There’s an Egg in My Pocket…

Crack!  They kept cracking, with the occasional successful drop.  We were trying out our first attempt at our creations to keep the raw egg from cracking.  I expected them to crack, it was our first trial after all.  I guess I should say I expected them to crack on the ground.  I should have known better…

Students were all around the blacktop.  Wandering.  Celebrating success.   Sulking because of failure.  Waiting for their turn to drop.

And then JJ came up to me.  “Ms. Bless.  Ms. Bless!”  I ignored him. I was talking to another student.  “Ms. Bless.  The egg cracked.”

“It’s alright.  We are going to try again next week.”

“No.  It’s getting in my shoe.  It’s cold.”

I looked at him for the first time.  His expression wasn’t exactly disappointed, more uncomfortable I would say.  His one leg was in an awkward position.  My head tilted to the right reflexively and then I understood….

The egg was in his pocket.  It cracked.  It was dripping down his leg and into his shoe…

“I told him not to put it in his pocket, Ms. Bless.  He didn’t listen.”  Mitchell said shaking her head.

Yep…

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SOL #31 – So long March 2017! We’ll send you off with a song!

The events leading up to this event are a little sketchy and may or may not have taken place during writing workshop.   However, it involves several pig erasers in my student, Al’s possession.  Said erasers were nameless at the time of the slice.20170330_123126

Another student and I suggested the pigs be called Bacon, Hot Dog, and Pork Chop. Al did not find this entertaining.

He continued to brainstorm names, accepting Pork Chop – not because it’s a food, but because it’s just a good sounding name.  He still needed two more…

“Ohhhh!!! Spiderpig!!!”  Al shouted.

And then the low chatter of students raised and then transformed into the singing of Spiderpig – as a class, they sang.  Al danced to a beat (not the beat), eyes closed,  basking in the voices of his classmate’s singing.

“Spider pig, Spider pig.  Does whatever a….”  it didn’t last long, they weren’t all very confident with the words…  But the memory of the impromptu song will last much longer.

After deciding he would write about this for the last slice of March, he said of this event:  “One day the blogs are going to get old and everyone is going to forget it, but I’m never going to forget it.”

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SOL #30 – “Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.”

The sudden changes in mood and conversation with fifth graders still surprises me sometimes often.

I had a couple students at my table during reading workshop today.  We read Langston Hughes’ Mother to Son and were talking about it.  Really they were talking about it and I was listening composing this slice in my head.  It is amazing what these kids are capable of understanding and the conversations they have:

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor –

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

“I’m picturing the son leaving for college.  And the mom is saying that life is going to be hard, but he should keep trying.”

“Yeah, but I think she wrote it on a note.  Cause people don’t just go around and talk in poems.”

“No one’s life is easy.  Everyone has struggles.”

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

“It means there are lots of struggles, obstacles.  She’s saying there are hard things in life.”

“And you think things are better, you’re done.  And then there’s more.”

Don’t you set down on the steps

‘Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now –

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

“She’s telling her son not to give up. ”

“Plus, if you sit on a tack, that would really hurt.”

“And falling off the stairs and landing on tacks and nails…”

The sudden changes in mood and conversation with fifth graders still surprises me sometimes often.

SOL #25 – A Friday Story To Beat All Friday Stories…

Friday.  Their eyes were not on me.  On the iPads or the friend across the room, but not on me.  They weren’t listening either…

“Leave everything at your tables and come over here and sit.”

It didn’t take long until everyone was sitting in front of me.  I sat on the ground with them, legs crossed in front of me and started sharing a few housekeeping details I need them to hear when I noticed the boy in front of me reaching.  It looked like he was reaching toward my foot… My voice trailed off as I watched him.

He slowly reached toward my foot and pulled my cheap green flip flop off.  The whole class was watching  now, quiet.  My announcements forgotten.

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He held the flip flop in two hands, looking at it and turning to the side and back again.  Still we watched, entranced by this confusing turn of events.

Then, to the surprise of everyone, he sniffed my flip-flop. Yes, I kid you not, nose to flip-flop and inhaled.

The silence was broken with the cries of confusion and, frankly, disgust.  “What?!?”  “Gross!”  “Seriously?”

When I inquired the reason for this strange action, all I got was a shrug…  WHAT?!?

SOL #24 – Shadows

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“Have you noticed we are getting shorter by the hour?”

Don’t worry.  No one is actually shrinking.  Today is beautiful.  The sun is shining and it feels like spring.  It is the perfect weather for an investigation into shadows.  We went outside once each hour to trace shadows, observing the changes.

After our third shadow, a student came up to me and asked, “Have you noticed we are getting shorter by the hour?”  🙂

Some days I wish they were shrinking, because most of them are eye level or taller than me…

SOL #23 – “The credit belongs to the man in the arena.”

Excitement filled the gym.  It was our girl’s 4th/5th grade basketball game and the girls were up by several baskets.

One of my students on the team passed by where I was sitting with some fifth grade boys on her way back from the drinking fountain.

“Sally.”  Sally paused and turned to face Billy.  “Sally, did you play in the game yet?”

“Yeah,” she replied.

“Did you score any points?”

“Not in this game.”

“Did you score points in any of your other games?” he asked, starting to smirk.

She nodded, starting to look impatient with his line of questioning.

“How many points?”

“I don’t know.”

“Probably only like two.”

“How many points did you score this year?”

“I wasn’t on the team,” he replied.

“Exactly.”

And she walked away, back to win their second game as a team.  BOOM!  I was so proud of her!  She didn’t let him get to her and she stood up for herself.  You go girl!

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

Theodore Roosevelt