Amanda Takes Off...

Yesterday Good Man drove.

A lot.

Today he drove quite a bit.

His turns are vastly improved. He's a very good, very careful driver. OK, so he's made a few mistakes, but you know, he's not bad at all.

Now he's got two years (two years!) of Amanda Is the Only Driver to make up for.

Let the good times begin!

I should have known better.

When I was 9 or 10, I read Charlotte's Web. I cried at one part, which I remember clearly because I arrived at my grandparents' house sobbing.

I picked up 샬롯의 거미줄 this winter, even though when I tried to read the first page, it was too hard. Recently, I tried the first chapter and understood most of it, so I decided it would be my next book to read.

Yesterday, Charlotte hinted to Wilbur that she was getting tired and old.

I cried.

Good Man stared at me. "Why?"

"She's going to die!"

"No, she's just getting old, that's what it says."

I wailed, "She's being Korean! She's talking around it! 'It seems like I am getting old...'"

"You are strange. You are like my mother, you cry a lot."

This afternoon, Charlotte told Wilbur she really wasn't going to return to the farm with him. She had a day or two left to live. And Wilbur begged, begged, begged Templeton to get Charlotte's egg sac.

I cried.

Good Man stared at me. "It is book!"

"I know! But Charlotte's Wilbur's best friend, and she's going to die and he's going to be stuck with the mean old rat!"

"She is laying...how many?"

"Five hundred fourteen."

"Five hundred fourteen eggs!"

I shook my head, "But they won't be Charlotte!"

"You are 울보," Good Man said.

"I am not a crybaby!"

"Then you are cryadult."

Tonight, Charlotte died. All alone. And Wilbur watched all but three of her 514 babies leave. He asked them to come back, to stay, but they left. Wilbur did befriend the three who stayed.

And I cried.

Good Man just looked at me. "If roach did magic, would you cry?"

"Roaches don't make webs."

Good Man pointed to the wall in the bedroom where our house spiders live, "This is why you don't kill spiders! You read when you were kid and now you expect spiders to do magic!"

"Of course!" Then I started laughing. And crying. Because I sounded ridiculous. But isn't that the joy in reading children's books? Believing in magic?

"If you care about fake talking spider in book so much, then you should never kill spider, roach, grasshopper, ant..."

"I'm not Buddhist," I said.

"Why don't you join PETA?"

"I eat meat."

Good Man shook his head, "And you are crying over spider in a book! I am just pointing out your paradox..."

***

I was on-track for my Korean goal and then Mother's visit, the end of the school year, a weekend at the beach, ten days in Canada, and having a hard time getting through multiple books all set me back.

But, onward and upward. I've finished "소나기" and 샬롯의 거미줄 since my last update.

533,300

One of the joys (and hardships) of teaching the ultimate grade in a school is hormones, testing, middle school woes, graduation, and end-of-the-year parties. I've taught the last grade in (American) schools for five years now and no matter if it's fifth grade or sixth grade, you run into the same problems.

Hormones

This true conversation I witnessed last year should illustrate this problem perfectly.

Last Year's Grade Level Partner: I have a yes or no question for you. I simply want you to answer 'yes' or 'no.' Do you understand?

Student: Yes.

Last Year's Grade Level Partner: Were you kissing [Grade Level Hottie] in the closet yesterday?

Student, long pause: During class?

Last Year's Grade Level Partner: Yes or no question.

Student: During school?

Testing

"Why do we have math when we already did the SOL?"

"We still have to do Language Arts? Oh, come on!"

School should end three days after the state tests are done. End of story.

Middle School Woes

Inevitably, after the spring visit to the middle school (which usually involves a tour and course selection afterward), the students have mentally checked out. Their Nearly-Teenager status changes into Completely Teenager status and you get a lot of dramatic sighing and "I'm too cool for this place" attitudes.

Yet, the students are terrified of middle school and don't want to admit it. So they're all putting on these cool attitudes, but inside they're shaking.

Graduation

Graduation is a terror. The students suddenly forget how to walk. It takes four times more practice than it should. Every year, the teachers tear out their hair with worry that the kids will look incompetent at graduation. Inevitably, they suddenly get it together when it actually counts.

Of course, at least two girls will show up wearing completely inappropriate clothing, six girls will show up in too much makeup, and five boys will show up in trashed pants or a dingy undershirt, thus necesitating an emergency run to Marshall's or the clothing closet by the administration, in search of something—anything—to wear.

And then, I cry. And cry.

End of the Year Trips and Parties

When I taught (fifth grade) in Georgia, we went on a day-long trip to Tennessee. It was always a blast, but exhausting. We had the right to exclude real behavior problem students, but I was always annoyed that we left late because someone couldn't or wouldn't show up on time. We said we would leave at 7:00 sharp, but never did, which meant the visit to the child's science museum (one of the coolest parts of the trip) was always short.

The students would show up with tons of junk food for the coach trip to Tennessee. The teachers would fall asleep at the IMAX movie and on the way home and the students would ask how we could possibly be so tired.

Still, it was a delight.

