Regular readers will note that it’s been a week for second tries. Both of these items had solid first tries, so the second was bound to be good also.
About six weeks have passed since the last Auction in my class, and today was a minimum day for the end of the Trimester, so it was about time.
I began the day with hype. I teach in the portables, so if I make noise, 200 students can wonder, “What’s going on in Vaudrey’s class?” Dragging a 10-watt guitar amp outside, I plugged in my iPod and danced to some upbeat songs (mostly from Five Iron Frenzy, a late-90’s ska band). Also, I was wearing the cowboy hat, which signifies auction day.
You should probably have this music video playing while you read the rest of the post, if you really want to get the idea.
Column A, you can see the items up for bid.
Column E is what each of the items cost me out of pocket.
My second and third-biggest readers are Canada and the Phillipines, respectively. Canucks and Pinoys, I included a column for the cost in your local currency, color-coded by your country flag.
Row 16 shows totals. I was floored to see that my fourth period spent 1,000 chips in 40 minutes.
Here are a couple of highlights:
For the Potty Passes, bidding started at 2. Brian, still hyped from the Subway bidding war, immediately blurted out “58! … no, wait!”
Bidding for Nerds (Medium candy) started at 5. The next three bids were 91, 100, and 120. The hot ticket items are never what I expect.
I spent $30 and bought good behavior for 8 weeks. That works out to about $150 for a year. Not so bad. Read the previous post for why I am okay with doing that.
Also, the RSP teacher pitched in (because she’s great, not because her students contribute to a lot of the distractions), so it only cost $10 this time.
What I Changed For This Auction
Items that didn’t draw any bids last time were removed. The big ticket items returned, and I took a page from Dave Burgess‘ playbook on suspense and mystery with the Box of Mystery and Diapers.
What did you THINK I meant?
Students all received a small slip of paper with a list of auction items on it. On that list, if I had included “Box of a bunch of junk from my Aunt-in-law’s basement that we acquired when she moved”, that might not have been a big seller.
But oh, how mystery tickles the mind and arouses the senses! Suddenly, the kids just had to know…
… what’s in the Mystery Box?
Any of those items individually would have drawn no bids at all. Put them in an old cardboard box, and suddenly it’s gold.
And oh, did I ham it up. “You too, students, can tempt fate with a peek inside the Box of Mystery and Diapers! Could it be… a dictionary? Could it be… an inflatable fish? Could it be… a diaper? Only you, the adventurer of secrecy will peek inside the mouth of the lion, tempt fate, and emerge victorious!”
This morning, I re-read the previous post about the auction, so I was picky about noise they made between each item. I wrote up a List of Today’s Auction Items with Descriptions, and announced them while the showcase song from Price is Right was playing. It was magical.
The chatter between items was helped by my descriptions; students wanted to hear them, so all I had to do was start speaking, stop, and look at the offender. The rest of the class jumped on the chatterbox like he was an autographed OneDirection poster.
As with many class activities, the hard work before kickoff made the classtime itself really stinkin fun. I love my job. I get to listen to music from High School and lecture students (with a smile) about the evils of caffeine and processed sugar, all while wearing a cowboy hat.
I added that last line to the slide because I had 4 or 5 students who finished the Daily Doozy and proclaim, “That wasB easy!” I reminded them that it probably isn’t easy forB allB the students. Instead, they can proclaim, “My, what an appropriate challenge!”
I do declare!
UPDATE 17 April 2013: Per Dan’s request, hereB are a few more.
As any math teacher will tell you, there are very few “normal” days, so I’ll just pick a day. I rolled a die and came up with a five, so Ib ll write about last Friday.
6:08 AM Alarm goes off. It beeps exactly once before my wife elbows me and hisses, b get it!b . Our eight-week-old baby just finished feeding at 5:30, and my dear little wife is not about to sacrifice a sleeping baby so a husband can snooze.
One of these things is cute, and one needs to get the hell out of bed.
6:45 AM Ib m fed, dressed, and packed. My wife packed my lunch the night before (and she has packed 98% of my lunches to date. Sorry, fellas; I got the best wife.), so I grab it from the fridge, kiss my two girls on their sleeping heads, and Ib m off.
7:12 AM My drive to work is 36 minutes door-to-door, so I have time to listen to NPR, Sigur RE
s, or stand-up comedy (which I usually save for the drive home).
