School Spirit

‘We worry what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that he is someone today.’ - Stacia Tauscher

It’s the Monday of the Queen’s Birthday long weekend and I’ve just drawn the curtain on my reports for the kids for this first half of the year. Okay, later on this afternoon I’ll pull the curtain back just a little and give them a once over look to check for errors and things - a second read through should be mandatory for any sort of report - but I think I can safely put them aside for most of the afternoon and enjoy what’s left of the public holiday.

The reports won’t be handed out to the kids for another fortnight, but they’re still to be proof-read then handed back for minor tweaks and corrections after the cross-examination. There’s usually at least one sentence you’ve snuck in that someone from higher up requests be, at best altered or at worst removed completely. You have to be honest and truthful when reporting to parents about their abilities and where they are, but only for a given value of ‘truth’. Sentences like ‘your son is in the half of the grade that makes the top half possible‘ and ‘somewhere your son is depriving a village of its idiot‘ tend to be frowned upon.

Which is a little bit of a shame, because I’m sure it would make both the writing and the reading of these reports much more entertaining. Mind you… there’d probably only be a select calibre of parents who’d appreciate the humour, eh?

I think I’m fairly happy with what I’ve served up though, although I’ll probably spend a bit of time tonight running through the ’scores’ I’ve given the kids for ‘effort’ and ‘behaviour’. Have another think about them and decide on whether they’ve been very good or acceptable in those cases. Have they worked as well as they can, or could they do with a rocket placed under them to get them moving a little more in the second half of the year? That’ll be the final thing I re-read before uploading them to the server tomorrow morning, along with perhaps a final sentence addressed to each kid at the end.

They’re funny things, these reports. Easy enough to write when you know the kid, and after five months you generally know the kid. The strange part is you’re often reporting on them with an eye on the rest of the year, or where they’re going to be in the future. There only seem to be a few parents who come in to talk about their kid in the mid year interviews who have read the reports with their eyes on where the kid is now. Most of the time you’re talking about where they’re going but, honestly, I think the best part of a kid is seeing where the little tacker is right now.

I guess that’s one of the best things I like about this job. I may not get to see who they are in the future, but every day I get to see who they are now.

Tomorrow, or probably today considering it’s nearly ten o’clock when I’m writing this, is our school’s Prep Open Day. Tomorrow, for the first two hours up until recess, prospective Prep parents for next year will be touring around the school, most likely being lead around by a few of the older children. A very important day for the continued health of any school, as if you don’t get the Prep enrollments to cover the number of Grade Six kids heading off to high school, you can jeopardise the number of staff you have the following year. Lose 40 kids to secondary school but only get 20 Preps you’re looking at one less grade which could mean one teacher’s out of a job.

Yes. Quite an important day to get those Prep parents hooked early and enrolled, eh?

Mind you… for a better chance of hooking them in, the joint should be neat and tidy, eh?

So that’s what most of us spent the first fifteen minutes or so after lunch doing this afternoon.

‘Kids! Get back out there and CLEAN THAT YARD!’

So we did.

With strict instructions that we were to clean the area around our classroom WITHOUT playing on the monkey bars, we scurried around along the gutters, burrowed under the play equipment, dragged one or two inquisitive and over-eager kids out from between the two portables, scampered through the bushes and fished little wrappers out of the puddles on the asphalt.

And laughed at the older kids who thought they’d cheat the system by pinching rubbish from our grade’s bin to show that they’d collected a lot themselves, only to walk back to their own grade with their friends trailing after them singing the ‘Bin Scab!’ Chorus.

We did have to call it off short though. Not only was it a little chilly by then, but the clouds decided it was time to open up too.

Ever tried to get twenty five kids across the yard to wash their hands and back again while it’s raining and they think it’s more fun to dance around in it? Or decide that the taps are all well and good for normal washing… but we can wash our hands just as well by rinsing them in the asphalt puddles or scraping water off the monkey bars.

Well… we got them inside eventually, and generally dry all things considered.

‘What’s next, Mr V?’

‘Okay kids… now you can clean the room.’

‘AWWW!!!!’

You hear a lot of talk about teachers through the media and your every day man on the street. Your every day woman on the street too, but I’ll use the common phrase here and if anyone gets their back up because it’s not politically correct then just substitute the gender of your choice and read on, eh?

That’s the way.

