by Phillip Done
When she lowered her brows, Stephen said, “I did it.”
“What?” asked Amy.
“My homework,” he said.
“I don’t want your homework.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?” Stephen asked.
“I want you to put the rubber band away,” said Amy.
He put it away. Amy looked over at me. She looked sad.
I stood up and walked over to her.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “You’ll get it. Like I said, it takes years of practice.”
Off with a Bang
I have a good friend named Troy. He is not a teacher. Troy works in a cubicle and types on his computer. Troy sits in a grown-up chair that is padded and has wheels. He does not have a ball box. He eats his lunch in a restaurant. Every once in a while Troy likes to tease me that my job is cushy.
“You get so much time off,” he always says. “Two and a half months in the summer. Two weeks at Christmas. Spring break.”
“Yes,” I reply. “That’s true. But teachers need time to recharge.”
“Recharge?” he asked. “For what?”
I stared at him.
“For what?” I screamed. “Listen, you make a list of everything you do at work in one day. No, for one hour. And I’ll make a list of everything I do in an hour, and we’ll compare. OK?”
He agreed. So the next day, I began to record everything that happened in class. I started taking notes at 8:30 just as the kids walked in. Here’s what I wrote:
Ryan told me he had to leave early for a dentist appointment, Matthew asked to use the bathroom, I started taking attendance, Ronny handed me a note from his mom, Aaron told me about his sleepover, and Michael asked what was for lunch.
Katie ran in late, Kevin gave me a picture he drew of Spider-Man, Peter said he didn’t feel good, Aaron asked to borrow lunch money, Amanda asked me how to spell octopus, Natalie showed me her new Girl Scout patch, I picked up a glove off the floor, Kenny showed me how he could write “HELLO” on the calculator when you turn it upside down, I ordered three boxes of Girl Scout cookies from Melissa, and Melanie ran in with a frog.
Everyone ran over to Melanie, Tomoya asked to get a drink, I felt Peter’s forehead, Ji Soo made fun of Katie’s new haircut, I began collecting their homework, Joshua asked if I’d seen his sweater, I handed Aaron a dollar for lunch, Matthew wanted me to read his story, and I taped Spider-Man on the file cabinet.
Katie started crying, I sent Peter to the nurse, Joshua went to the lost and found to find his sweater, I refilled the tape dispenser and finished taking roll, Amanda announced that her dad is mad at her mom for leaving the car lights on, I pretended to read Matthew’s story, Ji Soo apologized to Katie, I told Matthew his story was wonderful, and Ryan told me it was time for him to leave for the dentist.
I stopped writing at 8:47.
Later I showed Troy my list. He showed me his. Between 8:30 and 8:47, he waited at the coffee machine for his latte.
I’m not complaining. Really. I like frogs. I like Spider-Man. I like Girl Scout cookies.
There are those days, however, when I just don’t want to stare at braces or look at new pierced ears or pick up sunflower shells. There are days when I just do not want to button up thirty-two raincoats and put on thirty-two pairs of gloves and hats and snow boots and then take them all off ten minutes later when the kids come back in from recess.
On these days I know it is time for me to go see my doctor. His name is Dr. Green. He is a miracle worker. One day with Dr. Green, and I’m back to my old self—ready for showbiz.
Oh, and if Dr. Green is unavailable, I schedule an appointment with one of his colleagues. Their names are Dr. Pool and Dr. Beach.
Interview Questions
The other day I was thinking about the time when I interviewed for my very first teaching job. It’s hard to believe that it has been twenty years.
I can still remember my first interview questions: What is your philosophy of education? What is your classroom management system? What is your discipline plan?
God if I knew.
This was my first interview. How in the world was I supposed to have an educational philosophy? I didn’t even know what that meant.
So I made up my answers and tried to sound like I knew something. I guess I fooled them pretty well. I got the job, and they haven’t fired me yet.
I still remember my responses to those first interview questions too. Boy, would my answers be different today, if I were asked those same questions.
Here’s what I said then and what I’d say now:
If I walked into your classroom, what would I see?
You would see children working collaboratively in peace and harmony, praising each other, and sharing their supplies happily with one another. You would see children thinking critically, helping their classmates, and encouraging one another.
You’d see Brian hiding the soccer ball between his feet, Peter connecting markers together to make a really long one, and me looking for my coffee mug.
What are your strengths?
I’m energetic and enthusiastic and extremely hardworking.
I can pull off a Band-Aid so it won’t hurt.
What are your weaknesses?
I need to learn to not work so late at night and on the weekends and on all my holidays too.
I steal apples off kids’ cafeteria trays when I’m hungry.
What is your philosophy of discipline?
I believe in giving children lots of positive reinforcement, and praising and encouraging students throughout the day, always working to build their self-esteem.
Take away recess.
What would you do with a difficult parent?
I would call the parent and listen to her suggestions. I would work closely with her because we are a team, working together for the success of the child.
Say, “Get a life.”