At this school we usually have a day-long party. Every other grade gets a half-day party, and the sixth graders are supposed to get a full-day party. But last year it was miserable. You just can't keep 12 year-old kids entertained for a full day at school. This year we were asked to do a three-hour "lock-in" instead.

It was planned by the PTA with little input from us (they actually wanted to go to a water park, which requires all sorts of hoop-jumping, and they announced it without finding out about any of the hoop-jumping!).

I dreaded it. Of five years of teaching, this group of students has been the worst for end-of-the-year-behavior. They've been terrible. And we weren't allowed to tell students they couldn't come.

Well, the lock-in was yesterday and it was wonderful. The kids pigged out on food and played Wii and danced, made friendship bracelets and painted hats with puff paint.

Two students challenged me to Wii. I beat Dead Meat on round one of Wii boxing and then he knocked me out in round two. (Ouch.) A child who is one of the most... spoiled kids on the grade challenged me next. I went three rounds and beat him each time.

When I finished everyone cheered, I gave him a high-five (it was close) and turned to the principal, who laughed and said, "I saw you get out months of frustration right there."

Yeah, and it was like target practice at taekwondo. My shoulders still ache!

The students had claimed they were going to slow dance. Fairy Godmother and I laughed, knowing full well they would never do that. Instead, it was dance tunes the whole way.

Toward the end of the party, "Boom Boom Pow" was playing and we were all in a circle and one of my quieter students suddenly started break dancing! We were in so surprised. Who knew he could do that? And even better! Even better! Our new principal joined him.

The teachers were in shock. None of us had ever seen anything like it.

At one point, almost everyone on the grade was jumping around, screaming and shouting and dancing to "I've Gotta Feeling." And in that moment, all of the frustration I've felt toward my students for the last month just melted away. Fairy Godmother, a resource teacher, and I were with the students jumping and dancing and there was just such an energy.

I've gotta feeling that I will miss these kids. And I will cry at graduation.

Even if they've been making me crazy.

My brother and I chatted last night and somehow got talking about...zombies.

"Wouldn't you want to go to an island if zombies attacked?" I asked.

"Oh no, no, especially if they can walk on the ocean floor. Nope, bad idea."

***

Good Man had his first behind the wheel driving lesson. Because I love him, I am paying someone else to teach him. I asked him a few days ago if he was nervous.

"Well, no, not really, they will not make me drive the first day, right?"

I looked at him. "Probably not in the first twenty minutes, but if we're paying for two hours of behind the wheel, you'd better drive!"

"But... I do not know how to drive! What if I hit something?"

"They have dual controls, so the instructor can use the gas and brake on his side, too."

Good Man looked at me. "That is simply not possible!" I just laughed and he changed his tune. "Fine, fine, I will see."

:::

I called him at lunchtime today to ask how his lesson went.

"Nnnn-kay. I did not kill the man."

"Well, that's good."

"You said he would not put me on highway right away. You said we would do side streets, but he did put me on highway! He just told me to drive! For two hours I drive! I went to that area, by public health, um, Seven Corners, and it was so scary! The signs are too confusing. And I do not understand why I can only use one foot. You use two feet to drive—"

I nodded at the hell that is Seven Corners and said, "I drive a stick. You're driving an automatic. You only drive an automatic with one foot."

Good Man slowly shook his head. "I think that is not true in Korea."

"Well, that would explain why Koreans are scary-ass drivers."

"I drove all over! And turning is hard. Why don't you accelerate in a turn?"

I was confused. "You have to accelerate in a turn if you start from a stop."

"But when I hit accelerator I go vrooooom too fast, even when I am gentle!"

I laughed, "You just need practice. Want me to schedule you for two times a week?"

"No! It is too scary! One time a week. Two hours is a long time!"

I let Good Man continue a bit longer. I finally said, "And this is why I want you to learn how to drive! It's stressful and it's not fair that I always have to be the one to drive!"

Good Man raised an eyebrow. "You are very sneaky! You let me complain and never disagree just so you can make me not quit and have to learn more!"

Amanda Teacher: So can something you own own something? If I own this book, what does the book own?

Dead Meat, mumbles.

Amanda Teacher: What? I didn't hear that.

Dead Meat, shakes his head, finally, after I've assured him he's not going to get in trouble: The book owns the pages.

Amanda Teacher: But I can tear the page out.

Dead Meat: The pages still own the words.

Amanda Teacher: And the words?

Dead Meat's classmates are grinning, whispering answers, and egging him on.

Dead Meat, after a pause: The letters.

Amanda Teacher: And the letters?

Dead Meat: The lines!

Sub-Atomic, beating me to the punch: What about the lines?

Dead Meat: ... The ink!

The class cheers and looks at me as if to say, "Ha! What now, Ms?"

Amanda Teacher, slowly: But who owned the ink before it was on the page?

Dead Meat, jaw drops: That's not fair.

Student Aide: Wow, this is like philosophy.

Quiet Student Who's Suddenly Been on the Ball Lately: Can we do more of this?

Sure, kids, we can do more of this.