The Quiet

Last week was kind of a quiet week at school. As I predicted, the fairly well-behaved classes don't give me very many interesting stories to blog about. My major issues have to do with students not turning in work (and earning F's). 

One day Jasper came to my desk to ask for a restroom pass. Although, "ask" is too strong a word. He pointed outside and kind of motioned.

And that's when I realized, had I actually heard Jasper talk? 

Yeah, I had. But quietly. He whispers. Barely talks.

But suddenly, he's not talking at all.

The students have book work. They read the chapters. They write outlines. They answer key idea questions. (It's the way Mr. B has the class set up.) Occasionally I'll read with them. 

The room tends to remain pretty quiet.

And Jasper has gotten quieter. It's not like he was loud before. But now...

I was tempted to make him ask me in words what he wanted. I think I did. But then I realized, if he doesn't want to talk, why should he? 

We're getting into the end of the year. It's getting darker earlier. I think we're all tired.

Maybe it's time to let some of us go quiet. Just for a bit.

Routines

It was the Tuesday after Thanksgiving break, and I was rolling into school per normal. (See yesterday's post.) I had taken a few steps onto campus when Onyx again fell into step alongside me.

After Monday's encounter, I was less concerned about Onyx's motives. She again followed me into the classroom, but this time, she put a can of soda in the teacher's fridge (as opposed to removing one). Then she left.

She removed the can after her class period. I did not hear of any mishaps, so I assume she got to drink the whole thing.

So, Wednesday morning, I looked for Onyx. I expected her to appear. She did not.

But, I did see Mr. B, my teacher neighbor. (He's in the classroom next door. He teaches special ed English.) He had gotten to school just before me, and was ahead of me on the trek to the classrooms. 

Onyx had fallen into step alongside him.

Well, okay then.

On Thursday, I saw Mr. B but not Onyx. On Friday, I again spied Onyx in step alongside Mr. B. 

I guess I just need to get to school a bit later. Or something.

Denied

It was the Monday after Thanksgiving break, and I had just arrived at school. One of the nice things about being on a long-term assignment is that I was able to check out keys. So, rather than having to head to the front office, I could let myself in the gate from the parking lot and head directly to the classroom. 

It was about a half hour before the beginning of the school day. I wasn't quite ready for people yet. I had walked a few steps past the school gym when Onyx fell into step beside me.

It took me a minute to get back into teacher mode. Onyx began a story about some party she'd gone to that she didn't want to be at because she wanted to go to bed. It was "too late" at 11 PM or something. And then there was other drama having to do with another party over the break.

Onyx followed me up to the classroom door.

I didn't want Onyx in the room to stay. She wasn't in the first class of the day. (I had conference period immediately, so I wasn't going to have students for a bit.) But I didn't want to be rude.

I opened the classroom door, and Onyx walked in ahead of me. She went to the teacher's fridge, and she pulled out a can of soda.

Onyx had brought the soda in before the break during her class period. She had headed out "to the restroom" and returned with the soda. I don't know where she got it. But I do remember that she hadn't retrieved it before I closed the room before the break.

Once Onyx had her soda, she left.

Ah. That's okay, then.

I did have Onyx in the next class. She told me that soon after opening her soda, she managed to spill it all over. (I believe she was outside.) 

Bummer.

Dissuaded

What if? It's the basis of many stories. We ask. We ponder. We wonder. 

On Tuesdays I throw one out there. What if? It may be speculative. It may stem from something I see. It may be something I pull from the news. 

Make of it what you will. If a for instance is not specified, interpret that instance as you wish. And if the idea turns into a story, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements 😉

The other day on Bluesky, there was a discussion about how private equity firms have been buying up companies, and in an effort to boost profits, they've necessitated that these companies make inferior products that break easily so consumers need to repurchase more durable goods more frequently. It started as a "why don't things last anymore?" kind of thing.

(If you're on Bluesky, you can follow me--I'm @zizirho.bsky.social. If you'd like to be on Bluesky, I have a couple invite codes. Just message me at mllelizka [at] gmail [dot] com and I'll hook you up.)

As these things do, the discussion got me thinking...

What if there was some sort of limit on massive profits? It would likely have to be a massive tax over a certain margin or something. If you can figure out what it needs to be, perhaps you should run for Congress 😈

That Was Easy

The tree is done.

Thanksgiving

Once I got started, it went pretty quickly.

Monday

I took it to school with me. While the kiddos were working on their assignments, I had time to crochet.

