A collective sigh of relief

Other than the makeups tomorrow, our big bad state test is done.  Now just 10 more school days to kill with a project and final exams and award ceremonies and field trips.

There are a lot of things to be angry about at school, but I get angriest about things like the logistical disasters surrounding state testing.  It just feels like people are dropping the ball and it's seriously impacting kids' performance.  I've been working my tail off to get kids ready, and a lot of the kids have been working really hard too.  And then three separate test rooms didn't have calculators for the kids to use, and the test proctors somehow didn't know they were supposed to get calculators, even after my students raised their hands and asked for them.  It is infuriating.

On the bright side, fewer of my kids had to take the test in the giant cafeteria room, and those who did, had no more than 2 kids per table (last year it was 3) and they said it was fairly quiet (last year they reported a lot of talking).  And all of my special ed kids, whose IEPs state they are legally obligated to a small test room, actually got it this year (last year they were all packed into the cafeteria 3 to a table, while 30 of my non-IEP kids had their own tables in small rooms... this was ILLEGAL and I am still completely furious about it).  So, the improvements are good.  I am afraid that the calculator fiasco will result in a discontinuation of the small test rooms, when really it should cause better test proctor training.  And maybe the testing rooms and proctor names could be distributed more than 12 hours before the test.  These are the infuriating things.  It seems like fixing these issues should be the easy part, compared with the difficulty of teaching "at-risk" "urban" students.

Anyway, there were a few bright spots nonetheless.  A lot of students told me the test was easy, which either means they did really well or they didn't really read the questions and they bombed it.  J from 5th period told me that when she was unsure, she just imagined my voice reading the answer choices, and "picked the one that sounded like what you would say."  This is hilarious, and hopefully it works out for her.

I proctored the test to 10 R2/R3 IEP kids, six of whom were my students.  One of them, J from my homeroom, absolutely aced the open response questions and probably the multiple choice too, and will be my first IEP kid to score proficient (or maybe advanced???).  One of Ms. G's students, C, plodded through the test and then quietly thanked me so sweetly and earnestly for bringing Jolly Ranchers.

And even amid the calculator fiasco there were bright spots.  In one test room, proctored by a history teacher, my student E gave the proctor so much attitude regarding the lack of calculators that the proctor sent someone to find calculators for them.  I am sure she could have advocated for herself in a more appropriate and respectful way, but I am proud that she knew what she was entitled to and stuck to her guns.  On the opposite end of the self-advocacy spectrum, in a room where the proctor essentially told the kids to quit complaining and take the test without calculators, my beloved student R brilliantly stalled for time until the normal test session ended, so he could finish in the extra time room where he was given a calculator.  He is too mild-mannered to contradict the proctor after he asked once, but he is cagey enough to find a way to get what he needs anyway.  That kid is going places out of sheer persistence, and I can't think of an obstacle that will stop him.

Rube Goldberg

I'm trying to gear my kids up for the big state physics test next week, and I am totally baffled by their lack of urgency in getting anything done.  Maybe my memory is failing me, but last year I remember kids getting more serious about completing review activities.  I am afraid that blowing off the review is going to make a lot of kids fail.  Or score lower than they really could score.  But I am at a loss for how to motivate them better.

I introduced our post-test final project, which will be to build a Rube Goldberg machine, and my kids are so eager to work on that, some are even coming in after school to start early.  There is really nothing more fun than sending marbles down ramps and hitting domino chains.

I am toying with the idea of teaching an elective where all we'd do all year is build the biggest, most awesome Rube Goldberg machine ever.  If I was staying at my school for next year, I'd seriously think about proposing it.

John Travoltage

Things are not so great at school lately, but there are bright spots.  The librarian told me recently that some of the freshmen come to the library regularly at lunchtime to play with the PHET simulations on the computers.  I find that to be adorable, especially since I had no idea they were doing it.  The librarian, and the students, are fond of John Travoltage.  So am I, to be honest.

This circuit is not fooling around.

From T's project paragraph: "My project is a serious circuit connecting all components and getting the same current everywhere."

Progress

We have a new district SIS (student information system) and one awesome thing about it is that we now have 17 report card comment options instead of only 12.  The new comments are nothing particularly insightful, mind you, but I am immensely pleased that I can now say "Poor attendance" for the student who showed his face 0 times during the third quarter.  Previously I could only say "Irregular attendance" and that student is nothing if not regular.

You can't make this stuff up

Two sweet, well-mannered, easygoing boys from my 5th period class got in a fight in the cafeteria today, just before my class.  The rest of the class was AMPED when they came into my room, and I was shocked that D. and A. fought, so I was dying to find out the details, but clearly the right teacher move was to try to distract the kids into doing physics work instead.

Later I asked the principal what the story was, and I laughed and laughed.  Which was probably unprofessional.  Oops.

Apparently D. was telling his friends at lunch about the vein that pops out of his forehead when he is angry.  The other boys wanted to see it, and D. said the thing that makes him angriest is when people talk trash about his family.  So T. said something about D's mom, and it didn't work - no vein.

Then A. chimed in with some other comment about D's mom, for purposes of the vein experiment of course, and D. got so mad that he punched A. in the face.  Obviously A. then punched him back, and so on, until they were rolling on the floor fighting.

This is the most hilarious fight story I have ever heard.

The obvious two remaining questions, to which I may never know the answers, unless I abandon all professionalism and ask T. for the scoop tomorrow:
1. What did A say?
2. Did D's vein pop out before he threw the punch?

Compliments, some unintentional

1.  "I don't know why everyone loves you and hates Ms. A [math teacher].  It should be the other way around.  You're the one who sucks."  This was meant as a sincere insult but I took it as a compliment, since it came from J in 3rd period who has already made it extremely clear that he very strongly dislikes me.  What I didn't know is that I was even vaguely popular amongst the majority of students in my crazy rowdy 3rd period.

2.  "Only for this class, because my other teachers don't deserve it."  This was from L in 5th period, regarding her over-the-top awesome amazing projects that she has turned in for every project so far in my class.

It's the end of third quarter, the start of April vacation, 6 weeks until the big state test and 2 months until school is out.  But who's counting?