What would you do if a child threw a chair at you across the room?
First I would make sure that all the other children are safe. Then I would try to calm the student down. Next I would talk with the student and try to figure out what was bothering him, and help him explore his feelings. Together we would set up a behavior modification contract in which I would allow the child to set his own goals and choose his own rewards.
Throw it back.
What is a teacher’s most important tool?
Love.
Candy.
What would your PE program look like?
Children would have the opportunity to develop multiple skills through a variety of individual and team sports where good sportsmanship is emphasized in a noncompetitive environment.
Heads up seven-up.
How would you meet the individual differences of your students?
I believe in giving students a variety of choices. For example, when the children are practicing their spelling, the more visual child could draw pictures of her spelling words with different colored pens. The more kinesthetic child could write his words in sand or Jell-O pudding or ketchup or shaving cream.
I believe in giving students a variety of choices. You can do your spelling now or you can do it at lunch.
What is your view of constructivist education?
I think it is great. I think it is fantastic. I believe in it wholeheartedly. Is there any other way to teach?
What the hell is that?
Where do you see yourself in five years?
Teaching at your school and working toward a masters in education and participating in curriculum review and leadership training, and organizing the school’s fund-raisers and selling wrapping paper for the band.
Under an oak tree in Heavenly Gardens.
Why should we hire you?
I like kids.
I like kids.
A Cultural Experience
Every December our school participates in Arts in Education Week. The county pays for students to attend various cultural events. Thi
s year I signed up to take my kids to see The Nutcracker at the civic center. Most of my students had never seen a ballet before. It would be a wonderful cultural experience for all of them.
And this trip would be extra special for my class because my friend, Tim, was performing in the ballet. Tim invited us all to come backstage after the performance.
Before we left, I gave speech 237.
“Got it?” I asked everyone.
“Got it!” they all answered in unison.
I assigned the kids to their cars, passed out maps to the mom drivers, and made sure Stephen went to the bathroom.
Soon we all piled into the cars and we were off.
I overheard Stephen and Ronny talking in the back seat.
“How come we’re always in Mr. Done’s car?” Stephen asked.
“’Cause we’re his favorites,” Ronny said.
I smiled.
About twenty songs and thirty-seven games of Find the Out-of-State License Plate later, we arrived at the theater. Hundreds of students from all over the county were there to see the ballet. We had great seats—fifth row orchestra.
If you’ve ever seen The Nutcracker, you remember the part of Mother Ginger. Mother Ginger wears an enormous hoop skirt. She walks out, lifts up her apron, and out skip dozens of little gingerbread children. When I was growing up, this was always one of my favorite parts.
Because of the weight of her skirt, the part of Mother Ginger is traditionally played by a man. And today Tim was playing the part of Mother Ginger.
My students sat enthralled through the whole performance. About halfway through the ballet, Tim walked out wearing the enormous skirt and a high, funny wig.
He walked around the stage, lifted up his apron, and out ran a dozen or more gingerbread children. They all ran around the skirt a couple of times and Tim lifted his apron once again. A few of the children hesitated before scurrying under the apron. It looked as if some did not want to go back inside.
After the performance, we all went backstage to see Tim. The kids were excited to meet Mother Ginger. I asked Tim if something went wrong with the gingerbread children.
“Oh, you noticed, huh?” He laughed.
Then he explained what had happened.
Apparently the cute little gingerbread children had been horrid little gingerbread children during rehearsal. Throughout the rehearsals, they had pulled the hair on Tim’s legs, hit him, kicked him, stomped on his feet, and pinched him. One little ginger-bread boy had even bit him. He told them over and over to stop, but they continued to brutalize him through the entire rehearsal run. And of course he couldn’t do anything about it, because once the costume was on, he couldn’t see them.
Well, finally Tim had had enough. So he decided to get back at them in that day’s performance. Before the show, he ate three big bowls of chili. As soon as all the kids were under the apron and Tim was out on stage, he let go.
“They were trapped!” Tim laughed. “They could not escape till I lifted up the apron.”
The kids all laughed.
“Thank you for telling us that story, Tim,” I said sarcastically. “You want to ride back to school with these kids as they reenact the Mother Ginger scene?”
He laughed.
We all said good-bye to Tim, and as I expected, I spent the rest of the afternoon back at school telling Anthony and Carlos to stop making Mother Ginger noises with their hands under their armpits.
Actually, I was a bit worried to send the kids home that day. I could just hear the conversations around the dinner table that night.
“How was your visit to The Nutcracker, dear?” Anthony’s mom would surely ask.
“Great!”
“What was your favorite part?”
“The part when Mother Ginger farted!”
So much for a wonderful cultural experience.
Sugar Cookies
Guess who tore his kitchen apart this morning trying to find cookie cutters because today he was going to make sugar cookies with his students.
Guess who got all the way to school before he realized that he left the cookie cutters on the kitchen counter—along with the sugar and the butter and the eggs and the mixing bowl—and had to drive back home.