Especially now that, here in Victoria, the Government and the Union have come to terms over a new pay deal (which is still to be signed off on - no word on when that may happen, but that’s another issue I’m not interested in rabbitting on about), there’s talk about what we should also be doing to earn it. Or, what we’re already doing to earn it but what the Government wants us to do as well. I’m just going to leave this bit hanging though and say that, often, especially in regards to building a relationship with the kids, it doesn’t start and end with those two book-end bell tolls at the start and end of each day. I find it carries on, and is often more powerful, when developed outside the school setting.

And I’d like to add too that, for me, it’s just as rewarding for myself as the kid, maybe more so in some cases. At school, the relationship is always that of the student and the teacher. If you play the card right though, outside of the school setting, these kids you’ve made an effort getting to know start to move closer to equals without losing that respect for you. I know several kids who see me closer to an equal rather than just a past teacher because they saw me showing an interest. In school situations they switch back (usually, it must be said - you can’t always keep the cheek down, eh?) to that student to teacher relationship, but once outside of that again, it’s back to a healthy mutual respect.

I’m sure other teachers may disagree with this in some cases and prefer not to blur that line between the relationship, and that’s fair enough. For me though, a bit of blurring outside of the school grounds can work wonders for both parties. There’s things kids won’t necessarily feel comfortable sharing with a teacher, but if they see you as something more than that, they’ll open up if they think they need to.

Here’s where I’m going to with this.

One of my kids let me know that he and his family were off to watch the footy on Saturday night, down at the MCG. We both support the Bombers, despite their very ordinary year so far (and the prospect of much more pain to come in the near future!), and I told him that I’d be down there watching too. Well, he had to know where I’d be sitting so I showed him the back of my membership card and he told me he’d be sitting somewhere down at ground level.

‘Maybe I’ll see you there then, eh?’

By Friday they’d given me their seat number so what else could I do but wander along before the game started and say hello, eh? I’ve met with kids at the footy the odd time before (once sneaking my way into the ticketed Members stand to do so - that’s another story), and besides, this kid’s a real genuine little feller. I caught them wandering out of one of the retail shops there just before the game (there goes $100+ in merchandise right there!) and had a quick little chat with him before the match started.

Then the family coming with them appeared around the corner. Someone’s been telling stories about me because once I’d been introduced (’who’s this bloke hanging around your son?’) it was all excitement from these people I’d never met. I’ll have to ask him what was said on Monday… you shouldn’t get that excited meeting a kid’s teacher at the footy, surely?

Anyway, instead of sneaking into their ticketed area to find them for a decent chat later, we organised to meet just beyond that rail I wasn’t allowed to step beyond (but I’d have found a way…) at halftime.

Now, I know right now that this is now one family I’m never going to have an issue with, and one kid who I’m pretty sure I’ll have on my side for the rest of his primary school career. How? One little visit at a place the kid is interested in. Show you share their interests (even if you wouldn’t generally do so normally - kids just appreciate you turning up) and their trust just builds.

And what did I get out of it?

A got half an hour of quality time with a top little kid and his family and a strong little parting handshake.

Monday it will be student to teacher again, but below that facade will be a stronger level of respect from both of us.

To me, that’s something that will help the kid more than a week of schooling.

This week, May 18th to 24th, is Education Week in Victoria. It’s an annual initiative of the Department of Education and Early Childhood Development (another name change!), and the official site is here. If, like me, you really don’t care too much for what’s on official education websites and things, then here’s a cut and paste job from their front page.

‘Education Week will be celebrated by Victorian government schools and kindergartens from 18-24 May 2008.

During the week, schools and kindergartens are encouraged to hold activities that engage parent and community networks while profiling their learning opportunities and achievements.

Open days, art shows, musical performances and other special events are among the many activities that give an insight into the vibrant education settings in which young Victorians learn, thrive and grow.‘

Learn, thrive and grow seems to be the current hype phrase this year.

Anyway, that explains why the Band played at the assembly, and why today the 3/4 Unit opened their doors to parents, grandparents and any friends of the kids who wanted to rock up to come in and spend part of the morning with us to see what goes on in these classrooms. It was quite a good turn out in regards to the number of parents and families we had drifting through during the day. Also gives us a chance to sometimes meet parents for the first time, which can make the parent teacher interviews in the next few weeks a bit more relaxed. We have five grades in the unit, which causes a few timetabling problems. In this case, a half hour rotation activity for each grade doesn’t fit nicely into two hours, so we had to carry it over after recess. That’s fine, but by the time the kids finally got back to our own grade (with a few parents in tow), they’d just about reached the end of their tethers and were quite unready to settle back down again.

