Teachers: Ditch the Guilt

     Today I stayed home from school. This morning I woke up at 5:30 am and felt ill, but like most other teachers I decided that staying home from school would be way more work than going to school with an upset stomach. So I drove to school, arriving at 6:30 am like I do every day. I felt horrible, but I still tried to get my day started. After running to the bathroom about six times, I realized that this would not work once my classroom was filled with boys. Thanks to the exceptional help from two of my amazing teaching partners, I was able to go home.

     After resting for a few hours, my symptoms passed and I started to feel a little better. I decided that since lunch time was almost over and I only had the boys for one more class after lunch, there was no reason for me to get dressed again and head to school. I decided to go to the grocery store instead. While at the grocery store, I started to feel a suffocating amount of guilt.

     Guilt. I felt guilty for "abandoning" my boys. Yes, I was sick most of the day. No, it wouldn't have made sense for me to drive all the way back to school to teach them for a total of 30 minutes. But in those moments at the grocery store, none of that mattered. I had denied them a day of instruction. We would be so behind! How would we catch up? This is all my fault!

     As I left the store covered in these hopeless thoughts, my subconscious screamed, "STOP IT! This is INSANE!" ...and she was right. You see, I can count on one hand the number of sick days that I have used in over three years (which is a minor miracle considering the petry dish that I teach in every day). I get to work 45 minutes early every day and tutor (at no extra charge) on Tuesdays after school. Still - there is guilt.

Unfortunately, this is not the first time, and I am not the first teacher to feel guilt. We always feel as though we could do more. More hands-on activities. More foldables. More intervention groups. More writing. More games. More individual attention to each child. More, more, more. We compare ourselves to other "super teachers" and hold ourselves to their standards. We pour over Pinterest and wonder how these other teachers have the time and energy to come up with this stuff? When our children bomb a test or can't grasp a concept, we feel personally responsible. There is guilt for not feeling like we are giving them more.

   My best friend is one of the hardest working teachers I know. She had a dream of teaching in a low income school district so that she could really make a difference with kids who really needed her. She first taught in a middle school in HISD, and now she teaches in a low income school in Katy. She pours her heart and soul into her job and her kids, but still she feels like she should be doing more.

    My mom taught school my entire life. In her last few years of teaching, she had to start teaching English in addition to her reading curriculum. She worked tirelessly to find fun and creative ways to teach grammar and writing while still meeting the INSANE standards put on her by the state of Texas. She gave 110% until the day she retired (and gave even more when she returned to be a long-term substitute last year). She was always working to give them more, but she still fought guilt over times when she felt as though she wasn't doing enough.

     Now, don't get me wrong. We all beam over success stories and laugh over our silly stories. We all love our jobs and wouldn't trade them for the world, but we all have felt that guilt more than we should....

...and I think it's time we ditch it. We work hard for these kids that we love. We go without certain privileges (a lunch break, being able to use the restroom whenever we want) so that we can serve these kids. And you know what? They're worth it. And you know what else? We deserve better than what we're giving ourselves. We are good teachers. We care about these kids and would take a bullet for any one of them. What we are doing is good, and honorable, and enough. If you are reading this and you're a teacher, then I think you should repeat that out loud: "What I am doing is good, honorable, and enough". Any time you feel as though you're giving everything you have, but you're still not giving enough, just remember...

What you're doing is good, honorable, and enough.

...and then go pour yourself a glass of wine.

Seeing Them Through the Eyes of an Auntie

It's that time of year. The time when flowers start blooming, the sun shines longer and... everyone gets tired of school. Our units are getting harder and harder, it's about time for our testing to start, and everyone gets a little too comfortable with each other. The irony here is that I am writing this after a week long hiatus from school. I am definitely refreshed from my break, but I know that the same worries and problems will be waiting for me in my classroom tomorrow morning.

Don't get me wrong, I am still very much in love with my job. There is nothing else I would rather do with my life. In fact, given the option of not having to work versus teaching, I would choose teaching. There are simply things that come with the job that are hard to deal with.

Where am I going with all of this?

