Tag Archives: education

Hormones Are Not an Excuse

Posted on by tattooteacher

Being a sixth grade teacher is weird in so many ways. The one that I’m reflecting on today is the fact that I deal with a group of people who need my help because they lost a tooth, and need my help because they have their period. It’s a strange sense of vertigo to realize that these two milestones that literally mark the end of childhood and beginning of adulthood happen simultaneously, often to the same person.

And as I write this I’m realizing that as strange as it is for me, it’s even more poignant for them. So I guess I should say that being a sixth grader is weird. Again, in so many ways!

Last year we had them watch THE MOVIE, as they all call it. All about puberty and changes and all that fun stuff. This year we went over it in even more depth, with even more overly scientific terms, and cartoon images that were even more graphic and detailed. Plus the added bonus of discussing conception and fertilization. Last year was a one day lesson. This year’s spanned four days. A colleague referred to the curriculum as “Girl parts, boy parts, how they go together.”

Last year I felt so proud of myself for getting through it without too much awkwardness or discomfort on my part. Last year was nothing. After this year, I don’t think anything will ever make me feel uncomfortable again. Until you’ve showed a detailed model of sperm fertilizing an egg to a group of 11 and 12 year old girls, you haven’t really lived. Some people go sky diving to get a rush. This is a lot cheaper.

(My favorite part of this was when one girl yelled “Woo, that worm is the winner!” when the first one reached the egg.)

One thing that came up a lot in our long, ongoing, and incredibly detailed discussions was that for a lot of the questions (Why do we get acne? Why do we have crushes? What determines when puberty starts? Why do you get emotional around your period?) the answer was ‘Hormones’.

Yesterday I met with a student about her behavior on the bus. For the past few weeks, she’s been having some ongoing issues with another student. She freely admitted she hadn’t been as nice as she could have been. “Ok, I’ve been mean to her.” I asked her why.

She was reluctant to give the reason for the original argument, but did let me know this bit of info: “Well, I got my period today.” I waited for her to explain more. I stared at her. She stared back at me. “Ok, but this has been going on for a few weeks, right?” I asked. “Yeah, well, my period!” She said happily. More staring.

“I’m confused how you getting your period today made you mean to her three weeks ago.” “Well, hormones, you know.” She informed me knowingly.

Sixth grade, everybody.

Ant Problems

Posted on by tattooteacher

We had a class breakfast last week, and in the ensuing chaos of twenty-three 12 year olds eating and drinking, some juice was spilled. Multiple kids attempted to clean it up, but only ended up smearing it across an even greater surface of the counter. Within an hour, sugar ants were busily crawling across it. We cleaned it up, but by then the damage was done and a line of ants kept scurrying across the counter.

That afternoon we had reading buddies, and the second graders of course noticed the ants. One little girl quickly pointed out that I could just poison them. I explained that they were there for the spilled juice, and that I didn’t want to use poison if we could just do a better job cleaning up the juice.

“You could put the poison in the juice bottle!” She suggested enthusiastically.

“Well I really don’t want to use poison, and the ants won’t be able to get the juice in the bottle anyway” I replied.

The little girl looked meaningfully around the table at each of the sixth graders she sat with. “It’s not for the ants.” She said to me. The sixth graders looked at me and each other, but the little one was already back to her book, head resting gently on her very alarmed looking buddy.

After the second graders left, my students asked “Did she suggest you poison us because we didn’t clean up the juice?” “I think she did.” I answered. “But I promise not to poison any of you.” Nonetheless, the juice was thoroughly cleaned up after that.

I’m Back! And I’m Tired.

Posted on by tattooteacher

Turns out having a baby really eats up your free time. Who knew! After a long hiatus, I’m officially back. I’ll write a longer post soon, but here’s a quick one.

One thing I like about teaching older kids is their ability to be a bit more tactful. I’m the type of person who looks tired even when I’m not (thank you, genetic predisposition to under eye circles). When I actually am tired, it’s really bad. Kids, of course notice this, and comment on it. Their responses change based on their age, though, as both empathy and tact develop.

Third Grader- “Are you tired? You look terrible.”

Fourth Grader- “You look really tired, are you ok?”

Fifth Grader- “You know, if you wore more make up, you’d look less tired.”

Sixth Grader- “I notice you look really tired, which is totally understandable! Some under eye concealer might help with that, and some light colored eye shadow on the outer lid.”

Later that day I found a note on my desk with a list of concealer brands.

How I Know I’m a Grown-up

Posted on by tattooteacher

When I started teaching, I was 22. In my first week at work, a custodian yelled at me not to run up the stairs, and was mortified when I turned around and he saw I was not a kid. A student once told me “Sometimes I think of you like a grown-up, but it doesn’t last long.”

