Ms. Bell is the Dragon

When M. raises her hand, more often than not her comment is, "Once I went to Oakley to visit my aunt." It could be math time, during a read aloud, or on our way to lunch. Whenever, wherever, M.'s mind is on her trip to Oakley (which, in fact, happened nearly a year ago). In writing workshop too, M. writes constantly about Oakley, no matter which genre we are studying. She's written personal narratives about Oakley, informational reports on Oakley, responses to literature about Oakley (that was a stretch). All Oakley, all the time.

Needless to say, M. is a bit of a space cadet. The other day I was talking to M. about a story she was writing about going to an amusement park (amazingly enough, not located in Oakley). I asked her to read the story aloud: "Once we went to the amusement park," she started, "We stood in line for an hour. I ate a hot dog. I meowed like a cat. It was hot." She put the page down. "What?! You meowed like a cat?" I asked M. "Meow meow meow," she responded repeatedly. Our conference was over. I spent the rest of writing workshop time trying to reduce M.'s meows to a whisper.

I love her, but M. does seem to live in her own world. Just last week I was looking through the appreciations the class had written for our volunteer, Ms. Bell. "Ms. Bell is nice," wrote one student. "Ms. Bell helps us when we need help," wrote another. As for M.?

"Ms. Bell is the Dragon."

Not "Ms. Bell looks like a dragon" or even "Ms. Bell is a dragon" but "Ms. Bell is THE dragon." I don't think I'm going to tell Ms. Bell that apparently she is, in fact, the dragon.

Furballs

All day long J. (one of my most irresistible 1st graders) kept making a hacking noise. During reading group, hacking. During circle time on the rug, again, the hack appeared. After each loud hack the class would turn to J. and he would reply to our questioning faces by nonchalantly saying, "I've got a furball." What? I didn't know I had a cat as a student! Once J. even explained further by saying, "I must have eaten too much fur." The weird thing was that no one seemed to find this odd but me.

In other strange mouth-related news, one of my drama-filled girls has started moving her lips uncontrollably. Without talking! Whenever I talk to her about something serious (i.e. reminding her to do her work), she will move her lips while listening to me. But she won't be saying anything. It's as if she's chanting or saying Hail Mary's to herself. It's starting to creep me out.

You Scratch My Back, I'll Scratch Yours

This afternoon I had my weekly tutoring session with W. During our 40 minutes together after school, W. obsessively used the phrase "You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" as if it was the new "yes."

Me: Can you take out your reading book?
W: You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. (W. erupts in laughter).
Me: Um, okay. But where is your book?
W: Right here. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. (Again, laughter eruption).
Me: Do you really want me to scratch your back?
W: You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.

It's simultaneously irritating and amusing how 1st graders latch onto these lame phrases. Where do they even learn them from? I'm certain that I've never used the phrase "You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" around my students (that would be a bit rude, eh?).

Regardless, W. finally got off the back-scratching kick today and we had a productive tutoring session. W. was a boy who at the beginning of the year had no clue about the alphabet and, when asked to write, would repeatedly write "CATMOMCATMOMCATMOM" all over his paper. Back in September, when I would ask W. to read what he wrote, he would read me these cat-mom strings. W. would point to the words ("cat" and "mom") and read, "Once I went to the store with my parents. We got ice cream and went home to play cards." All while pointing to CATMOMCATMOMCATMOM.

Today W. stretched out words as he wrote about his trip to Los Angeles. (And no, the words weren't just "cat" and "mom"). There was a time when I was afraid W. would never learn his alphabet and the corresponding sounds. But I kept at him, working with him during and after school and hoping that someday it would click.

I kept scratching his back and now (finally) he's scratching mine.

A horrible hidden smell....

I walked into my classroom this morning to find the most rancid smell. It smells like tomato sauce and I can't find the source anywhere. I believe it will drive me insane by the day's end! I have Febrezed repeatedly yet the smell seems like it is becoming more pungent by the minute. The worst part is, it seems to be coming from my desk so I can't even blame my kids...