At the beginning of spring break, I spent some time with kids. Lots of kids. Parker, my sweet nephew, turned two on March 6th, and his birthday party was last Saturday, March 9th. There were roughly twelve children at his party who were under the age of seven. Around half of those were under the age of four. Lots of kids. Lots of little kids. One of those boys at the party was my other nephew, Thomas, who is also about to turn two. Thomas is a typical two-year-old boy -- a lot of energy, acts on instinct -- okay he's a typical boy, period. Anyway, I think God was using Thomas to help me have more compassion for some of the boys in my class.

When I think about my nephews (and niece) my heart burns with love for them. I was there when all of them were born, and I helped take care of all of them in their first few weeks of life, especially Thomas. I will love these children unconditionally for the rest of my life, and there is nothing they will ever do that will cause them to lose my love. 

I obviously don't have that same connection with the boys in my class. I love them -- all of them -- but there are times when I get so unbelievably frustrated with them that I just don't know what to do. Without the bonds of blood relations, it can be very hard to maintain a positive relationship with them. I'll think, how can they do something like that? Where is their self-control? Don't they know better? What are their parents doing wrong? I can't deal with them any more!

Well, spending time with Thomas is the best way to answer these questions. As I said before, Thomas is a typical two-year-old. He acts on instinct. Sometimes things don't go his way, and he lashes out as any two-year-old does. When this happened at Parker's party, I calmly dealt with it by putting Thomas in time out, explaining why what he did was wrong, and having him go apologize for what he did. [It's always hard disciplining my nephews because they have me wrapped around their little fingers, but I know it has to be done.] 

What was so different about this instance of discipline, was that I could see some of my boys in Thomas. I could see the ones with little self-control, the ones who act without thinking, the ones who usually get fussed at a lot, and I thought, "These boys in my class are someone's nephews. They're someone's children. They have people wrapped around their little fingers, too. They deserve unconditional love and forgiveness in the same way that my sweet little Thomas does." I thought about how I will want Thomas's teachers to treat him in the future, and the patience and compassion that I hope and pray they will have with him. I thought about how I need to have all of those qualities now, with these boys.

It is a little different since my boys are ten and eleven-year-olds and Thomas is barely two, but it isn't much different. They're all children. They need gentleness, understanding, and grace. They definitely need discipline and a firm hand, but only when its motivation is love and guidance.

So thank you, Thomas. Thank you for being a blessing in my life in so many ways, and thank you for teaching a lesson to this teacher who still has a lot to learn.

Things 5th Grade Boys Say: Part Drei

Once again, for your reading pleasure, I have managed to pull together some of the silliest moments from my time in the classroom with 27 boys...and their shenanigans.

Here goes nothin'....

The Clogged Urinal

There was a week last semester in which one of the urinals in the boys' bathroom somehow became clogged.  It's not hard to guess how this happened...bathroom breaks inevitably become an extension of recess because they know I will never, EVER step foot in that bathroom to actually witness the havoc that is wrought behind that door.

Anyway, throughout this week the boys kept telling me that one of the urinals was clogged and I kept sending in work orders, but it wasn't getting fixed. And then...it overflowed. Big time. And one-by-one they all came into the room informing me of the ...contents... that were spilling over onto the floor.

My favorite commentary was from one boy who came in from the bathroom and sat down with a look of disbelief on his face. He just sat there, shaking his head, and said, "I just don't understand how anyone could possibly pee that much!"

An Old Soul

So... one of the boys, despite being very immature, has a very old soul. I think he's treated like an adult at home, and I know he watches grown-up TV shows, so that probably has some effect on him. He's one of those kids who drives me absolutely nuts, but as soon as I'm ready to strangle him he puts me into a fit of laughter. 

One day during our vocabulary lesson, I noticed he was totally zoned out -- in another galaxy. I turned to him and said, "Earth to Joshua!"

His reply?

"Grooouund control to Maaaajor Tom"

Out of the mouth of a 10-year-old. Unbelievable.

Seizures?

A few weeks ago, I had the boys break up into small groups. They were all working together on some math problems, and everything seemed to be going swimmingly. Then, one of the boys started twitching his arms and legs and shaking his body in a very bizarre way. (This is not unusual for this child and wouldn't have even made this blog had the following comment not been issued...)

Upon seeing this, one of the boys in his group casually asked, "Joseph, are you having seizures again?"

(Just so you know...this boy doesn't have seizures and wasn't actually having a seizure.)