I am no longer the youngest teacher at school. Several of my colleagues now have the dubious honor of being yelled at by custodians, and staff in the parking lot who tell them high school parking is on the other side of the campus. I’ve passed on the torch.

Since then, I have hit a lot of adult milestones. I went to grad school, got my masters, travelled all over, payed off my car, bought a house, got engaged, got married, had a baby (almost, anyway! One more month!).

None of these are the reason why I can now truly say “I am an adult.” No, that statement hinges solely on one reason- I watched THE MOVIE and handled it like an adult.

THE MOVIE refers to the human growth and development video we have the kids watch at the end of fifth grade. It can be summed up the following way: “Feelings. Hormones. Wash yourself real thoroughly or you’ll stink. Menstruation. Nocturnal emission.” The kids start talking about it in fourth grade, and the lead up to the movie itself is fraught with sweaty palms, awkward laughter, and red faces.

The teachers handle it much better, of course. Except for me. Awkward situations make me even more awkward. If the kids are laughing and know they shouldn’t be, I am most likely busting a rib trying not to laugh with them.

In my second year working with kids, I student taught in fifth grade. When we watched THE MOVIE, I went with the girls. (We split the grade by gender, and have each watch their own movie one day, and the opposite gender movie the next.) I was not looking forward to it. During the event, I did my best to blend in with the wall. Despite this, one girl felt the urge to turn around and make direct eye contact with me every time a part of the male anatomy was mentioned. It was intense. When I reminisced about this with the colleague who at the time was my mentor teacher, she was surprised that I had been there. “I don’t remember you being in the room for that at all!” She said. Good. That meant my attempts at blending in with the bulletin boards had worked.

This time around, I was in charge of my own classroom. I had to run the group. There was no blending in with the walls. Not only did I have to watch the movie with them, I had to teach the associated curriculum, and answer any questions. There was no backing out.

My colleagues and I had a talk about who would take which gender, since we split our class and send half to another teacher. “I’ve taught the boys class before.” “Me too, and I used to be a doctor.” “I have three sons, I can do this.”

They looked at me. I answered honestly. “I am not mature enough to handle this, so if no one minds, I’ll take the girls group!” Have I mentioned I love my colleagues?

On the day of, my boys all went to a colleagues room, and her girls came to me. We watched the movie. They giggled, turned red, and then wrote down a million questions, which ranged from serious to confusing, insightful to accidentally hilarious. I answered them all. Was it hard to explain how to insert a tampon? Yes. Was it hard not to laugh when explaining that boys did not get their periods? Of course. Was it hard not to be embarrassed explaining what, exactly, testicles were to a group of 11 year old girls? Good god, yes. But I did it. I didn’t laugh, I didn’t turn red, I didn’t try to become one with the walls.

And that is how I know I’m a grown-up. It’s kind of nice, to have finally stepped away from the intense awkwardness of caring about being embarrassed. I guess I just don’t care anymore. So please, feel free to ask me any and all questions about puberty, tampons, and nocturnal emissions.

The Tattooed… Mom

Posted on by tattooteacher

I’ve had a lot of big news I was able to share with my classes over the years. Buying a house, getting engaged, getting a puppy, getting married. This is the biggest so far- pregnancy!

As soon as I found out, one of my first thoughts was of telling my students. Both how exciting that would be, and how awkward that would be. To little kids, having a baby is somewhere between fact and magic. “Well, you got married, so this is the logical next step. Now something will happen involving birds and bees, maybe specifically storks, some scientific terms I don’t understand but my parents told me so the could feel progressive, and you’ll have a baby in you. Voila. When’s recess?”

My students are ten and eleven, the age when certain aspects of human relationships start to become both extremely interesting and extremely gross. They have, at the very least, a vague sense that what starts this process has a lot less to do with storks and a lot more to do with those feelings they’ve all started having when they look at each other. In short, “I don’t know exactly what you did to get this way, but I’m sure it’s sort of gross.” The preteen years are a magical time.

When it became evident to both myself and my colleagues that I couldn’t go on pretending I was suffering from a low grade stomach bug all the time and smuggling fruits of increasing large sizes under my shirts, I decided to tell the kids. I broke the news, and reassured them I’d still be here for most of next year (since my school has classes with the same teacher for two years, I’ll be their sixth grade teacher, too). Their reactions were about as awkward as I expected, as hilarious as I could have hoped, and much sweeter than I thought they would be.

After a moment of stunned silence, one of the boys clapped his hands to his face and yelled “That’s so exciting! This is awesome!” Then the floodgates opened and a million questions were unleashed.