Guess which road was getting all its power lines fixed and all its traffic lights repaired and all its crosswalks painted and all its lanes widened this morning.
Guess who baked two frying pans in the staff room oven because he forgot to check the inside when he preheated it.
Guess whose student brought in a fancy new portable mixer for cookie making and lifted it out of the bowl while the beaters were still spinning at full speed.
Guess who couldn’t find the off switch on his student’s fancy new portable mixer.
Guess who was covered in cookie dough when the principal walked in.
Guess how many kids were running around the room trying to get away from the new fancy portable mixer when the principal introduced the new board members.
Guess what the first word was that the new board members heard out of the teacher’s mouth.
ER
The other day I walked out to the front of the school and checked the sign on the front of the building. It said, “School.” I guess I really was in the right place. I thought maybe I had driven to the hospital by mistake.
You see, by the end of the day, I had held two bloody noses, wrapped a popsicle stick under a swollen finger, taken out a splinter, examined a bee sting, confiscated a pair of crutches, sent a kid home with a tummy ache, put on two Band-Aids, tightened an Ace bandage, signed a cast, and cleaned up after Ronny stabbed the ice pack with his scissors to see what was inside.
And that wasn’t all. At the end of lunch, I saw Patrick sitting in the office. I walked over to him and put my hand on his head.
“Hey, Patrick. What’s wrong?” I asked.
He looked up at me.
“I have to go home,” he said.
“Why?” I asked.
“I have head lice.”
I ran to the bathroom.
Some kids are accidents waiting to happen. Take James, for example. James is not allowed to change Penelope’s water. In fact, James is not allowed near the sink. I don’t know why, but for some reason James likes to stick his finger up the faucet. About once a month I have to call the custodian and have him come down and grease James’s finger. Once we couldn’t get his finger out, so we sent him home with the faucet.
Kevin is on prepaid lunch. Actually, he is not allowed to have any more money at school. Kevin likes to stick coins up his nose. I’ve become pretty good at dislodging the coins. Dimes and pennies are a cinch. Nickels are a bit more difficult. Once, though, we had to take Kevin to the hospital. He had found a quarter.
Winter is a busy season here at school. This December Emily came running into my classroom at lunch screaming, “Mr. Done! Mr. Done!”
“What’s wrong, Emily?” I asked.
“Justin’s stuck.”
“Where is he?”
“On the monkey bars,” she said. “Hurry!”
I walked to the staff room, got some hot water, and walked out to the blacktop.
“OK, everyone,” I shouted. “Move aside.”
There was Justin, stuck to the monkey bars again.
“Justin, how many times have I told you not to lick the monkey bars?” I asked.
“Ji Thoo ma-me,” he said.
So I gave Speech 38: “And if Stephen told you to jump off a bridge, would you do that too?”
Last month Brian was playing on the monkey bars and fell off. He hurt his arm. It didn’t look too bad, but we decided it was probably a good idea to have a doctor look at it. We tried to call Brian’s parents, but couldn’t get ahold of them. So Cathy covered my class and I drove Brian to the doctor’s. I stayed in the waiting room while the doctor examined his arm. All of a sudden, Brian started screaming.
Gosh, I thought to myself, it’s worse than I thought. In a couple of minute
s, the doctor came out to the waiting room. I stood up.
“I didn’t realize it was that bad,” I said to the doctor. “I’m glad we brought him in.”
“Oh, he’ll be fine,” said the doctor. “It’s not broken.”
“It’s not broken? But it sounded awful. Why was he screaming so much?” I asked.
“Oh, we had to cut his Tommy Hilfiger shirt.”
The Christmas Concert
I’ll admit it. I get choked up at Christmas concerts … I mean holiday concerts … I mean winter concerts … I mean solstice celebrations. What are we calling them these days?
Seeing my kids in outgrown suits and new party dresses and clip-on ties and white tights and green turtlenecks and little red vests always gets me. There is something truly magical about seeing hundreds of children standing on risers looking for their moms while singing Christmas carols in dress-up clothes to a full auditorium in December.
Our holiday concerts are always packed with moms and strollers, and dads and video cameras. There is always a steady stream of camera flashes. And every year the beginning band runs away with “Jingle Bells,” and Mrs. Fisher tries to catch them. The band always wins.
This year after my group of kids sang, my job was to keep the strollers and the tripods and the little brothers and sisters out of the aisles so Justin could make his entrance at the end of the concert and say, “Ho! Ho! Ho!” Before he came on, I broke up three relay races, confiscated two paper airplanes, and caught a two-year-old just before he jumped up on stage and joined the choir.
The little boy next to me was standing on his mom’s lap and talking through the whole concert. I looked over a few times and hoped that the mom would take her child outside. She didn’t. Finally I got up and stood in the back. I thought to myself, Times have changed. My mom would have taken me outside immediately if I were making a lot of noise. She spent many a Sunday listening to the church service from the crying room.