The Fart Heard Round the Room

I briefly covered this story in my Facebook status yesterday, but I felt it deserved a longer explanation. 

We had settled into the classroom post-recess, and were quietly working on our math test. I was grading papers at my desk when I heard it...

It was one of those farts that could have been the movement of the chair or desk on the floor...and it takes your mind a minute to process what you just heard, and decide whether you want to believe it was a fart or not...but it was very obvious to me what it was. A fart.

I didn't look up because I was laughing uncontrollably. Yes, I still laugh at farts. I will probably laugh at farts until I'm 90 years old. I teach 5th grade boys...there is a ceiling to the amount of maturity I will be able to reach.

Anyway, as I was laughing and trying to hide my face, I started hearing snickers around the room. And then I hear something you will ONLY hear in a classroom (or group) of boys: the admission of guilt.

"Guys...I am so sorry. I did not mean to do that. I really thought I had it under control."

Well, this made everyone laugh more. And then, of course, they all look over at me, my head in my hands, convulsing with laughter, and everything falls apart.

I decided this was a good time for the poop talk, so I said to them, "Guys, here's the deal. Children generally have to go number two about 45 minutes after they eat. It's been about that long since lunch. Sometimes when you have to go number two you get gassy. This is totally normal. Everyone goes number two, and everyone gets gassy sometimes. Let's try to get past it."

This is when one of the boys near me leaned over and said, "Ms. Hebert...I need a gas mask for this room!"

-------------------

Now I'm just going to list a bunch of funny situations that aren't long enough for me to type into stories, but were still funny enough for me to talk about. Imagine the following as a montage of funny boy-isms.

------------

A boy comes back into class after using the bathroom with a huge grin on his face -- "for no reason".

A boy casually walks off the playground with a bloody nose, looks at me, and just keeps walking, right on to the nurse's office.

A boy falls out of his chair in the middle of class for no reason.

Two boys break the strip of wood of the kneelers in chapel "on accident" on the same day.

One of the boys gets his legs twisted in the arm holes of his gym bag while he's walking to PE.

A boy falls out of his chair in the middle of class for no reason.

A boy finds a tooth in the mulch on the playground and asks what he should do with it.

When given the "mean teacher look", for who-knows-what reason, a boy responds, "I have a condition."

A boy falls out of his chair in the middle of class for no reason.

---------------

I hope that paints a good picture! 

Until next time!

My Own Little World

There is a boy in my class this year who is special. Special meaning different, special meaning challenging, special meaning -- amazing. I want to talk about my experience with him from start to present, and how he is changing my outlook on teaching, and I'm going to do so with a song. The lyrics to the song "My Own Little World" my Matthew West have a lot to do with the reason my heart has softened toward this boy.

Here is the video if you want to listen to the song before reading:

Matthew West - My Own Little World

In my own little world it hardly ever rains. I've never gone hungry, always felt safe. I've got some money in my pocket, shoes on my feet. In my own little world, population: me.

 When I came into teaching in a private school, I had a lot of preconceived notions. After growing up in public school and doing all of my college experiences in public school, I knew about challenging kids and "different" kids and needy kids. When I got hired at St. Thomas', I thought, "Wow! I'm going to have the cream of the crop! Of course some of the boys will have their own little issues, but nothing too big." 

You see, I've never had a strong desire to help low functioning students. That may sound callous, but my passion is for the content I'm teaching. I am good at breaking concepts down for the students and explaining things in different ways, but I do not have an innate desire for helping children with special needs. This is why teaching at a private school would be perfect for me -- more of a focus on content and less on ARDs, behavior intervention plans, modifications, etc.

So last year, my first year at STE, I had a group of extremely bright boys with a few lower functioning students mixed in. The lowest boy in the class had no social issues, so his main problem was academics. I struggled with him quite a bit, but I could at least count on him to get along with his classmates.

Fast forward to this year: I have twenty seven boys, five of whom are new, and one of whom is very, VERY behind socially, and has anxiety issues which affect his academics. I found out about these issues gradually. I started noticing some outbursts in class, awkward interactions with the boys, and a lot of tears. It wasn't until around the fifth week that I received official information on him and his special needs.

My first thoughts: What the heck?! Why was this boy allowed in to the school? We shouldn't be taking kids like him! I've got enough on my plate being a self-contained (teaching all subjects) teacher with 27 boys...how could they let in a boy with special needs?