Had to give them a quick growl and remind them that we had an audience today and they were embarrassing themselves. Didn’t seem to make much difference. Sending them around the oval for a run seemed to work though. At least, it gave the parents a good excuse to skedaddle out of there!

To be fair though, the morning rotation activities (language and maths games spread around the five grades) worked well. The first two hours have never passed so quickly, but at the same time, you definitely knew you’d earned your pay at the end of it. I spent the morning playing dice maths games with the 120 odd kids that passed through the room. It was a fairly easy activity that all but ran itself, but I still felt like I’d done nine rounds with a big red roo at the end of it.

Ah, Education Week. Fantastic idea, well worth the effort, looking forward to it again next year.

Just glad it’s only the once!

You couldn’t write about it!

Two days ago I posted a lengthy (for this blog, at least) piece about a newspaper article I read concerning the different varieties of ‘ugly parent’, to use the current buzz word. I named it Parents Behaving Badly and, while I mentioned the six varieties this article highlighted at it’s conclusion, I also pointed out a few things I thought would nicely balance the post.

Firstly, I’ve found most parents highly approachable and, once their trust in you is high enough, more than willing to accommodate any discussions, concerns or outright jokes at their or their kids expense you may wish to share with them. I like a good laugh. Even if it’s at my expense. Secondly, I noted that I’d been lucky and have managed to avoid anything too serious or sinister from the parents of the kids I’ve taught so far, and a few reasons how I thought I had managed that. How quickly things like that come back to bite you firmly on the freckle, eh?

We took five grades of kids to the local national park today. About forty minutes out of town - a great place it is, and it’s always a successful excursion. The rain held off until the buses arrived to pick us up, when it fair belted it down, but we got back relatively dry and not too cold considering the weather. Then, Friday afternoon, what else could I do than offer some quiet free time to kill the rest of the afternoon. An easy end to the day, and I packed them up at 3:10, leaving us twenty minutes to finish off the week and head home.

The bell rang and, just before sending them off for their weekend, got their attention one last time to remind them of what they’d need to bring for our footy clinic on Monday. Then, off they went and had the car packed by 3:36 and was back in the staff room to wind down for a half hour or so.

Then I get a phone call…

A parent asking to speak with me who wouldn’t give his name. Sounds promising, eh?

Apparently I’d kept the grade in after the bell to do more work and some parents have tight schedules and can’t afford to wait in the rain for teachers like myself to decide when to release the kids on a whim and maybe I should think about that in future. A tight schedule, yet he managed to get home and try to bail me up within ten minutes of the final bell. Nice job. Hope the coppers weren’t out with speed guns this afternoon. I just answered with a few ‘yeah, fair enoughs’ and asked who his daughter might be. It’s important to know who you’re speaking with, eh? Especially if they know you.

Apparently that wasn’t important, so he maintained his anonymity and the quick, passive-aggressive conversation ended shortly afterwards with myself trying to hold back a chuckle as I thought back to that entry I posted two days ago. Thing is… I only have 10 girls in the grade anyway… and I’ve met the parents of nine of them!

Yep, it gives you a shake once you hang that phone up, but not for too long. My main concern now is that Monday morning I have to focus on continuing the good relationship I have with this particular student after such a petty little aggressive complaint from her parent. That’s the bit that I don’t find fair.

Here’s a tip, parents. If you’re not happy about something that, when you really come right down to it, is quite trivial, front up face to face. We generally don’t bite. Besides… you never know. You might actually find you like us.

Funnier things have happened, eh?

Related Posts: Parents behaving badly…

Spend a year teaching kids and you’ll experience in some form the phenomenon of parents behaving badly. If you’re unlucky, you’ll experience it first hand. If you’re a little luckier or maybe have a knack of keeping them on side yourself, you may only experience it second hand, which can be disturbing enough. Fortunately I’ve managed to get through seven and a half years so far without coming face to face with a fuming, angry and generally belligerent parent. I’ve been fairly fortunate. The worst I’ve had is one pair demanding to know at a parent/teacher interview what I was doing about a boy being bullied (while both boys were happily playing together outside the window, I might add!) and the odd parent asking why their child should stay inside for two minutes after school with the rest of the grade (because the whole lot of the little buggers were acting like a right pack of pills all afternoon!). As I said, I’ve been lucky.

