profits

What if? It's the basis of many stories. We ask. We ponder. We wonder. 

On Tuesdays I throw one out there. What if? It may be speculative. It may stem from something I see. It may be something I pull from the news. 

Make of it what you will. If a for instance is not specified, interpret that instance as you wish. And if the idea turns into a story, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements 😉

What if insurance companies weren't run for profit? (That is, what if what was paid in that wasn't used to meet claims or pay personnel was set aside for other years or paid back to the customers as dividends?)

Second Sight

I did not make much progress on the eye sweater this week. I came down with a cold. Plus, I had a migraine for a couple days, too. Resting was more of a priority.

I did manage a little something, though. A second eye.

Why? The sweater has a front and a back...

Considering all the trouble I had with the first eye, and knowing that I'd have to do it a second time, I decided it would make sense to do both at roughly the same time. Since I'm changing colors throughout, I didn't have to have a second skein of any of the yarn. 

And, actually, I can do both front and back roughly concurrently, so they should both look similar. I don't know if that'll make things go faster, but it'll feel like it went faster. (Some knitters will knit two socks or two mittens as the same time for similar reasons.) 

Hopefully I'll make more progress this week. Ideally this cold will be gone. And it's the last week of school. I only have one day scheduled, so I might not have all that much work to do, which means more time for crochet. 

But saying such things has a way of making them not happen, so we'll see how things go.

Eye sweater previous posts:

• Eyeing a New Project
  
• Seeing Some Progress
  

Noted Bravado

Thursday. Eighth grade English. Third period. 

Their final, the next week, was going to be on The Diary of Anne Frank. They had been given a study assignment on it (flash cards on the computer and a brief quiz) and they had an extra credit assignment with questions that went along with watching a video, After the Annex. 

Because eighth graders at the end of the school year, I was circulating to make sure things didn't get crazy. 

"You told Mr. C I was using ChatGPT."

It was Axel. He was not happy. 

So, yes, I absolutely included Axel's name and the incident I wrote about last week. And I said so.

Axel: "He lets me."

Me: Then it wasn't a big deal, was it? 

Because, seriously, when I mention something to a teacher that they do, in fact, allow, I may get a reply that it was fine. If I sub for them in the future, there may be a note in the lesson plan about how such-and-such is allowed. 

Axel: "It, uh, wasn't, but I didn't appreciate that you wrote about me in your note."

I pointed out that that incident was maybe two sentences in a note that spanned three pages. (I was in Mr. C's class for a week. Some things needed to be noted.)

Axel continued to make his displeasure known. Mr. C had gone through my note with the class. (Some teachers do this.) And he didn't like getting called out. 

I moved on. 

Ms. S, the English teacher, had said that they weren't allowed to use cell phones. I told them that they had plenty of work to do. But many still were trying to sneak their phones. They're not very good about being sneaky, but as it was individual work, I wasn't really policing them on it other than to sidle up to them and meaningfully look at their phones. They mostly got the hint.

I passed Axel on my classroom circuit. 

Axel: "I'm not on my phone." As he hid his phone in his pocket. The phone that he was clearly just on. "Please, don't report me."

I think Axel had more of a consequence for his ChatGPT usage than he cared to admit.

(I didn't report him. If I had, I would have made a list of all the students on their phones. I only call out individuals for notable occurrences, like loudly proclaiming that ChatGPT is how they're going to do their work.)

Not the Wanted Help

Wednesday. Seventh grade math, fourth period. Co-taught. 

It had been a difficult period, made way easier by the fact the general ed teacher, Ms. F, was there. (I was subbing for the special ed teacher.) A group of kiddos had gotten into some altercation outside just before the bell, and it had taken some time for Ms. F to get them settled and calm. 

Somehow Ms. F managed to get through the day's lesson (on probability) and the students were working on practice problems on the online program IXL. (After my sojurn in Mr. J's class, I am now quite familiar with the workings of IXL.) 

Jasper raised his hand. I helped him with a couple problems until it seemed like he got the hang of things. I attempted to move on, but Jasper called me over again. And again. 

At a certain point, the student is using the teacher as a crutch, relying on them for validation rather than striving for independent working. And once I recognized that Jasper was expecting me to outline the steps for each problem rather than taking on the task himself, it was time for me to remove myself from his presence. 

Jasper did a couple more problems. Then his hand was in the air again. 

At this point, Ms. F and I were both standing at the back of the room, waiting for other students to ask for assistance. (Most were either working fine or avoiding the work.) 

I wasn't going back to "help" Jasper again as he didn't need me. Ms. F wasn't heading his way either. 

Jasper (on a whine): "But I neeeed help..."

Ms. F and me in unison: "Awww..."

Ms. F and I looked at each other and laughed. If we were kids (and not "under roof"), I would have said "jinx". 

Jasper was not happy his request was met with such derision. The student sitting behind him offered to help. Jasper got the question wrong. 

Deep sigh. 

He did know what he was doing. I promise. As long as I talked him through it, he could do it. He had gotten to the point where he really needed to figure out how to do it without my help.