Our new camera, a Nikon D500, arrived today. A few pics from the evening.
D500
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And Repeat
I don’t know how many times I’ve told students that, nine out of ten times, it’s not what you do that gets you in trouble but rather how you react to being corrected. It’s not the phone out that’s the problem; it’s how you responded when told to put it away. It’s not the mild horseplay that’s the problem; it’s how you responded when told to stop. It’s not the talking; it’s the reaction to being told to be quiet.
Today, when I had hall duty, one young man insisted on chatting in the time before school actually begins, when all students sit in the hallway, leaning against the walls, and relatively silent. There’s always some whispering, and all teachers ignore that because it’s not a problem. It’s when the kids start talking, and then others talk, and then the first group has to raise their voices to be heard above the increasing din, and soon, it’s chaos on the hall. So we — as well as all other grade levels — insist on silence. This young man, though, insisted on chatting despite being told to stop talking.
In such situations, I take a simple strategy: I tell the kid to go to my classroom and wait for me there. “When it’s locker time and my duty is therefore over, I’ll come talk to you about this.” Most kids comply without issue. And what do I do when I talk to them? Sometimes I sign their school behavior cards (ROCK cards they’re called) on the positive side for complying without problems and tell them next time, it’s a negative. And sometimes, it’s a negative.
Today, I had a batch of kids that I’d never had to call down, so I took their names and told them I was pressing them into service for tomorrow: “You’re going to be my leaders, my CEOs, those who set the good example and get the others around you who are talking to stop and whisper instead.” I looked at them with a pause for effect, then asked, “And you know what happens to CEOs who don’t perform well, right?” One girl answered, “They get fired.” “And you know what that means for you, right?”
But one boy just couldn’t get past his sense of victimization. I told him, “P, you need to go to my room please.”
“What’d I do?” he asked indignantly.
“You just need to go to my room, alright.”
“I didn’t do nothin’.”
“You just need to go to my room, alright.”
“I didn’t do nothin’.”
“You just need to go to my room, alright.”
“I didn’t do nothin’.”
“You just need to go to my room, alright.”
“I didn’t do nothin’.”
Literally about that many times. Well, maybe not that many times: I don’t have that much patience. I just ended the encounter with him still sitting where he had been sitting, leaving him with the comment that he can discuss it with the assistant principal when I complete the disciplinary referral.
What will happen to him? He’ll get a day or two of In-School Suspension. Will that change him? Not at all. He sees himself as a victim — I don’t teach him, but all his teachers confirm this first impression.
It’s such kids’ futures that seem so bleak to me. How can someone like that hold down a job? How can someone like that even make it to an interview?
The only hope is age: perhaps in the next four years, by the time he becomes an adult, something will click.
Nearly-Spring Sunday
Spring in the south is a tease: we'll have a week of theoretically unseasonably warm weather (mid-seventies or even a bit higher) and then drop back down to the forties and fifties for a week. I guess we all should get used to it, but we never really do. Every year, we have this warm spell and become convinced that this time -- this time -- it will be different. K gets out a few spring clothes, packs up a few of the winter clothes, and then the next week, we're all wondering why we were so naive.
That's what we had this week: cool, cool temperatures and even some rain after a week of warmth. So this weekend, with its sunny cool weather, has been a joy. We spent yesterday working outside; we spent this afternoon playing outside. Well, not entirely. I had to do some school planning and a bit of grading, and K was in the kitchen for a while.
Our hearts, at least, were outside when our bodies couldn't be. Just before heading to Nana's and Papa's for Sunday dinner, the Boy decided he wanted to play football. During our scout meeting today, someone brought up football, and though we never watch it at our house and therefore never discuss it and therefore never expose our children to it, the Boy has absorbed enough background knowledge at school that he's keen to play.
He asks if he can play on a team like the neighbor across the street. Thinking of the growing scientific certainty regarding the dangers to the brain the football presents, I tell him, "No, sorry buddy. There's just no way to make it safe."