It can be rather sad in many cases too. More often than not, you’ll find that the kid in question is often quite a nice, decently good kid. You’ve got to tread a little carefully for the kid’s sake, as (at least still in primary school level) the kid probably really enjoys being taught by you. You enjoy teaching the poor little bugger yourself too, but there’s always that spooky shadow of the ‘ugly parent’ somewhere nearby just over the horizon - and the wind’s blowing your way.

I found an article from the Age newspaper on the staffroom table after work tonight. I don’t read the Age myself (I’m not clever enough to fold it all back together again), but the ‘Challenging Parents: A Spotter’s Guide’ caught my eye and I gave it a look. I actually had a bit of a laugh at it because the list hasn’t actually done a bad job covering the various types of difficult parent you can face. It was pretty true to form.

The rest of the article, The Parent Trap, is an intriguing read as well, and I recommend you give it a look if this topic is of importance to you in any way. It is fairly lengthy, but it covers a lot of interesting points. We’re always under pressure to find ways to rein in the apparent endless bullying that goes on through schools, but the other side is rarely given air time. According to this article one in two teachers are bullied by parents regularly to various degrees. That wouldn’t surprise me, to be honest, but as I said, I’ve been one of the fortunate ones.

Either that or I’ve been too preoccupied or ever so slightly laid back to actually realise it! That’s always a possibility.

The six categories of difficult parents are listed at the end of the article on the sixth page. I’ll list them here for posterity anyway, just keep in mind they’re not my work, eh? I don’t want to get into trouble!

Challenging parents: A spotter’s guide

- Overprotective - always hovering, wanting to know everything about their children. It only takes one story from their child for them to be on the phone and in the principal’s office, often without checking facts.

Want all problems fixed in their child’s favour.

- High maintenance - short-sighted parents who believe their child is perfect and should be the centre of the school’s universe.

Often make a fuss over minor issues. Tend to create a vacuum that sucks in principals who have a strong wish to help others.

- Power trippers - those who use bluff, bluster, threats or power to get their own way at home and work. A bullying parent who can sense fear or weakness and will tackle a tentative, young teacher rather than going to the principal’s office.

- Angry parents - can be aggressive or withdrawn. Can generally be heard before they are seen. Can escalate their anger and be unpredictable. Won’t listen until they calm down. Anger centres on gaining control or damaging others.

- At-risk parents - those going through turbulent and vulnerable times such as a marriage breakdown, business problems or experiencing difficulties with their children. This group includes violent, mentally ill or addictive parents.

- Disengaged - the opposite of the helicopter parents. They don’t come to school, parent-teacher interviews or school events. Often have an immature view of child-rearing and will look to the school to care for and discipline their children.

I recognise all six varieties from my own experiences, but let me also say this. Most of the parents I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, working with and sharing the lives of their kids have been great. I actually enjoy the interaction and a bit of friendly banter between myself and the parents and I think it probably speeds up any issues of trust they may have when you teach their kids for the first time. Here’s just a quick run through of my experiences with parents. As I said, I don’t consider them all that scary in the least, but I’ve probably been lucky.

Every year, usually for the first three weeks, I get lots of parents wandering around, poking their heads in every now and then to see what’s going on in the room. I think these three weeks are that ‘okay, he’s doing a decent job, let’s go home and have a cuppa from now on instead‘ cooling off period. After that, I barely see them anywhere near the room except for when they turn up to tell me about a doctor’s appointment or are dragging their son in by the ear to change his reader before he goes home to play the X-box.

Other than that, I rarely have many issues, but I think that has a lot to do with actively going out to speak with the parents and share a joke with them. Often at their child’s expense! I also enjoy winding down after work some days by cheering some of the kids on at the odd sports game. I’m pretty sure that reputation has passed through the grape vine over the years (although I don’t broadcast it myself!) and I think that aids in the trust issue too.

If there’s one piece of advice I could give on this issue then, I suppose it would be to think about sharing a laugh or two with these parents as a deterrent to any major ‘ugly parent’ incidents in the future. One final example would be this. Several years ago, I taught one particular boy who had a bit of a reputation, as did one of his parents. They turned up at the parent teacher interview but I was ready. When his mum asked ‘Well… tell me about Johnny’ (they’re all called Johnny, eh?), before his old man could draw breath to fuel any rage, I just answered ‘well… I like him at least!’