7:30 AM Itb s the Friday before Thanksgiving. I graded all of yesterdayb s tests, and the only two items on our class agenda are Notebook Check and Test Corrections. I take the rubrics off my printer and head down to P-13 to borrow the paper-trimmer from Hodge.
NON-TEACHER NOTE: Students wonb t see my class for nine days. If I assign homework, it wonb t get done. So I have to pick something that can be started in class, completed over the break if the students are really motivated, and optional. Enter the Test Corrections.
If my life were a movie, it would be called “Enter the Test Corrections”.
7:52 AM With 20 minutes before students arrive, I organize my desk. If my desk is unorganized, I feel like my life is unorganized. I stack papers, file them, and start a Break To-Do List. It quickly grows to 12 items.
8:01 AM I have a small guitar amp and an iPod connector. On test days, the day before break, or other exciting days, I play tunes outside my portable. Because the math teachers are all in a row, I play Eye of the Tiger or The Final Countdown on days that we test. It helps take the edge off and, frankly, itb s frigginb fun to dance and rap wearing my test day shirt.
8:10 AM The bell rings and I step outside to shake the hands of students as Flobotsb b Handlebarsb bumps through 15 watts as bleary-eyed students amble toward the gray doors of our classrooms. My phone rings and four 8th graders yell anxiously, b Can I get it?b I nod to the closest one and keep shaking hands and rapping.
Look at me, look at me;
just called to say that itb s good to be
alive in such a small world.
All curled up with a book to read.
I ask the phone student to have Mr. Garrett call back later. Maybe he wants to borrow the video camera again.
I can show you how to do-si-do,
I can show you how to scratch a record.
I can take apart a remote control,
and I can almost put it back together.
8:20 AM The announcements are over and I turn my b Fill out your planner and start the warm-upb music back on. Consistent procedures breed good behavior, and the first 20 minutes of my class are the same every day.
I announce as they work, b Get moving, we have the 7th graders coming today.b The class moans.
I stand up straight with a huge smile. b Letb s try that again, but with a positive attitude: The seventh graders are coming today!b About twelve students cheer and the rest grumble quietly. My class culture is happy, you unenthusiastic turds. Get used to it.
8:23 AM The timer beeps and students begin presenting the warm-up to the class. My computer is still updating.
8:26 AM Time for b Good Thingsb , where students share b good thingsb that are going on in their lives. Any good thing will do, but eventually, everyone must share something. In the interest of time (hat tip to Tim Bedley) , I have them share good things with each other first, then pick three names to share with the class.
8:27 AM We finish Good Things just as Jennab s class walks up my ramp. Her 7th grade GATE class has been working with my 8th grade iPad Algebra class to team up on the Stock Market Game.
b Wow, Netflix stock seems to be doing well. What else is a business that is on the rise right now?b
b Ouch, McDonaldb s is down a whole dollar from last week. Do you want to trade for something else?b
b Who else wants a hint? (a few hands wave) Okay, what big products are being released this week? How might those companiesb stocks reflect that?b
A few students blurt out, b Twilight!b or b Black Ops II!b before their group shushes them. It is a nationwide contest, after all. One of my groups is ranked 18 out of 50,000.
“You invested in Blockbuster? Their market share has been in decline for six consecutive quarters!”
9:07 AM After the 7th graders leave, and we move on to Notebook Check. Itb s the usual b swap with a partnerb and b make sure you grade fairlyb , except I gave them a rubric so they canb t mess it up. The rest of the period is spent on test corrections.
9:43 AM Bell rings and I bid them a 9-day farewell. Then I pump up the jams and get ready for period 2.
10:30 AM The next period goes way smoother. It turns out that 90 minutes is plenty of time to run through our usual classroom routine and still do two other things.
10:40 AM In the downtime between passing in the notebook checks and passing out tests, one student stands up behind me. Troy is usually running his mouth, and most often about nothing. Here are a few gems:
Mr. Vaudrey, being a Siamese twin would be great. You could punch somebody coming at you from the side.
Mr. Vaudrey, I had a game this weekend. The coach said that I could play for the high school if I get my grades up.
Mr. Vaudrey, rainbow monkeys are like bootleg CareBears.
This time, however, heb s sticking out his chest and walking towards Lars, who is sitting. Troy is clearly upset, spouting aggressive (but not foul) nonsense:
b You think you so bad, talking crap about me? You think I canb t hear you? I know what you said! You got a problem with me? Do something, then!b
I know that Troy wonb t actually fight Lars, so I calmly direct Troy outside. I have a volunteer collect the rubrics while I ask Lars what happened. He admits that he asked Troy to quit talking so much and Troy got upset.
