The sixth graders began their transformation into seventh graders this week. Looking back, there were warning signs - changes in social behavior, quality of work slipping, increased bouts of rudeness. And the theft of a girl's cell phone, followed by prank phone calls to her mother by a child claiming to be our pregnant art teacher. Omens, indeed. My sweet babies, changelings: eye-rolling, gum-popping, cat-fighting, homework-neglecting, hallway-dawdling darlings. My inner anthropologist wonders if it is inexorable, or a product of our society's creation of adolescence, or of our school's social structure. My inner sixth grade team leader vows that we will get them back, those children we once knew. My inner - and outer - pissed off teacher self yelled at them (really
yelled at them) for the first time today... oops. I know full well that
isn't going to improve the situation.
On the bright side, in spite of it all, a few kids in one class decided, unprompted, that they'd done enough research and began writing their essays about energy resources. Wait,
I said, use this
, and handed those kids the outline worksheets that I'd been planning to use tomorrow. Hands began to go up as the period ended. Can I start my outline, too?
We'll get 'em back. Or we'll go with them and come out the other side. They'll be okay.
School this week has sucked. Life in general, pretty good. Glamour
informs me that I am a somnorexic - deny myself sleep on weeknights, binge on weekends. And reading the health risks in black & white made me want to do better. And yes, I not only read Glamour
, I subscribe