That sort of knocked any wind out of his sails and he barely said a word for the rest of the interview!

While the following little comic is based on true events (see The Easter Ferret and The Ferret Song entries!), I wouldn’t recommend an approach like this though shown below. Miss Conway can pull something like this off. I don’t think I’d have the guts!

Related Posts: Parents drunk at school events, Scoring for basketball… leads me to drink, The Easter Ferret, The Ferret Song

Found this little article in the paper today. I found it in the Herald Sun, but this link will take you to the Australian newspaper site instead. It doesn’t matter though - it’s the same article written by the same bloke. I just couldn’t find it on the Herald Sun’s website. Anyway… seems there’s a blight of school children’s parents drinking at school fetes and similar school events. Worse, their buying their alcohol from the school itself as fundraisers and generally getting themselves blind as the day carries on. All very education behaviour for the kids to see, isn’t it? Well…

Where are all these schools that are doing this??

I mean, we have to go through School Council and get their approval several weeks in advance if we even consider selling soft drinks or fruit boxes or even the odd hotdog day! How on Earth can any school with these sorts of contingencies legally be allowed and capable of selling alcohol to parents while the kids are there? We’ve had our share of trivia nights and things like that where alcohol has been available, but on those nights kids aren’t brought along, are they? The school needs to actually get hold of a liquor license for the night to be able to hold things like this as well.

Yet… apparently there is a scourge of primary schools selling alcohol to parents because otherwise they wouldn’t come to their fetes and so forth.

Surely if this was going on we’d hear about it outside of the newspaper rags, wouldn’t we? I’m pretty sure if any of the schools around our district tried pulling a stunt like that the rumour mill would be working overtime and we’d have heard about it before the first tinny was knocked back!

Honestly, if things like this are happening, then come out and name the schools. Don’t make a blanket statement tarring us all with the same brush. I mean, we’re not even allowed to sell icypoles without a permit any more!

Related Posts: The kid didn’t know I was coming for dinner…, The Easter Ferret, Childhood Obesity… don’t you dare reward my kid with lollies!

I’ll open first by stating that this post is a bit of a gripe. It’s an issue that keeps popping its head up from time to time and, to be honest, I think it’s blown quite considerably out of proportion. And this issue of critical importance is teachers giving the odd lolly or unhealthy treat as a reward for good behaviour. With this apparent childhood obesity epidemic running rampant through Australia’s primary and secondary school aged population, the blow torch has fairly regularly been turned on us for having the good old lolly jar or similar sitting on the desk as the odd reward for good behaviour or winning some little competition within the classroom. Things like that. There have been pushes from various outside (and internal) sources to have things like this removed for the health and wellbeing of the children.

Well, I’m holding out against these invaders. My lolly jar is staying firmly on my desk and I’ll keep using it until some bureaucrat in a fancy suit makes it officially illegal and damaging to the chance to continue my career and forces me to remove it. Let me run through a few things.

This riled me yesterday afternoon while I was reading the daily Herald Sun newspaper after I’d spent the day at work. Specifically, the article ‘Mothers sour on sweets‘. More than 95% of parents surveyed claim their kids are receiving unhealthy treats for performing well. Surprise surprise! Of course they are. No argument there. Used well, it’s a cheap and effective and, more importantly, fun, little thing for the kids involved. Apparently though, according to these figures, 90% of these parents disapprove of the practice. News to me. I’ve yet to have any parent complain about the lolly jar sitting in plain sight on my desk. When most parents see it for the first time they look down at their little darling and suggest ‘you’d better behave if you want one of those, eh?’ In fact… I get a lot more complaints from parents about running the kids around the oval for various reasons.

Ironically, I read this article after spending the day with 60 odd kids at our local district school sports! I’ll post about that one later for a bit of good, light hearted stuff!

Back to this article though. It seems to even imply a negative response to the practice of kids bringing lolly bags and cupcakes to share with their class on their birthdays. It’s the kid’s birthday! If that’s not a traditional time to celebrate with a lolly or a little bit of cake, then when is? You see the kids walking in as proud as punch with another year on their age and a tupperware box filled with a cupcake for each kid (and the teacher, mind you!) that will take all of three bites to consume. Let the kids have their day, eh?

And yes, apparently there is a childhood obesity epidemic we’re not helping to remedy too. The odd lolly given out as a prize for working their backsides off compared to three or four laps of the oval each week. Which side of the ‘healthy/unhealthy’ kid ledger am I likely to have those kids on?