"Well, little kids don't hit very hard," he tries to explain.
As a happy compromise, we toss the ball with him occasionally.
At scouts today, they played kickball, and because we don't expose our kids to baseball either, E had only the vaguest notion of how to play even when the den leader explained that it's just like baseball. K sometimes worries that by not exposing the kids to sports because we're not particularly interested in watching them (except for ski jumping -- that's a given when you're Kamil Stoch's first cousin), we're somehow short-changing our kids. They don't fit in with the other kids, and the other kids notice -- that's the logic.
Since I grew up not fitting in for various other reasons, I find myself thinking, "There are worse things than not fitting in." It's a survivable dilemma. What doesn't kill them makes the strong. Some such nonsense.
But even if we wanted -- really wanted -- to expose our kids to sports like football and baseball, we don't have the time for it. I'm always amazed at people in the area who go to every single Clemson game during football season, thinking, "Don't you guys have any obligations on Saturdays?" We're too busy in the fall working outside and inside (mainly my school work) to make football viewing a possibility, and baseball in the spring would be only slightly better.
So our kids go to school lacking certain knowledge to make conversation of a certain type possible. In reality it really doesn't affect L because she too is not interested in football (to continue using the example above). The Boy, though, is, and his friends talk about it from time to time.
Maybe as spring unfolds, we'll try to watch some baseball together, perhaps to watch the local minor league team play a time or two...
First Game of the Season
Evening Play
Writing
The Girl is writing a piece about Polish Easter traditions for the church bulletin where Polish Mass is held each month. She spent over half an hour last evening interviewing K about the traditions. Sure, she knows them herself, but not well enough to write about them. And not well enough to discuss the symbolism.
Today, she began writing. We'll put it here once it's done.
Rollerblading
The Boy has been working on his rollerblading and wanted to practice today. He can coast in a straight line, but sometimes, when he gets stuck, he just has to flop down and crawl.
First Spring Saturday
Not really. It's another month until spring according to the calendar, but this is South Carolina: it's been in the sixties and seventies all week, and the yard shows it: weeds everywhere.
K and her mother spoke over Skype while E ate breakfast. He was in the room the whole time because of complications with his electronics time -- he didn't have any today. We're trying a new motivation for sleeping through the night.
Afterward, it was soccer practice -- first practice for the spring. We requested the same coach as we had in the autumn, Coach Kevin, and when we arrived for practice, we saw that we weren't the only ones to request him. So the Boy jumped right in without the shyness that sometimes plagues him in new situations.
Throughout the day, he practiced tying his new shoes. He's become brand-conscious: he simply had to have Under Armor brand shoes. The price he had to pay? No velcro. He made some progress in the whole process through the week, but it's still a matter of, "Daddy, I'm in a hurry! Can you tie my shoe?"
Playing Along
The Boy has had an experience at school that some, no doubt, would cause bullying, or at least the beginnings of it. It's happened once, as far as he has explained, but I don't know if it won't happen again. I don't consider it bullying, and I really think it depends on the Boy's response whether or not it could be considered that. Teasing is not bullying, even if it continues for an extended period -- and it certainly isn't if the "victim" can turn it into a game.
The issue was simple: because of E's relatively unknown name, it often gets mispronounced. On the playground the other day, some of the kids realized that, when mispronounced, sounds like "a meal." So they were chasing him about, saying, "We're going to eat you because you're a meal!" Honestly, that's kind of a clever connection for kindergartners. The Boy, though, didn't really like it.
Tonight, while the girls were at Polish choir practice, I got to talking to the Boy about what had happened.
"What if you turn it into a game?" I asked. I held my arm in front of his mouth and said, "Here, eat my arm, but I think it needs a little salt."
The Boy smiled.
"You could eat my fingers, but they're just bones."
The Boy giggled.
"You could eat my toes, but yuck! Why would you want to?!"
The Boy laughed.
And so now, instead of fearing when it happens again, he wants to provoke them into doing it again.
From one ditch to the other...