Part of my reaction was justified. Our school simply is not as equipped as other schools to handle children with special needs. We don't have FOCUS mentors like public school does, nor do we have specialized counselors.......

Most of my reaction was selfish. 

What if there's a bigger picture? What if I'm missing out? What if there's a greater purpose that I could be living right now? Outside my own little world......

I talked things over with my mom, and she told me a story about a boy that she almost taught in Orange. She said that she knew about him, and had heard he was trouble. Her principal wanted to place him in her class, but I was a newborn, and my brothers were little -- she had a lot on her plate. She asked the principal to please place him in a different class, and he did. That year, the boy moved into a dilapidated trailer near my family's house. She noticed he was alone most of the time and invited him to play with Mark and Pat in the afternoons. The worst part of the situation was what she saw at school. When she looked out her window across at his classroom, she would periodically see his teacher pull him outside and berate him while his classmates looked on through the window and laughed.

She said she never forgave herself for pushing that boy off on someone else, and wanted me to consider how another teacher could possibly treat my boy if I pushed him away.

Stopped at a red light, looked out my window. I saw a cardboard sign that said, "Help this homeless widow." And just above that sign was the face of a human. I thought to myself, "God, what have I been doin?  

So after I found out all of the information I could on my boy, I scheduled a conference with his mother and our head of lower school. The point of the meeting? We need to see change in two weeks or else.... well, you know where I'm going with that. Or else he's out. Or else he's someone else's problem.

I was prepared to be concise in the meeting. I was prepared to be strict and straightforward, and I was not prepared to budge. I mean, this woman withheld information about her son to get him into the school! How dare she!!! They should be punished!!

So I rolled down the window and I looked her in the eye. Oh, how many times have I just passed her by? I gave her some money then I drove on through and my own little world reached population: two.

As you would probably guess, that is not how the meeting went. His mother's nerves were enough to soften my demeanor. As we discussed his problem areas, his therapist, who joined us for the meeting, provided a huge deal of insight on the boy as well as how I can help him. The tips she gave me were not time consuming nor labor intensive -- they were simple, quick ways to help him in the moment.

God was working on my heart.

What if there's a bigger picture? What if I'm missing out? What if there's a greater purpose that I could be living right now? Outside my own little world......

 My whole demeanor towards this boy changed after that meeting. Once I stopped seeing him as a nuisance, a waste of time, a whiny baby, someone who shouldn't be at this school, and started seeing him as a boy -- a little boy with some issues that he needs help fixing...a little boy who God obviously put in my life for a reason -- my whole persona changed.

And guess what happened? He changed. He became more receptive to me. He didn't get mad at me when I tried to help him in class. He talked to me more. He smiled more!

And guess what else happened? The other boys noticed. They started playing with him more and including him more at recess. They started listening to him more. They changed because I changed.

Father, break my heart for what breaks yours. Give me open hands and open doors. Put your light in my eyes and let me see that my own little world is not about me.

God opened my eyes. He reminded me that it is not about me -- it's never about me. My mission on earth is to serve others and to bring God glory in the process. What am I doing by turning my back on one of his own? And a child nonetheless! I'm certainly not fulfilling my mission.

It is still a process. My boy still struggles socially and it will be a hard year for him, but thanks to the encouragement of my family and fellow teachers -- and, ultimately, God -- he has a special place in my heart. I pray that God continues to soften my heart and helps me to love all of my students, regardless of whatever issues they may have.

Things 5th Grade Boys Say: Part Deux

As always, I come to you after a bit of a hiatus. I had grand plans to blog all summer and then...nope. I don't have an excuse, either. It was probably because I had nothing to put off. I usually blog because I should be doing something else, like grading papers or entering grades.

I do have some new (and old) funny things to write about. Again, I will open with this disclaimer: a lot of these situations may only be funny to me, because I have the ....pleasure?...curse?... of knowing and dealing with these boys. Without the appropriate voice inflections and facial expressions, some of these stories don't have the same effect as when they happened in real life. I have also changed names for privacy's sake.

I will try my best.


Distracted Urinator
This is one that happened last year, towards the beginning of the year, actually. The boys were all headed out to the playground for lunch and recess. I was about to close and lock up the room, when one of the boys came in and said,
 "Ms. Hebert, Jacob peed all over the bathroom floor."