I’ve just looked through the class photos of each of my grades over the eight years I’ve been teaching. If I had to be mean and nasty, I could count 18 kids who would possibly be either fat or obese. Six of these play sport at quite a high level all the same. That’s less than 20 kids out of a total of about 420. Puppy fat, baby fat and kids who you know are going to shoot up and become string beans I’m not counting, and I don’t think they should be. Yep, lots of kids are unhealthily fat, but I’ve yet to see this range of 20-40% that is regularly bandied around. Personally, my figures are about 2%, but I must just be a little kinder on the little fellers burning off their baby fat.

Anyway, this is the way the lolly jar works on my desk. Firstly, if anyone is going to get fat from it, it’s going to be me. When the kids are elsewhere and I’m working alone in the room, I’m going to graze from the jar myself. Not to mention my practice of eating one of these lollies in front of the kids when they’re working too loudly. A quiet ‘you’re too noisy, I get a lolly’ shuts them up a lot more efficiently than calling out ‘too much noise, lower the volume or lose your tongue!’

Okay, that phrase has worked at times too, but the kids know you’re joking.

At the end of each week, we hold a raffle draw. One ticket is drawn out for each day we’ve been at school that week. Usually five, then. And each winning kid gets to choose one lolly from the jar. The largest lolly in this jar is probably a musk stick which has been broken in two. The rest are usually licorice allsorts, chocolate bullets or jelly beans. No matter the size, they win one lolly. So at the end of the week, five kids get one lolly. And you can bet there are fifteen to twenty other kids wishing they were the lucky winners instead. All for one lolly.

At the end of each fortnight, we see which table group won with the most table points. These lucky kids get two lollies for their two weeks of good work. Which means, if they’re lucky enough to also win the raffle draw, they walk out at the end of the week with three lollies!

We then add up the points for all four tables. If this combined total is higher than our previous high score, then every kid gets one lolly as a reward for the whole grade working well. This happens maybe once a term, which is good, because otherwise I’d be running out of money refilling my stocks! So, again, if a kid is really lucky that week, they might get a raffle prize, win the table points, and the grade might break their points record. Which means the kid might walk away at the end of the week with a total of four lollies.

Which apparently will set them on the path of childhood obesity.

I’m going to go back to the start of the week though and begin again. Monday mornings, unless it’s absolutely belting it down with rain, the kids all do a lap of the oval after assembly. Complaints fall on deaf ears unless they can show either a note from their parents or a plaster cast on their leg. As often as possible, the half hour before lunch after maths is a huff’n'puff session. Twenty odd minutes of physical activity outside after, yep, a lap of the oval. The kids could do up to six laps of this oval each week. Adding in the distance from the room to the oval and back, that’s about a kilometre over the week alread with recess and lunchtimes still to come.

We have the favourite ‘apple slinky’ machine in the room where at recess and lunchtime, kids can peel, core and slinky their apples to eat. Up goes the apple consumption of the school by about 200%! After lunch during silent reading, the kids are also allowed to eat any left over fruit they’ve brought from home. Twice a term we usually have a ‘healthy lunch’ day as well. If the kids have water in their drink bottles, they can keep them on their tables and use them throughout the day. Lots of healthy options and nutrition and fitness happening all week.

But at the end of the week a kid might get four lollies!

Surely there’s room for the odd lolly amidst all the fitness, healthy eating and exercise we also promote.

Yes, I know there are fat kids out there and schools are working their own weight off trying to bend their curriculum and timetables around new guidelines and requirements being passed down to us to keep these kids fit and healthy, but it goes too far sometimes. No lollies in the jar for the odd little treat that makes being a kid so much fun? Hopefully my parents will continue to let me reward their kids with the odd little morsel of sweet, sugary delight without worrying that I’m damaging the health of their little prides and joys.

I know there are a few readers out there with kids of their own. I’m looking at this purely from my side of the debate, but I honestly can’t see any serious reason other than allergies or similar to particular additives and so forth where, run like this (as the vast majorities of classrooms seem to) could realistically be seen as negligent. I’d be interested in any responses to either side, but I’ll say again though that I’ll fight to keep my lolly jar until they tell me ‘lose the jar or lose your job’.

Let the kids be kids while they still can, I reckon.

Cheers.

