Macbeth, Act V, Scene v, 19-28

And as we roll into the first auspicious day of July, we find ourselves beginning to near the end. By my count, there remain 9 more classes left in this program, spanning a short two weeks (hoo-ah). Now that the prospect of not having to create lesson plans every day, and babysit 90 screaming kids, is slowly creeping into that fuzzy corner of my eye (where most ghosts, spectres, and bogeymen are spotted), my mind is reeling with project ideas. So many ideas and inspirations birthed in the twilight hours of all-nighters, late night conversations, and mid-morning brunches deferred to a less hectic time. Well, that less hectic time is perhaps a stone's throw and a half away, and I'm getting excited. But we must see each project through to the end with dignity and poise. So let us recap:

Today we continued fingerprinting with the remaining classes. Luckily, I had most of the older kids, who could work self-guided which made my life easier. I even had time to take pictures:

I had them put their prints on an index card and we played a guessing/matching game.

But what would this summer job be without a little bit of stress and turmoil, eh?

The inspector came today. Let me rephrase that. The inspector who gives us our licensing that allows us to operate came today. I had actually forgotten, which was not a good way to start the day. A few moments before the inspector got to my class, one of the administrators called my class to tell me she was coming, sending an "oh sh*t" shiver (alliteration!) through my spine as I realized that I had the A group, the littlest ones, next. Usually, 50% of this class is spent getting them to sit down and be quite. 10% is relegated to controlling each M----- and A--, which usually involves me assigning them a special chair in the back of the room, and shooting them dirty looks when they start talking. 30% is reserved for bathroom and water breaks, since the junior leader who is supposed to take care of this while I'm teaching is never there, and I'm forced to take the whole class to the bathroom each time, lest one of the kids has and accident. The remaining 10% is left for actual teaching, which is honestly more than I expect with these kids.

Anywho, the inspector had the perfect timing to come visit my class while I had these youngsters. And this progressed as usual, with mayhem and chaos. They were especially rowdy today, forcing me to turn off the lights at one point just so I could get their attention. Those little clapping games other teachers use to get their kids attention? Doesn't work when half those kids are screaming at the top of their lungs about a bird that wandered into the class. More screaming ensued when I told them we were using pencil lead (graphite) to take their fingerprints, as they thought I was trying to poison them. A lot of coaxing and coddling. But everyone got their prints taken. No one was killed (except a little part of me that loved teaching), and I supposed we passed the inspection. I could see the inspector giving me sympathetic looks during her visit. But really, does it even matter? There are only two weeks left in the program, what would taking away our license really do? I've already made a good chunk of change from this job, and I think the kids have learned a lot as it is. But still, it's nice to meet the approval of your somewhat-superiors.

Here's today's shirt pocket:

The inventory: 12 pencils of various lengths and sharpness, a pair of scissors, a pack of 100 index cards, two American flags (which were confiscated after I told them to stop playing with them in class. They were returned. Eventually), 3 dry-erase pens, a rubber band, and a spork.


And since July 1st was apparently a special day (some of my kids were hounding me for not wearing red, white or blue, since it was 3 days before the 4th of July [who knew that three days before a holiday was special?], and decided to pinch me as if it were Saint Patty's day), my loyal readership, I have a two-fer-one deal. Act now, and you get not one overly burdened shirt pocket, but TWO!

This second pocket contained: a pencil, an ipod nano (1st generation), another confiscated American flag (not returned), and a stash of 4 Starlight mints (from a bag which are so old, the hard candies have now become taffy-like. Chewing them relieves some stress, and leaves my breath minty fresh.)

Tomorrow I am going to school to help chaperon a trip to Chinatown with the morning session. I apparently will be chaperoning a mixed group (with kids from each of the 6 groups) of the "good" kids. And E----. I get E----. I'm loosing patience with E----. He's a brat and a bully, and I would have hated him as a kid. But I'm older and slightly more patient now, and hope that this horribleness is a phase he will grow out of. But we'll see. There's much time left for us to see.

Catechism: Catholics Are Funny

The week thus far has been a very teacher-y week. Allow me to catechize you:

What do you mean by this?
I mean that I've had to do a lot of teacher related things, rather than educator things.

Aren't they are the same thing?
No. As an educator, I'm responsible for teaching them science, and making sure they're learning the material. As a teacher, I have to break up fights, put people in time out, and hound people about doing homework.

Why haven't you been doing teacher-y things thus far?
Well, I've been trying to avoid them. I've come to realize I don't want to be a teacher (particularly an elementary school teacher). I love talking science, and showing kids why I love science, but I hate having to discipline and yell. I'm a kind-hearted, gentle giant. Plus, some of these kids are brats, and I've been trying to not get worked up over these little pills.

What have you had to do today, Mr. Sakimoto?
Well, as always, N---- and E---- got in a fight. I've come to realize that as smart and brilliant as E---- is, he's a bully. And I told him so. He did not like this. I think his opinion of me is starting to turn, because I made him sit on the side and write for half the class for bullying N----. He did not like this either. I don't think I'm his favorite person in the world. Good. I have no tolerance for the cruel-hearted.

What else have you had to face, Mr. Science?
Well, aside from the usual yelling and scolding, we had a practice fire drill. Not a fire drill, but a practice for the practice fire evacuation exercise. Yup. I had the youngest group, which includes young A--, form whom I had to confiscate a number of things to make sure he listened. I also made him my special friend, which mandated that he stand next to me during the fire drill, and sit in a special chair during class, pretending he's a statue (meaning he can't talk and can't move).
I also had to crack down on this one kid D----, who refuses to write in his journal, as everyone is supposed to. When he does write, he copies what someone else write. But he copies it wrong. I asked him to write something about the difference between animal cells and plant cells. He wrote that animal cells have cell walls while plants don't, which is downright wrong. After arguing with him for 10 minutes, he ran out of the class to cry. It felt good.

As an educator, I did fingerprinting with the kids. Using graphite from a pencil, we transferred their thumb prints to a piece of tape and identified the salient features, like the major patterns: whorl, arch, and loop. Thankfully, it was rather clean, and the mess was isolated to their smudgy papers.

So here's something that blew my mind. I suppose I had never really looked at my fingerprints, had never really studied them. But here's what surprised me: my thumbs have two different patterns on them. My right thumb is a whorl, and my left is a loop. I naturally assumed that my thumb prints were more or less identical, but apparently that is not the case. I'm interested to see if anyone else has heterogeneous thumb prints.

I'm somewhat happy to be finishing up biology, since it's rather unfamiliar territory. Next week we'll be heading back to physics to talk about circuits, harmonics, and optics, three topics I'm rather fond of.

Here's today's shirt pocket:

The inventory: Four pencils, two pairs of scissors, A--'s spoon and hair tie contraption he was playing with, a fork, a handout about the three types of fingerprint patterns, and my ID. This is also my only silk shirt. I've discovered I'm not a fan of silk. I'm a simple, poly-cotton blend person. No frills. It was also missing a button and I used a safety pin to close my shirt. The kids made fun of me.

And it was recently pointed out to me that I should post a happier picture from my childhood. We'll step it up in increments:

I used to be deathly afraid of fire crackers. As you can see from the picture, I had to be decked out and covered head to toe. I used an oven mitt to hold the morning glory sparkler, because I was afraid to get burned. The situation wasn't helped by my dad, intending to cure me of my fright, threw a bunch of those ground blooming flower ones at me. Not funny. Made it worse. Now I'm fine with fireworks. This is from New Year's. Me and my sis. Good times.

And so, as I once again find myself with half formed lesson plans that will have to be finalized in the morning, I bid you all adieu.