And yet some more…

When I asked Vaughn if his parents signed his permission form to be in the school play, I got a small insight into their family.
“My dad said I can’t do it.”
“Oh, okay.”
“But my mom said she wants me to.”
“Oh.”
“My mama told me that she’d be mad at him if he don’t let me. She said I’m a play-actor!”
“Ah.”

One of the student’s mothers told me she walked by her son who was standing at attention. When asked what he was doing, he told her he was practicing for the holiday performance. He explained that he had to practice standing for a very long time.
I knew we were drilling too much during those rehearsals.

The kids participate in this computerized reading program where they’re always asking me to look up their scores and points. It takes forever to pull up a student’s information because you have to open all these windows and click on numerous icons. So imagine what it was like when I was looking up one student’s particular score and she stood over my shoulder and narrarated the entire time.
“Yes, now click that…very good, okay…right go over there…no, yes, i meant there….yup, click that…very good…yes, I was going to say to click right there..”
The only thing is that she was about two beats behind the whole time. Kinda like the delay at a football stadium when the referee is talking.

Sometimes I turn around and trip over a student who has been standing there the past five minutes. They don’t even try to get my attention by actually saying something. This was the case yesterday when I turned and was a little startled because Jen was standing at ready with an uncapped glue stick aimed right towards my nose. She also had a positively thrilled look on her face.
“Mrs. Teague! It smells like cheerios!”
And dadgum, it did.

As part of our Elected Officials lesson, the students were told to describe the characteristics of a good leader. One group (made entirely of girls) decided a princess made a perfect kind of leader. Her desirable characteristic? “Pretty.”
Then they illustrated the life sized drawing (yes, a kid laid down on butcher paper and was outlined. Oldie but goodie.)
I noticed the shirt was about a foot away from the skirt.
“Ladies, that shirt seems a little short.”
“Oh, it’s okay, we’re going to draw a belly button.”

Minutes before dismissal, a cell phone went off in class. Yup, a CELL PHONE. I was ready to pounce on someone but everyone seemed shocked. When I narrowed it down to one of two possible bookbags, both girls were white-faced. Finally finding the guilty bookbag, I pulled out a pink phone from Lynn’s bag. She was horrified and said her mom must have put it in there.
A story which may be valid because when it rang again and I answered it her mother thought mistook me for Lynn and started talking to me. In Spanish.
I had to get a bilinguil student on the phone to explain that Lynn can’t have a cell phone in school. (This was interesting because as always when 2nd graders translate, there’s a lot of “what did you tell me to say?”)

And my current favorite:
Remember the anti-social student who asked what color the man was? (see Part 1)
Unfortunately, he slipped into a spiral of being even more anti-social. To the point where he couldn’t even be bribed to work with a partner. He wrote notes to me requesting that he work alone. He preferred to nod or shake his head as communication. He never talked louder than a hoarse whisper. The other students are patient and understanding, but have learned not to expect very much- verbally- from him.
That’s all backstory, all of it.

Then yesterday…
The drama club was having an open casting call for the spring play. I explained that if they couldn’t stand up on their chair and shout out, “Welcome to our show, everyone!” then they may want to try out next year. Cruel, it seems. I know. Some of the kids were able and willing, some realized they were shy and changed their mind about trying out.

Guess who raised his hand?
“Oh..hmm..honey, do you think you stand on your chair and-”

As I was still talking, he climbed right up and let his line ring out in a strong, clear voice, “Hey everyone! And welcome to our show!!”

There was a silence. The room tilted as my brain tried to process what had just happened. My mouth was still open when the classroom spontaneously and unanimously burst into applause. (I think, though I’m not certain, someone even shouted “Bravo”)

My very own Dead Poets’ Society. I have arrived.