Technorati Tags: childhood obesity, health, children’s health, lollies, teaching

I was sitting there during lunchtime today, just minding my own business while I killed off a cheese and olive roll I picked up on the way in from the bakery this morning - because today is shopping day and that usually means there’s bugger all in the pantry - when I felt a presence beside me. I turned my attention from the sports page of the paper (much more interesting a read when your team’s won on the weekend) towards this figure who has knelt down at the table beside me and there she was. All sweet smiles and innocence with a hint of a question. And that hint is all you ever need if you know what you’re looking for.

‘What?’ I asked, knowing my services were being sought. Can you ever trust that innocent, sweet grin you get when someone drops beside you and just waits for you to turn around and see them? Of course not! Especially when it’s coming from a fellow teacher, eh?

‘I have a big favour to ask you,’ she said to me, ‘but you’re not allowed to say no!’

‘Oh good, I hate decisions.’

Turns out her son has applied for a music scholarship to one of the secondary colleges around the traps. Being the music coordinator (or the closest thing we’ve got at our primary school), he needed a reference from me in regards to his attitude, abilities, talents and so forth. By Wednesday. Could I do it? Would I do it?

Silly question, eh? Of course I’d do it.

Fact of the matter is, the kids a better musician than I am already anyway. Okay, I probably know a bit more about how music’s put together and held together and stuff like that, but this kid could outplay me with one hand tied behind his back plucking a catgut string tied between two goalposts. I know enough to belt out or pick out a tune on an acoustic guitar to make ten year olds sit up and take notice, but that’s just simple tricks and deliberately playing bad chords to make them laugh. Plug it into an amplifier and they’ll think you’re a rock god. This kid though… he played lead guitar in the school musical two years ago when he was in grade four and only ten… and the little bugger deliberately played a little solo riff at the very end of each song so he could get the last note in!

So I’ve just spent the last hour or so typing up a few paragraphs to hand over to his mum tomorrow covering a few points I thought were important. Hopefully it’ll be enough to make this other school sit up and take notice and give him the result he deserves. I’ll just ask the kid for a free copy of any CD he cuts when he starts a proper career!

I never had the chance to teach him for a year myself, but I’ve worked with him for the last four years with the band now, and I reckon I might just have had the best side of the deal.

Related Posts: Advancing a teaching level, Writing a reference… follow up

Technorati Tags: teaching, references, kids, music

We held our annual Easter Fair this afternoon and one of the activities our grade organised and ran was what has become my staple Easter Fair event, Whack-a-ferret. In this case the burrow is a dirty great piece of white polypipe with a bend at the bottom, the kid waiting at the end is holding aloft a little wooden mallet to belt the snot out of the ferret as it comes out of the pipe, and the ferret itself is a soft yellow ball with eyes, whiskers and a tail drawn on in permanent texta. If they manage to whack the ferret on the way past they win a little solid Easter egg. If they don’t, then they’ve donated 20c (or three turns for 50c!) and generally come back to try again later and give us more money.

Nothing all that dastardly, eh? Nothing really dangerous except maybe a squashed finger if anybody nearby isn’t paying attention. It’s not like it’s a real ferret, eh?

Which is what turned up today.

Yup. While dropping our ferret down the polypipe and watching kids belt the life out of the asphalt as it rolled past, a mother held a real ferret down where I could see (on a leash with a little seat-belt harness, naturally…) and with a grin suggested they were here to protest the unfair treatment of ferrets. I thought nothing much more of it and gave a friendly chuckle while wondering why you would bother bringing what is basically a hairy snake with legs to a primary school anyway.

At least, until the cunning little blighter bit one of my kids…

Yup. It’s not everyday you write up a sick-bay incident report when the incident involves a kid getting bitten by a ferret. What more could I do than get him to clean the blood away and whack a bandaid on?

Fortunately, Mum was quite okay with the whole deal when I approached her with the story at the end of the day. Turns out they actually see this woman every now and then walking her ferrets down the street! It was only last night when they joked that he’d be coming to school to help run Whack-a-ferret and wouldn’t it be funny if a real one bit him. He’ll get a proper clean with some Dettol or something tonight and she’ll let me know if it causes any more trouble, so I’m appreciative of her good humour and understanding.

But honestly… bringing a ferret to an Easter Fair…

At least I can add that to my list of ’strangest things I’ve had to tell parents’, eh?

Related Posts: The Ferret Song

Technorati Tags: ferrets, Easter, parents, teaching