“How big is your belly?”

“How big will you get?”

“Is it a boy or a girl?” “When will you find out?” “How can they tell if it’s a boy or a girl?” (The answer to the last one was a shocker- no one apparently thought the same rules applied for babies in utero and the rest of the mammal kingdom.)

“How do ultrasounds work?” “Why are they called that?”

“What will you name it?” “Can we pick the name?” “Can we vote on the name?” “Will you name it after me?” “Or me?” “What about me?”

“Do you have any cravings?” “Have you eaten weird food?” “Does it like (fill in random food here)?”

“Will it come to visit us?” (Not, will you bring it in to visit. Will it come to visit. Of it’s own volition.)

“How does it get food?” “How does it breath if it’s in there?” Following this was a student provided run-down of how the umbilical cord works, much to the discomfort of everyone else, including me.

“If the cords attached to you and the baby, what happens to the part in you when they cut the cord?” (Full disclosure, I used the best of my evasive ‘answer without really answering’ techniques and then found the nearest colleague with kids as soon as I went to lunch to ask her the exact same question. Apparently I still have a lot to learn.)

“Does all pregnancy ruin your stomach? Because my mom says I ruined hers. If it does, don’t tell the baby, it will feel bad.”

“Will it go to our school?”

“Will your dogs like it?”

“Can we at least pick it’s middle name?”

All in all, it took about an hour of processing and questions, both the practical, the personal, and the scientific. I’m excited about the whole thing. I’m so glad they know, and so happy they are excited for me. This lucky little bean has 23 big friends looking out for it already.

Things Children Said to me While Getting on the Bus

Posted on by tattooteacher

Ranked in order from nicest to creepiest.

“Bye bye, pretty teacher!”  I needed that one. I’d been asked by several students and colleagues if I was sick, or tired, or both.

“Have a good night, Susan!” My name is not Susan. My name is not at all similar to Susan. In fact, I don’t think anyone named Susan works in this building.

“Just so you know, nothing is true. Not even Santa, and not even the universe.” My guess is someone recently learned a painful Christmas truth and had his faith in EVERYTHING shaken.

“I’m going to put a french fry in your butt.” This is response to being repeatedly told not to yank of other peoples backpacks. 

Why You Don’t Discuss Race With Second Graders

Posted on by tattooteacher

We have reading buddies once a week, so second graders come into the class to read books with my kids. After they finish reading, they can play a game. Today one of my boys and his second grade buddy were playing chess, while another fifth grader and his partner looked on.

I missed the first part of the conversation, but came by in time to hear one of the fifth graders saying that chess was racist because it was black against white. Before I could speak up that this a) wasn’t accurate and b) not a subject you discussed with 7 year olds, one of the little ones piped up. “What’s racist?” He asked.

The two older boys stared at each other for a second, then at me with something like panic. Before any of us could say anything, the second little boy announced “I’m black.”

He is not. He is definitely, definitely not. He has sandy brown hair, blue eyes, and very fair skin. The fifth graders, again, looked at each other, then me with a mix of confusion and panic. Again, they were interrupted. The same boy said, in the same definitive tone as before “I’m not black.”

“Gabriel is black.” The other little boy said, looking over to where Gabriel and his buddy were drawing together. “Yes, he is.” Said one of my boys, clearly relieved to have something he could answer clearly. Gabriel is definitely black. Then the same little boy leaned in and said quietly to his buddy, “Is Gabriel black?”

The other second grader interrupted again. “Are you black?” He asked his buddy. “No, I’m Chinese.” My student answered. “Black Chinese, or white Chinese?” The little one pressed. At this point, his buddy put his head on the table. The little one patted his hair gently, and moved his chess piece.

Chicken Mysteries

Posted on by tattooteacher

On Friday I was checking in homework packets. Kids sometimes write notes to me on the cover sheet. Things like, “I had trouble on the math, can we go over it together?” Or “My mom helped me with the spelling.” Or “I hated that article about whales. You should never assign it again.”

When I noticed writing on one student’s cover sheet, I assumed it was for me. Then I read it. It said “Why chicken on the median.” Then below it, in all capitals NEKCIHC. Which, you may have noticed, is chicken backwards.

Was it a code? Did the chicken stand for something? Was it about math? We had been studying median and other data points. Was it a joke? Median like median strip? Some veiled reference to a chicken crossing the road?

Hoping to clear this up, I called the student in question over. Before I could say anything, he saw the writing, snatched the packet off my desk, and said under his breath “Oh, not again.” Then he looked up at me. “This… this isn’t important. Don’t worry about it.” “What is it?” I asked. I wanted to know. “It’s not for you.” He said solemnly.