At this point, Jacob came in the room.

"Jacob, is this true?" I asked.

His reply:

"Yes... but it's only because while I was going, Michael started talking to me, and I forgot what I was doing and turned to talk to him."

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. This boy forgot he was peeing, and turned, mid-urination, to reply to his classmate. You can't make this stuff up.

Ace Ventura Hair
We recently had some extremely hot weather. Our playground is surrounded by buildings, and is about 10 degrees hotter in the summer, and 10 degrees colder in the winter. Regardless of the weather, you can always count on the boys to run around constantly, completely unphased by the oppressive, nauseating heat. We'd always have to have a cool-down time in the classroom after recess to recover from the surface of the sun that we had been playing on.

On one of these particularly hot days, the boys were cooling off in the classroom right after recess. All was mellow, until I heard some snickering. I looked up, and one of the boys had styled his sweaty hair to look like Ace Ventura. For those unfamiliar with Ace Ventura....

Of course, after this boy did this and got some laughs, the rest of the boys turned into Ace Ventura clones, thanks to their sweat-drenched hair.

Doritos Mouth
This past week, I picked up on a very funny incident during snack time. The boys who sit in the group right next to my desk were all talking about - who knows what they were talking about. Two of them are HUGE talkers who talk a mile-a-minute, incessantly. I guess one got fed up with the other, and I heard him say, "Dude, I will give you five Doritos if you will just stop talking for the rest of snack time."

I thought this to be HILARIOUS since the one who made the request is the biggest talker out of the class. I called him out on it too, obviously.

I told him, "Don't you think it's funny that you - the person who talks the most, always, everywhere, at any given time of day - would be bribing someone ELSE to stop talking??"

His only response was a huge smile with a mouth full of Doritos.

Buzzards at a ... Funeral Home?
Since the weather was so lovely last week, we ate lunch outside on the playground. Some of the boys were sitting on the ground next to the bench where I was sitting. They were chatting away about this and that, when they started talking about what they'd seen on different road trips they had been on. One of the sweet, innocent, adorable ones was talking about driving to Austin the week before, and passing a funeral home.

"So we're driving back from Austin, and we pass this funeral home. There are buzzards EVERYWHERE...all over the parking lot and on top of the building, and I just thought, 'There must be a whole lot of dead people in there!"'

Bathroom Shakes
One of the battles a teacher often has to deal with is phony bathroom requests. Since I give scheduled bathroom breaks, my rule is that you may only go to the restroom if it's an emergency. Emergency means you are going to pee yourself in the next five minutes.

Well, the boys weren't really getting this rule. They were totally abusing it during the first two weeks of school. You get to the point where you can tell if it's really an emergency by the way they ask. If they're asking casually, it's probably not a very pressing issue. When it IS an emergency, there is a certain pleading look in their eyes, and they're usually bouncing around and shaking their body.

I, unfortunately, made the mistake of telling them the signs of a bathroom emergency, so now they'll come up to me and WAY overexaggerate the pleading eyes and bouncing around. As annoying as it is...it's also pretty funny.


On a serious note....

Strong Enough
This story is more serious than funny. The boys have a memory verse that they must memorize every week for a quiz, and then random classes are chosen to recite the verse in chapel on Friday. This past week's memory verse was Philippians 4:13 - "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength". As I was driving to school on Wednesday morning, I was listening to a song by Matthew West called "Strong Enough". The song is about how we're not strong enough to handle things on our own, but God is strong enough to help us through anything. In the end of the song, Matthew West says, "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength, and I don't have to be strong enough."

Here is the song:

I decided to play the song for the boys and have them follow along with the lyrics on the smartboard. At the end of the song, I explained its meaning and how lucky we are to be at a school where we can openly talk about our faith and values. I told them that even though they're young, some of them have been through hard things and have had to rely on God for strength. (So true, as one of them has a brother battling brain cancer, many have divorced parents, among many other issues.) I also told them that even if they haven't been through any big trials, they will probably experience hardships at some point in their life and will need to know that God is always there for them.

When I finished talking, one of them raised his hand.

He said, "When my parents got divorced, it was really hard. My sister cried a lot, but I didn't cry. It still hurt really bad, but I know God was there for me."