One of the things I love about my job is helping adolescents see how their actions define them and helping them see their actions through the eyes of other students. When it works, itb s awesome.
Vaudrey: Well, then why isnb t Lars outside, too, if he was saying those things?
Troy: Ohhb & cuz he didnb t stand up and get aggressive.
Truth Bomb.
11:23 AM The class ends and I have lunch. I pass the time planning my week off and add more items to my To-Do list. It grows to 20 items.
12:03 PM Algebra Concepts. Ib ve written about this class before: about the behavior issues, the challenges, and the draining effect it has on me. I have 90 minutes of semi-structured class time, so if this is to go well, I need to be all business and crack down early. So I do.
12:20 PM This is going pretty well! Ericab the RSP teacherb points out that: next time, we should just have them grade their own notebooks instead of swapping with someone across the class.
I donb t care that much. If they cheat, BFD. They stole one percentage point on their grade.
1:09 PM They finished the notebook check and going over the answers to the test. Here are some highlights from the period so far:
Andrew continues to have impulse control and is on the verge of pissing off Ryan so much that heb ll throw a punch. I have Andrew pull a desk outside.
James (much like Lars) knows that he can say quiet things to antagonize Sandra until she gets loud. I have the exact same conversation with Sandra outside that I had with Troy earlier that day, with one difference:
Vaudrey: Why are you outside, but James isnb t?
Sandra: Cuz he be saying stuff about me and Ib m not just gonna sit there and take it.
Vaudrey: I believe you, but why are you outside and heb s not? Am I picking on you?
Sandra: No.
Vaudrey: Am I racist?
Sandra: No.
Vaudrey: Then what is it?
Mia and Sandra want to work on their project together, so I let Sandra change seats to be closer to Mia. Val, a boy sitting nearby, isnb t happy about it.
Sandra: Can I work with Mia? Web re partners on this project.
Vaudrey: Yes, go ahead.
Val: Aw, man. Do I have to stay here? Now, I have to listen to BOTH of b em.
Vaudrey: Turn around so you donb t have to see them.
Sandra: I know he not talkinb to me like that.
Mia: If he say somethinb to me, Ib m finna slap him. Thatb s just how it is.
Vaudrey: Thatb s not okay, but itb s your choice.
1:20 PM Andrew has been working outside for about ten minutes when he pops his head in and cries, b Mr. Vaudrey! Thereb s some graffiti out here! It wasn’t me!b
I stroll outside, re-direct Andrew to sit, and follow his finger, b Look!b . On nameplate for my class it says, P-08 Wheelchair Accessible. Below that, in pencil, somebody wrote, fuck you mr vaudrey along with an arrow pointing to my name that says bitch!.
b It wasnb t me, I swear!b Andrew looks terrified, so I assure him that I recognize his innocence. I return inside to ponder and I mention to Erica what I just noticed.
b Really?!b Her eyes get wide, partly because she didnb t think I would quote it while standing near students. I have no qualms about repeating their foul words in class, partly because I like how silly they sound when I repeat exactly what they say. b Do you know who it was?b she asks.
b Meh. I have a theory (Sandra is the only one whob s been outside for discipline this period), but it doesnb t matter. Itb s more that Ib m sad for them; that they have such anger in their heart.b
I say this loud enough for several students nearby to hear. One of them is Ryan. Remember him? The one who screamed, b I hate you!b a month ago? He was sitting nearby for my exchange with Erica.
Ryan stood up and walked directly outside. Andrew was very quick to volunteer his authority on the issue. b See, Ryan? Itb s right there. I didnb t write it, though. I just found it.b
Ryan, without a word, begins furiously erasing.
b Ryan,b I say gently. b You donb t have to do that.b He continues erasing until the words are gone, then until the smudges are gone, then until my nameplate is good as new.
b Thank you, Ryan.b I say softly. Without a word, he returns to his seat with Erica just as the clean-up song plays over my sound system. The class runs through the 11-times-table and the bell rings.
1:54 PM I call a studentsb mom to see when she will come retrieve his iPad (which was confiscated as he played games in class). Turns out, sheb s coming for a conference.
2:40 PM Conferences for middle-school boys are pretty similar. They go in this order:
Explain in detail each assignment the boy hasnb t done.
Explain in detail an example of his bad behavior.
