I felt the current of hyperactive electricity before the first bell had even rung. These kids were WIRED with a capital dubya’. Great. It’s bad enough when the week is shortened, but to add a coming holiday, an afternoon party, and a pile of sugary sweets that I was idiotic enough to have brought for them, there was trouble a’brewin’. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.
The first sign of the coming doom was when my assigned New Teacher Mentor came down to my room and let me know that he wanted to come observe me for the afternoon. TODAY??? Are you for real? Do you understand that this afternoon will be the Bermuda Triangle of educational learning? Yes, he knew how preholiday school days go. He needed to log some observation hours – he would take whatever this afternoon brought in stride. Can I have that signed and notarized?
The first time The Question came was about 2.8 minutes after we said the pledge to the flag. “Mrs. Dahl, when are we having our party?” They came regular after that, like labor contractions near the transition phase. “Mrs. Dahl, when are we having our party?” I just told you, we’ll have it this afternoon.” Then as if I hadn’t said a word, “Mrs. Dahl, are we having our party next?” So you think if you rephrase the question you’ll trick me into a different answer? The same question must have arisen twenty times before lunch. Am I sitting under a Cone of Silence? The answer is AFTER LUNCH. Don’t ask me again. “Ok, but Mrs. Dahl, when are we having our party?” Sigh….I give up.
The next chime on the Learning Death Clock came after lunch recess. They all filtered back into the room either in tears or gloomy-faced. Yesterday had seen a fight that ended in blows, and I just knew that today had been more of the same. WEF was obviously recruiting on our playground. OK, somebody tell me what happened. “Somebody farted and he blamed me for the stink!” (suppressing a smile) “Is that a good reason to hit him?” I could tell by the look on his face he thought it was. I’m confused. The men in my house consider that a badge of honor. Maybe Stink Pride happens along with puberty. Males are interesting creatures. That’s all I can say.
I decided some group therapy might be in order and gathered my miniature Rocky Balboas into a circle and somberly discussed respect, kindness, and self-control. Did it help? Who knows? At the very least, it quieted the restless natives for a few minutes and peace was restored momentarily. The offending parties did volunteer apologies to each other. Well, that’s a good sign anyway.
After dealing with recess troubles, I vainly tried to get some instruction in. Got a spelling test in and then my mentor walked in for my Fish-In-A-Glass-Bowl experience. Well, maybe something in our afternoon would be slightly impressive. Turns out, not so much. I did have a fairly calm reading intervention group, but then it was time for The Dreaded Party. The kids were getting more and more hyper. They needed warm milk intravenously, not SUGAR. What was I thinking?
It WAS fun to watch them hunt for their hidden goodie bags in the classroom. Still snow and mud outside, so we’ll make do indoors. They were thrilled with their trinkets and candies, and munched appreciatively on their cupcakes. And miracle of miracles, not one spilled punch cup!
I bravely tried to forge ahead with my afternoon lesson plans, but it really was pointless. They were not anywhere near the vicinity of Want To Learn. The final straw came when I sent them up to the gym for PE. They were so buzzed on sugar, carbs, and red dye #14 that they nearly floated up the stairs. It seemed they had no sooner left when I heard that familiar clomping of feet coming back down the steps. No PE today. Gym’s being used by the high school. If EVER they needed to do some running, it was this day. Oh well. I’ll scrape them off the ceiling in time to get on the bus.
Foolishly, I tried to get them to do some creative writing at the end of the day. No go. They were done. I had toyed with the idea of an afternoon movie, but rejected it on principle. I think I should have thrown principle out the window. I don’t know if they learned anything or not. I DO know they had fun. Maybe they won’t suffer long-term damage after all. Time will tell.
I do love Easter. I love baskets, and pastel decorations, and dyed chicken eggs, and little girls in frilly dresses and white patent leather shoes. And I love ham, and family dinners and watching sweet children run around trying to find hidden eggs. And most of all, I love the Easter story of Resurrection and Hope.
But for the record, I do not like the day before break. Not this year anyway. Next year we’re having detoxifying steamed veggies for our party. AND a movie…
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