Ok. I have my Teacher Hat on today. Can you see it? It is very pretty, trust me.
Who let these kids into my classroom? Those kids over there with no manners and the drippy snacks.
I believe that a certain amount of glamour should be injected into any situation. Clothes, shoes, lipstick, all these things are necessary in my life without sacrificing any elements of intellect. Who said you need to be frumpy to teach? Who ever said a classroom could be a mess?
I cannot abide by the mess in my room. 120 students pass through my classroom over the course of 30 periods a week. Many of these people seem to think that there are people with brooms following them where ever they go. Now perhaps this is a sad reflection of wealthy children who live with too much staff at home. Perhaps they have got what I call King Syndrome here in Africa. Whatever it is, it will not fly in my classroom.
At the end of a teaching day these are some of the items that I find on the floor:
Potato Chip packet
A pair of sneakers
A gym bag
A variety of tests and assignments from a variety of classes
Math book (I don’t teach Math. I can barely count.)
An apple slice
Crumbs from a granola bar
A granola bar wrapper
My classroom is a mess. Glamour is out and Drudge is in.
Within context this is probably all quite normal, after all, it is a common sight to see rubbish thrown out of car windows; the concept of a rubbish bin is not familiar here.
Yet, even so, I will accept no excuse.
In other grumpy teacher news I recently assigned what I believe to be an excellent project. Simple instruction and such fun to put together. Look how easy:
The assignment is to build a Poetry Book.
1.Take 3 poems written by you ( the student).
2.1 poem by a famous poet ( suggestions neatly given with web sites.)
3.Write an analysis of this poem . ( Following instructions given through many lessons taught on how to do this.)
4.Illustrate all 4 poems with appropriate images.
5.Design a cover page.
I cannot tell you how many students messed this up. No cover page, only 2 poems, no famous poet, bla bla and more bla.
I do despair. But I plod on.