Pause for the parent to explain how important it is for the boy to do well in school
Make a plan of action with some consequence.
3:10 PM I excuse myself to go unlock the iPad cart for students after PE. As I leave, the team begins to discuss the idea of this studentb s removal from the iPad class if he canb t pull his grades up.
3:18 PM All the iPads are gone and students are fleeing the campus for the Thanksgiving break.
4:10 PM I arrive home to a squirming baby and a wife who is happy to hand her off for a few minutes. We forage from the fridge, and bounce the baby. After watching three episodes of Boy Meets World and talking about our respective days, we put the baby down for the night.
7:47 PM The wife and I play Tetris. Itb s been five years of marriage and 8 years of dating, and we still play Tetris together. The main difference is that now we have to whisper trash talk so we wonb t wake the baby.
I first met Kelli during the first month of my first year teaching.
Well, I donb t actually recall the day that I met her. My first two weeks of teaching were such a whirlwind–the details meld together into a trauma of botched activities, stuttering lessons, clunky worksheets, and the occasional discipline issue (which soon became frequent discipline issues).
I do, however, remember when I first saw Kellib s fifth period. My Assistant Principalb after watching the vehicular collision that was my fifth periodb said, b You have to watch Kelli teach.b
The next day during my planning period, I followed A.P. into the back of Kellib s class with my notebook, completely clueless for what I would write down.
I wish I had videotaped itb it was pure poetry. Like watching Olympic figure skating.
First, the students filed in with subdued murmurs and sat down quietly. I had seen these students during lunchb they were not quiet people. Kelli taught Algebra Readiness, an 8th grade class for students who didnb t pass Pre-Algebra last year. A rough-and-rowdy bunch of surly teens with odors and attitudes sour enough to curdle the milk in your grammab s teacup. It wasnb t even my class, and I got nervous.
“Miss Webb, I don’t got a pencil.”
b Please take out your packet and turn to S.P. 15.b Kelli calmly intoned over the rustle of paper. The bell had just sounded and all her students were in their seats, most with their pencils out. I looked around the room and thought I was dreaming:
Her 18 students were evenly spread throughout the room, most of them alone at a table.
All the hats were off.
Nobody touched each other.
No backpacks or purses were in laps, all rested on the floor or the chair next to them.
Most of the students had their packets out and were hunched over them, silently working.
Kelli began to weave through the rows, giving little comments.
b Thank you for getting started, Jamal.b
b Good start, Maria. Put your mirror away, please.b
And this was when I knew I was in the presence of greatness:
b Miguel, please spit out your gum.b
Miguel curled his lip, b I donb t have any gum.b
b Let me tell you what I donb t do.b Kelli bristled, straightening to her full six-foot-two and narrowing her eyes. b I donb t argue with children. Spit it out.b
I’m surprised Miguel didn’t piss himself. I got chills just writing that.
Miguel paused, considering his chances of winning a battle with a woman twice his size and thrice his age. He wisely stood and leaned over the trashcan as Kelli moved on to other tables. The thunk of his gum in the metal wastebasket was the only noise in room A5, save for the delicate scratch of pencil on paper.
After about five minutes, Kelli produced some more magic. She went through the worksheet with the class.
Now, any teacher can walk through problems, but nobody in Ms. Webbb s class got bored. She pulled names from a cup of popsicle sticks (what teachers called b random samplingb in those days) and asked students for their responses.
Ms. Webb: Ysela, number 5.
Ysela: Ummb & I didnb t get it.
Ms. Webb: Okay, what do you think we should do first?
Ysela: Ummb &. Take away seven?
Ms. Webb: (grimaces) Ooh! Is there a mathematical way to say that?
Ysela: Ummb &Subtract seven from both sides of the equation.
Ms Webb: Oh, much better. I like that. Damon, take over number 5.
It was magical. She coaxed answers from students who hate math (or so they tell their friends). These students have made a career out of coasting and doing nothing, but they have nowhere to hide from the watchful eye of Ms. Webb.
And risk.
No… not that one.
Non-teachers may not realize this, but Ysela was hoping to be ignored, skipped, and left at peace. Getting students like Ysela to take a stab at a foreign problem is hard work. By eighth grade, she’s learned that the three magic words “I don’t know” will get her skipped in most other classes, and enough skips will get her ignored entirely.
In Ms. Webbb s class, there was no ignored seat, no back of the class, no hats pulled down, and no students get to pass on a problem. If you donb t know, take a guess.