Such a sweetheart, and such pure and strong faith. I had to compose myself before I could talk again.





That is about all I have for now. I am positive that there will be more silly things happening, and hopeful that there will be more inspirational things happening.

Until next time!

Terror on I10

I am going to recount to you the events that occurred on Saturday, the twelfth of May, in the year two thousand twelve. Allow me to preface this by saying that I have never been in a car accident, or anything dramatic relating to a car, with the exception of a few fender benders. Therefore, while you may deem this as over dramatic, it was the scariest thing that has ever happened to me.


Prepare yourself.


I love the beach. I had been dying to go to the beach for a very long time, and I had decided that this would be the weekend. I had taken a personal day on Friday in celebration of Katie C's birthday weekend, (and because my personal days don't roll over to next year so...I needed to use it,) and Rachel had come in to town, so our plan was to roll down to Galveston and acquire a healthy glow whilst taking in the sounds and smells of the vast, turquoise blue (HA!) waters of Galveston.

Because Mother Nature likes to bitch-slap any plans Rachel and I ever make involving visits to bodies of water, we decided to schedule massages on Friday due to the overwhelming threat of rain in the forecast. Of course, Friday turned out to be a gorgeous day, but our massages were definitely worth it.

Fast forward to Saturday.

After a night of singing and dancing in our private karaoke room at Kung Fu, Rachel and I decided that the best way to recover would be to mosey on down to Galveston and bathe in the sun. We donned our bathing suits, grabbed our supplies, and were on our way. We were a bit flustered as we drove down Montrose; we weren't aware of the Art Car Parade that was blocking Allen Parkway, but we got past the congestion and were happy to be travelling at rapid speeds again.

I merged onto I10 from the feeder and dodged cars across the lanes so that I could get to the exit lane for I45 south. Even on a Saturday at noon, the 45 south lane was clogged, so we were idling for a little while before something strange happened. When I tried to press on the brake pedal, I had a really hard time pressing it down and almost rolled into the car in front of me. Once we finally came to a halt, my car shut off.

SHUT OFF. Wouldn't accelerate, wouldn't start, the wheel locked...and we FREAKED OUT.

Rachel knew something was wrong when my brake pedal wasn't working, because I started getting a bit nervous, and then when the car stopped, I said, "Oh my God, Oh my God! My car turned off! What do I do??!!??"

"CALL 911!!!"

I've never called 911, but this did seem to constitute an emergency as we were sitting ducks in the middle of one of the busiest highway stretches of Houston. In case you're confused about where we were, we were on I10 eastbound, about 100 yards before the split for I45. One of the busiest stretches of highway in Houston.

I gave 911 my information and hung up. All there was to do now was wait, (and make a comment about how Rachel and I will NEVER EVER make it to the beach in this lifetime.) I stared, terrified, in my rearview mirror just waiting for an oblivious speed demon to turn us into a little, crumpled, black soda can. Luckily, two very nice men stopped traffic in the left lane, got out of their cars, and pushed us over onto the shoulder.

Once on the shoulder, one of the angels who helped us gave me the number of the closest towing company. In my frenzied state, I forgot that I had roadside assistance and called the towing company. They were 60 minutes away, so I called about three more towing companies before finding out that only certain tow trucks can tow cars from a major highway. Here comes a rant.

--

In Houston, two trucks are ALWAYS WAITING AND READY to tow cars out of parking lots. I just thought they were stationed at every other intersection waiting to pounce on the latest driver's indiscretion. Because of my experiences and the experiences of my friends with tow trucks, I just assumed that a few of them would be racing each other for the opportunity to sink their chains into my car. The ONE TIME I actually needed a tow truck, I couldn't get one.

--

Rachel and I waited for an hour. We were told that the highways had surveillance cameras and would dispatch a truck to us soon, but it never came. Wanna know who else never came? THE POLICE. They never came by to check on us, even after we called. One of them drove by, and as he passed we read, "To Protect and Serve" on his rear end. Shyeah. Right.

