05 November 2008

snapshots

There was such excitement at Barton around the election results. It seemed like everyone I came in contact with was in great spirits this morning. Rather than saying "hello," most of my kids' greetings were informing me about Barack's win. I love that kids were so involved with the election. I gave my students a morning writing assignment asking their opinions about changes that might occur with Barack being the new president. I was pleased to hear responses such as, 'the gas prices might go down,' and 'taxes would be lower.'

I bought a new car yesterday. My old car was a huge headache. I didn't realize how much it was affecting everything else in my life. There is so much more in the classroom than students and a teacher. Your entire world comes with you. Today was rough, but I could relax in the fact that I would be able to walk out the door and my car would start.

Today, I realized that controlling my temper is much more difficult than just exploding whenever kids are getting way out of hand. I was really pushing myself to submerge my anger , yelling, and sarcasm--trying instead to stay calm and direct with the kids. I don't know where all that anger goes though. That kind of worries me.

We're working on small moment personal narratives in writing. The kids are getting really tired of it, but most of them are working hard to get through it. One of the early steps in our writing process is to write a time line of the events that took place in a very small block of time. I have a lot of kids who still don't understand how to zoom in from a best-day-ever stories to a best -moment-of-the-best-day story--a seed story. I was conferring with a kid who made a time line of like half a day. I always tell the kids that a seed story is about 5-10 minutes long--20 at most. I asked him if the events took place over 5-10 minutes. He said yes. I didn't argue. I had him to get the timer, set it for 5 minutes, and sent him to his desk. I told him to press the start button when he sat down and watch the timer until it stopped. I said that I wanted him to feel five minutes. He sat; he waited; he felt 5 minutes. When he came back I asked again, did the events on your time line last 5 minutes? No, it was a lot more than 5 minutes. He even remembered that somewhere between the first and last events he went outside and was surprised at how dark the sky was. We've been at this for 10 weeks to no avail. In 5 minutes, he got it. Less is more.

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