Itb s one of several things that Ib ve stolen for my own class.
Ever heard of the John Muir Trail? That (and my wife’s mission trip with her youth group) isB where I’ve been for the last month. Some people have complained, and they need to lighten up.
Mario: “I think [this class] is fair because everyones idea is respected.”
Deja: “It’s fun and I can’t wait to get to this class.”
Sara: “Mr. V grades fairly but is too nice with giving good grades, (not that that’s a bad thing).”
Jose: “I’m fine with my grade because I know I didn’t try my hardest.”
These are the kind of student responses that help me form my class for the next year. I read each one, every year.
The prompt goes something like this:
“Gentlemen and Ladies, you are going to grade me [pause for incredulous exclamations]. I want to know how to be a better teacher, so you’re going to grade me honestly. And don’t spare my feelings. You must fill out the whole thing.
You don’t need to put your name at the top–it can be anonymous if you want. I will read every one of these. Also, if you give me all As or all Fs, I’ll know that you didn’t care and I’ll burn it…laughing while I do.”
As with anything I field a few space-head questions (“Do I put my name on it?” “Can I give you all A’s?”) then turn them loose.
I change up the questions every year, (the 2012 download is at the bottom of this page) and this year, I used a whole back page for short-response questions.
Itb s one last chance for me to squeeze some clarity into their year.I get authentic, unfiltered assessment straight from the horseb s mouth.Sometimes itb s cute and flatteringb &…sometimes it’s sarcastic, but well-mannered*…b &sometimes itb s legitimate great feedback, andb &…occasionally it’s cringeworthy–but necessary–feedback.Also, they’re teenagers. The ones that say I’m not fair are often the ones that got in trouble that week.
I figured this question was a good way to get a quick two-sentence summary, and Ib ve learned a lot about how students view the b themeb of my class.
*The “test-day shirt” to which Sara refers is this one, shown here on Crazy Hat Spirit Day (with a student drawing of me wearing it). I wear the Test Shirt every test day (including all 5 State-test days) as a way to lighten the mood for students with test anxiety.
UPDATE 13 July 2012:
Andy‘s right; I should mention what I learned from this experience.
In previous years, I’ve noticed startling trends in theB fairness category. I would consistent low marks when it came to “treating all students the same” or “giving consistent expectations”.B Fortunately, I know the students’ penmanships well enough to ask the class as a whole for further feedback. Some of those chats went like this:
Vaudrey: A lot of people marked me low for fairness. Why do you think that is?
(This is about June–most of them are checked out. Or they know me well enough to know that tactfully, respectful criticism will be well-received)
Maria: Well, sometimes you treat certain students with more second chances.
Jose: Yeah, like when I got detention for talking during the test, but Jamal talks all the time. (Several students nod).
Vaudrey: You’re right; that doesn’t sound fair. Anything else?
If I prove that I won’t get butt-hurt by student feedback, then the class gets a little more bold in their assessments.
Sarah: Sometimes, your morning breath is really bad.
Drew: Yeah, like dog crap.
Vaudrey: Whoa! We’re getting a little carried away. Sarah, thanks for your honesty. Drew, keep in mind that we’re focusing on improving my class, okay? Anybody else?
In full disclosure, here’s what I learned from this year’s reports:
Middle school students have much less to bitch about than high school students.
About 15-20% of students would like more explanation on tough topics. Nobody said my teaching pace was too slow.
Most of the students liked my class. A few studentsB really liked my class. That felt good.
I’m doing a better job of treating all students fairly. (That sample conversation was from a few years back.)
For next year, I should teach more closely to the standards, so students see common questions beforeB the test.
For next year, I should keep the class under tighter control. In recent years, I’ve slacked on classroom management because I taught seniors. Eighth graders need a little heavier hand.
In my job, I banter with students quite a bit. I record a lot of their chatter on my computer–it makes for good writing later.
Avery: None of the solutions work!
Vaudrey: You have to show your work on paper. Paper is smarter than your brain.
Daniel: Nuh-uh! Paper is made out of trees and trees arenb t smart.
Vaudrey: I know that, I mean your brain is smarter on paper.
Victor: Your brain canb t get out of your body or you die.
Mark: Mr. Vaudrey, I heard about this guy on the History channel who ran, um, from San something all the way to LA without stopping. It was like three marathons in a row.
Nymnh: Duh, itb s called Forrest Gump.