Tuesday

I photographed them after each day. (Well, every other day. I took a picture of what was on the cone, then added what I finished that day and took a second picture.)

Wednesday

Then, I realized I was again running out of yarn. But, I had just gotten it, so I went back to the yarn store, and I bought a second skein.

Thursday

And I continued on. I mean, I started class off with announcements. I answered questions. I graded some papers (the instructional aide graded the majority of the work). I entered scores into the gradebook. It wasn't like I wasn't working.

Friday

As I worked my way up, each little band got smaller and smaller. So, the longer I worked, the quicker it went.

Saturday

And then it was done. And I absolutely love it. Isn't it cute?

Tree posts:

• Just Started
• Starting Over

Trapped

It was the last twenty or so minutes of first period on the Friday before Thanksgiving break. (I saved all my subbing stories for when school was back in session.) My class of six was working quietly. (We had spent the first half hour of class or so reading the current section in the textbook.)

An announcement was made to the whole school. "Teachers, lock your doors..."

Lovely. We were on lockdown.

I removed the blocker from the door as it was already closed. As no students were out using the restroom, it was just a matter of waiting. 

Because I am a sub, I don't get school-wide emails. I asked Ms. P (the instructional assistant who does get the emails) if something had come through. As she told me nothing had, a student informed us that she had learned (via her sister) that someone had hopped the fence onto campus. (The description was a male Hispanic not wearing a shirt.) 

We heard a helicopter overhead. From the classroom, I could see the front of the school. Deputy sheriffs arrived through the front gate. Ms. P got a photo from her daughter showing the outside of the school with police cars lining the curb. Another student got a message with the description of the incident posted somewhere. 

We waited. 

At about the point in class when the students usually clean up, a couple of them got up. 

"We're on lockdown. We're not going anywhere. Get comfortable."

They still put their stuff away, but the teacher had some games in his cabinet, so two girls got out an Uno deck. 

Then, at about two minutes before the bell would have rung, Alvin (who had clearly been not aware of anything) put on his backpack and headed for the door. I repeated my explanation that no one was going anywhere until the situation had been resolved. (Although I couched it as good news. I let them know that we were losing time in third period as they always give us the full break when something like this happens.)

Suddenly, Alvin was not happy. (He had been oblivious before. He also had had a restroom pass shortly before the lockdown was called.) He wanted to leave. Although, his complaints were mild, and they only lasted a short time.

The sound of the helicopter stopped. 

There was a knock on the classroom door. Because the room has windows, I saw a couple sheriff deputies outside. Before I could get to the door, security opened it from the outside. (That security person actually used to be a cop. He told me this on the day my car battery was stolen.) 

They were checking the room for anyone who wasn't supposed to be there. As no one had come in or out, I gave the all clear.

A couple minutes later, the principal made an announcement over the PA system.

A passing motorist had seen someone hopping the fence and called authorities. The individual was a student. A female student wearing a tan shirt. 

(Oh, you should have heard the howls during the following snack break. They were not pleased.)

The end of the period was called. They got a snack break (which is the usual after first period) and then they were on to third period (we have a block schedule). 

Students hopping the fence is a problem, but I am unclear as to why a student would hop the fence to get onto campus. (They usually are leaving.) Sure, they have to go through the office, but it's not like we don't know they're late anyway.

Ah well. We had to have some drama on the Friday before the break. It isn't a proper day before the break otherwise.

Walks Like a Duck

Thursday (before Thanksgiving break). Fourth period.

Onyx: "I'm not high. But my keyboard is moving."

The computer in question was sitting stationary on the table.

This is my second full week in the class. I have Onyx in two different classes. She's been pretty mellow. But on this day... 

Not high? I doubt it.

She started off by telling another student to back off. (He didn't want to listen. He felt it was his duty to not give up and help Onyx with whatever it was that was bothering her. In this I intervened letting him know that this was not the time to push.) So, to keep the peace, I had Onyx sit closer to me.

It was a drop drill day, so when Onyx got under her desk, she accused it of stabbing her in the back. (She fell on one of the table legs.) How one can fall when one is sitting on the floor... 

She spent the rest of the period listening to her music. There was a bit of seat dancing. But I don't think she got much of the actual work done.

Not high? Perhaps. But something was definitely going on with her.

And she can't understand why she has a D in the class. (I attempted to explain where the problem was, but she didn't quite grasp my explanation.)