Things got even weirder when he went back to his seat. He leaned over to another student and said, quietly but loud enough for me to hear “We have to be more careful.”

I am now obsessed with finding out what the heck this is about.

Problems You Don’t Have At Your Job

Posted on by tattooteacher

– The electricity went off over the weekend, shutting down the filtration on the second grade tide pools and killing all the things in them. Therefore it smelled like a sewer in our building on Monday. On the bright side, it led to such creative student generated content such as “It smells like an ocean fart” and “It smells like Poseidon’s butthole.”

– Multitasking. Now, most jobs have this. The printer is broken, and I need to print an agenda for this meeting, and my boss wants to talk to me! Or something. (Clearly, I have never worked in an office.) What you probably don’t have- Oh no! The aquatic ecosystem organisms were delivered early. Now I have to find a place to store these snails. And I arrived late today due to a history training. And the principal is on the phone because one of my kids punched someone. It’s hard to prioritize which is more important: counseling non-violence against others, or keeping snails alive.

– Asking yourself “I wonder what it’s like to have a job where you aren’t constantly worried you’re going to pee yourself?

The Answerers

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When you teach, you start to see patterns in how kids answer questions. There are categories, and every kid falls into one.

The Rambler– It does not matter how short the answer is, this child will make it into an epic monologue. “What’s 3 x 3?” is answered “Well, you see, what I did, was I multiplied it, I multiplied the 3, and then I multiplied it by another 3, because that what it says on this paper, so I said to myself, I’m going to multiply that, and I did, and I got 9, which is the answer to this problem, which is 3 x 3.” If you are trying to get through a lesson before the subject ends, you do not call on this kid.

The Jokester– This kid is out for laughs, and you can’t blame them. Sometimes you need it. Other times, you want to throw things at them. For example, the student that responded to the question “What do we call polygons that look different and don’t fit into categories we know?” responded not with ‘irregular polygons’, which was the correct answer but “Michael Jackson.”

The Accidental Jokester– This is the kid whose answers make you want to laugh out loud, but you can’t because they aren’t doing it on purpose and you don’t want to make them feel bad. For example, the child who, when discussing political maps and asked who created the boundary lines between states, answers “God?” and you need to quickly turn your laugh into a snort and pretend to have a cold while the other kids eye the accidental jokester to see if he is genuinely answering this way, or trying to screw with the teacher.

‘I Didn’t Hear the Question’- The Blurters– Their hands are up before you even finish asking the question. Sometimes before you even start. You will need to ask them “Do you have a question?’ frequently, at which point they will shake their head, put their hand down, and shoot it up again as soon as you say a syllable. Often the answer leaves their mouths followed closely by the realization that they actually have no idea  what was asked. Like my old friend who answered a question about American government with “Ballroom dancing!” followed a heartbeat later by “Wait. What was the question?”

‘I Didn’t Hear the Question’- The Delayers- Similar to above, but when they are called on, the realization that they have no idea what was asked comes faster. You’ll say their name and they will say “Oh. I just… I thought… hold on…”

The Questioner- No answer is ever as good as another question. The questions themselves come in all shapes and sizes. Some are simple clarification, some can sidetrack us into off topic but often great discussions, and others are completely, utterly unrelated. “How many moons does Jupiter have?” How do we know any planets have moons? When will we have the technology to send people to Jupiter? What would Galileo think about it? When is lunch?

The Surprise Participant– This is the kid that never, ever raises their hand. When they do, it’s like a beam of light shines down on them and angels sing. They have finally participated of their own free will, and not just because you called on them and made them! Then if the answer is wrong, you feel like a jerk for not accepting it.

The Humble Ones-  These kids are never convinced they are right. Even when the answer is right in front of them, or one that can’t even be wrong (what’s you favorite food?) they preface the question with “So, I’m not sure this is right but…” Often lumped in here are the humblebraggers- “I don’t know if this is right, but I’ve read like 100 books on the subject and my paper on it was accepted by a prestigious academic journal so…”

The Old Faithfuls- They know the answer. You know they know. Their hands aren’t always up, but they participate when they need to. These kids feed on desperate teacher energy. The times when no one at all has correctly answered. When the clock is ticking, when everyone has apparently forgotten something you know for a fact they all knew yesterday, when you feel the desperation rising. You can meet that kid’s eyes. They will raise an eyebrow, just long enough to let you know they have the power, then they will sigh, raise their hands, and answer with devastating correctness. At which point the rest of the class will say “Ohhhh, yeah…” like they knew all along.