So I'm on the phone with my mom, about to die of heat exhaustion, when I decide to try and start the car again. It started! There was no Check Engine light on or anything, and I had taken my car in about a month ago to get work done, so I knew it was up to date on most everything. Since my dad was mowing the lawn and didn't hear his phone ring, I called Pilar's dad to get his opinion on whether or not I should drive home. He felt like my car had probably just gotten water vapor in something or other (it had rained profusely the night before) and the car had shut off as a safety feature. Gee thanks, Mazda. If they have the technology to incorporate a safety feature like that, couldn't they just program a lady's voice to say, "Pull your car over now or you will die"? A car turning off mid-highway is a pretty laughable "safety feature", but I guess that's better than the possible alternative of a fiery explosion or something of the like.

Anyway, after getting the go-ahead from Mr. McKay, Rachel and I just drove on home. That's the part that makes us laugh the most.

So how did it end?

I just turned my car on and we drove home.

Classic.

I hope I was able to convey just how horrific this event was. It's a little funny in hindsight...but still terrifying.

Things 5th Grade Boys Say: Part I

Well, as promised, I am going to attempt to record some of the "things 5th grade boys say" for your reading pleasure. Please take note that I have found these things funny because I saw them firsthand, and witnessed some necessary facial expressions/tones of voice that were, perhaps, what made the situation so funny. That being said, I will try to set the scenes very clearly by leaving no detail behind.

**All names have been changed to protect the privacy of my little knucklehead boys

The Vomiter
So I'm standing in the front of the room in the middle of a math lesson, when one of the boys gets up and starts walking to the door. He walks right in front of me and I say, "Reagan, what are you doing? You can't just walk out of the room during the lesson!"

He stops, casually removes his hand from his mouth and says with a lisp and his mouth half full, "I vomited."
Most of the hilarity was in how casual he was about the whole thing...and that he said vomited.

The Breakdancer
When the boys have more than one test during a morning block or they've just been working really hard on something, I reward them with a "brain break", which is basically a 5-10 minute dance party. I'll play anything from Deadmau5 to Skrillex to the Beach Boys to Footloose...just depends on the mood. I've seen a lot of funny dance moves, but the best was when I looked over to find my most squirrelly boy break dancing in the middle of the room. I'm talking spinning on his head and everything. The next time I looked over, one of the boys was holding him up by his ankles. Of course I put a stop to it, but I was dying.

The Neckties
On Monday through Thursday, the boys wear navy polo shirts and khaki slacks or shorts as their uniform. On Fridays, they wear light blue button-down shirts with a navy blue necktie and khakis. Early on in the year, when they actually remembered to wear their Friday uniforms, they would always set a funny scene in chapel. (For those who don't know, St. Thomas has a 30 minute chapel service every day that the entire school goes to. It's pretty old school, and I love it, but the boys get pretty bored most of the time.) The ties become a pretty good source of entertainment. One time in particular, I was standing at the end of a pew and looked down the pew to find that all of the boys had their ties in different positions: one had tied his into a bow, another had wound his into a flower shape, while another had wrapped his around his neck, and the last one was chewing on his. Oh, and one of them had tucked his ears inside themselves. They all turned and looked up at me in unison like little puppy dogs. I lost it.

Mnemonic Devices
One day, post recess, we made our obligatory bathroom and water breaks after coming in from the playground. Two of the boys had been in the bathroom for a while, so I asked another boy to go check and see if they were being silly or if they were taking care of business. He came back and announced, "They're pooping." Upon hearing this, one of the other boys piped up and said, "Yeah, when I was in there, they were just sitting on the toilet discussing mnemonic devices."

Seriously, you can't make this stuff up.

Monster Dump
Along that same subject...I mean, I could write volumes about poop and fart stories....there was another funny bathroom incident. I always let them go to the bathroom right after recess. For those not used to children, a lot of them have to poop about 45 minutes after eating a meal. I didn't make that up, my student teaching adviser told me that, and she was so right. Some of them are like clockwork. Anyway, they were all using the bathroom after recess, and they kept coming in and whispering about something. When I listened closely, I heard things like, "I tried flushing three times!" and "I've never seen one that big!". My fears were confirmed when one of the more obnoxious boys came in and said, "Who did that, and what did you eat??????" Apparently, someone had done some damage, and the damage would not flush. I may be considered a grown up, but poop still makes me laugh, and I laughed. Very hard.



I'm thinking of more and more funny things as I type, which leads me to think that I should write these in parts. Hold on to your pants because I WILL keep up with this and entertain you with more disgusting and entertaining 5th grade boy-isms.