Vaudrey: Forrest Gump is a fictional story.
Nymnh: No! Then why is there Bubba Gump Shrimp Company?
This particular short post isn’t about those, however. On Wednesday (before Nancy’s Christmas gift on Friday), Jasmine came into my class and said, “I brought the shirt!”
Now before you write angry comments about what a terrible person I am, there is a backstory:
In my class of Honors students, I permit a little more time for non-math chatter because the actual math doesn’t take them as long as the other classes. I permit some chatter in all my classes because I want students on my side. One day in the Honors class went like this:
Vaudrey: Good morning, first period. This is as loud as I can talk, so go easy on me today.
Student 1: What’s wrong?
Vaudrey: Eh, I’m just a little sick.
Student 2: You should stay home!
Vaudrey: I could, but it’s easier just to come in. Besides, who would teach the class?
Student 3: I would!
Student 2: When we’re sick, we stay home.
Vaudrey: Well… I’m more important than you.
This, of course, was met with rolling in the aisles and several rounds of “Aw, naw!” We all had a little chuckle and Jasmine’s shrill voice rang out.
Jasmine: I’m gonna put that on a T-shirt!
Several more guffaws and rounds of “I’ll buy that shirt!” and the class went on to discuss the addition of polynomials.
Well, a few weeks later, I got a homemade Christmas present that I wore proudly all day.
Here’s the front of it.
Obviously, I explained the shirt to every teacher, student, and staffer that saw it. As a stand-alone article, I probably won’t wear it to the mall or anything, but as a student gift, it’s fabulous.
And if she thought I meant what i said, she wouldn’t have made the shirt.
Ib m dazed. Feel like Ib m dehydrated, but I know Ib m not. My mouth is dry and my tongue has the bitter taste that one gets before throwing up. I had to pull over in Etiwanda to have an emergency bathroom break and my stomach continues to curdle.
All this after four years of teaching, the first day of year fiveb year fiveb in the classroom, and 25 thirteen-year-olds still make me nervous on the first day of school.
And this morning felt like I was force-feeding myself. Every bite of granola I had to wash down with apple juice.
Since I was a kid, Ib ve gotten anxious before big events. I can recall having to pull over on the way to the city-wide 12K when I was in middle school. Recently, when I climbed Mt. San Gorgonio, I had to squat in the snow on the side of highway 38 and wipe with snow.
It was tingly.
I wonder if taking something would make these days easier. Ib d still be anxious, but at least I wouldnb t need to pull over at a Shell station to take care of some business.
And now Ib m about to arrive to work 20 minutes later than I wanted to get there. Itb s not badb I only have a few things left to do that will probably take about five minutes before students arrive. But still, itb s a bit nerve-wracking.
7:42 a.m.
The new job didnb t become real until I arrived on campus and heard the first pre-teen girl hugging her friend and creaming b Omigaaaaaawd! How was your summerrrrrrrr?b
Up until then, I thought Hey, I got offered a new job, I might take it.
Or This job sounds real good, itb s got high pay. Maybe I should check it out.
Itb s now my new job; I work at Mountain View Middle School.
I am Mr. Vaudrey. The math teacher.
4:47 p.m.
This morning, I saw a pack of boys as I walked by, and they gave me b the eyeb .
I used to see b the eyeb when I was a student in middle school, and packs sought to pick on me. It means that the pack is sizing you up for weaknesses, seeing if they can pick on you to make themselves feel better. Even though Ib m now older and smarter and bigger and stronger than they are, I still get the eye because theyb re in a pack and Ib m by myself.
Just after I pass them, I hear one of the pack yell, b Hey, you a teacher?b
And I know the game. I know theyb re looking for a way to bend me around their will, and thus, take some of the power from me, the teacher. So without stopping, I turn slightly and say b Yep.b
b Well, whatb s your name?b Now the whole pack is watching.
I quickly turn around and beckon the vocal student to walk with me. b What?b I beckon again and keep walking.
I know that, if I stop walking, then he is the cause of my stop. It sounds trivial. It sounds like nothingb but then he just made a teacher do something. He was in control, he bent the grown-up to his will.
I can hear him scampering behind me and as I round a corner of a building, he tries again, b Wait! Whatb s your name?b
I wave again and say, b Walk with me.b
He looks back at his friends, looks at me, and says, b Naw, Ib m okay.b And returns to the pack.
I continue to my class and permit myself a smug grin. I won.
What did you THINK I meant?
