Field Day Kicked My Butt

Our annual homage to all things physical started with the chicken dance in the gymnasium at 8:30 AM today. It didn't end until I danced to the mariachi band playing on the playground at 1:45 PM. We played hard today.

Oh yeah. Test scores came this afternoon, too. Only one surprise right out of left field. Creepy principal's daughter passed (BIG HURRAH) and my one kid who I lamented over endlessly passed, too. However, Bob Marley didn't make it through Math and neither did another one of my geniuses who hasn't got a lick of sense. The thing I discovered, though, was that 14 of the 17 kids who didn't make it through math this year were taught by the same teacher in the same class. We do math compacting, which is a fancy way of saying we departmentalize by ability. The majority of the kids who didn't pass were in the lowest class and were served by not one, but two, math teachers. I'm not sure what to say - because all of those kids who failed were not helping themselves - these were the ones who never did any work, who goofed off quite a bit and didn't have much parental support. Even my AP said that one of the kids in my homeroom who failed the math section spent more time playing and staying in trouble than he did worrying about working. Oh, yes. She was referring to Bob Marley.

And speaking of Bob, his mother made an appointment last Wednesday for a conference with the 5th grade team to see what could be done for him and his failing grades. (Are you kidding me?) We had eight days of school left when we had this conference. She reported to us that Bobby was an A/B student and that this was quite unusual for him. It was all that I could do to stay in my seat. I've seen the perm record. The only A s and B s in it are in his name.

Now come on. Bob isn't an A/B student and he isn't gifted. The other members of my team laid it on the line. He doesn't work. He thinks he can get by with his charm. He is lazy. He doesn't write down any assignments and he is completely unmotivated. I finally said that if he didn't pass the Big State Test, I was going to recommend that he be retained in the 5th grade.

All hell didn't break loose, but I think it was close.

So, now Bob and some of his closest friends are going to get a shot at summer school. If they pass the test, they get to go to 6th grade. If not, we get to discuss their futures.

Can't wait.

Conference Week Roundup

• Bob Marley's mom came - late - apple doesn't fall far from the tree - and she told me that she doesn't agree with him having to take the Super Big State Test because she knows that he is smart; she believes he is almost gifted (!), but I told her I had neither written nor passed the legislation, I just had to get him through the test. I also told her that he was basically counting on his fingers when we were doing timed multiplication tests. That he was reading at least two grades below grade level. That he can't string coherent sentences together. She found that hard to believe. I want to know what part of FantasyLand she is living in and when I can get my condo.
• The sweetest kid in my class is also the MOST unorganized boy in my room. He might win an award for being one of the most unorganized kids I have ever met. His parents came today and his dad (Mr. Trial Attorney/Mr. Anal Retentive/Mr. BlueTooth in His Ear ALL THE DAMNED TIME/Mr. Indiana Jones Hat on His Head) asked what he could do for his kid. (How sweet to hear those words.) I assured him that half the kids had the same problem and I suggested that Mr. Anal Retentive come one afternoon and give a pep talk, organizational lecture on how to keep your desk, notebook and backpack organized. AND HE SAID YES.
• Only one parent stood me up.
• No one yelled.
• No one cried.
• I understand my kids SO MUCH after seeing and hearing their parents.
• The ones in denial are in deep, deep denial (she knows her facts at home) but everyone else understands what strengths and weaknesses their children have.
• Scary Principal Daddy is a pompous ass. If he can be in administration in this county, your monkey's uncle could probably be in administration.
• I came home and slept the sleep of the dead. (Chinese food all around) Conference week is the most mind boggling, time consuming, life sucking week of the year. There has to be a better way and somebody's monkey's uncle needs to find it.

The Week That REALLY Kicked My Butt

My word. Will it ever end? I can do these conferences in my sleep. Grades, Iowas, CRCT concerns, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I am beginning to sound like Charlie Brown's school teacher.

Scary Principal Daddy came today with his ex-wife and brrrrr, was there a chill in the air. She couldn't have given him a colder shoulder if she had brought some dry ice with her. (And you know what? A freaking cold front slammed through right about the same time. It was scary, I tell you.) Damn. I could hardly talk, what with watching the two of them not. He sort of threw me, because of his last exhibition but he put on his party manners today and behaved. Now, I don't know what's up with that because he can be an ASS. Am I waiting for the other shoe to drop? You bet I am.

I have been ever so cautious this week - you never know who is coming to a conference, gunning for you. I have two tomorrow that could go bad in the blink of an eye or they could be just peachy. You never know.

Conference Week

In the past, our county has mandated two conference weeks; one in the fall and one in the spring. Apparently, we have wasted too much time with parents by doing this, so this year, the powers that be decided to consolidate our conferences into January conference week. Five days of conferences, starting the day after the MLK holiday. All of these days are early release days which mean that I lose the little darlings at 12:10. I'm just getting warmed up at 12:10, people. By said dismissal, we've had to cram in our specials and lunch. My team insists on teaching math and then I insist on a little Social Studies and Reading. And bibbidy bobbidy boo... the school day is magically over and parents begin to invade my private space.



Today wasn't as bad as I expected. Of course, there was the parent who told me her daughter did know her math facts at home. (Well, she doesn't know them or won't do them at school. She managed to get an F in math from her math teacher - phew- it wasn't me - but, by golly, she knows her facts.) And, I haven't had my conference with scary assistant principal daddy. So, we'll see how it goes. After all, tomorrow is Wednesday.