Week Twenty: January 8th to January 14th

So this afternoon I had a little adventure. One of my students came back from lunch saying that he had a bloody nose. I looked and it wasn’t bleeding at the moment, so I told him that he should continue the presentation of the reader’s theater that his group had started before leaving for lunch break. He got up there with the others and I gave him a tissue to dab at his nose with. About three minutes into their reading, however, Joel was leaning far forward, and holding his script in front of his face. I looked and there was blood all over his hands, face, chair, and coming down onto the floor. Immediately someone else was assigned to read in his place and I dismissed him to go quickly to the bathroom. There was blood on the door handle and I didn’t see it as he was coming back, so I opened the door to let him in. I got it all over my hand and, since I don’t do very well with blood, I started to get a little queasy and light headed. I keep sterilizing cleaning wipes in my room, so as other groups performed, I wiped off my hand, the door, the chair, and everything else. My student told me that someone had kicked ice in his face while he was outside during lunch and a chunk of ice hit him and caused his nose to begin bleeding. I had him wait for me after class and then walked him into the office to talk to the administration about the incident and find out who the individual was who kicked up the ice. Even though it was just a small thing, I was relieved that I could just pass the problem on for someone else to handle. In the meantime, I went back to my room and ate a lot of sugar to keep my head from spinning any longer. I don’t know what I’d do if there was ever a real emergency of some kind!

At any rate, I’m glad that the term is almost over. I called several parents last night to let them know if their kids had not turned in projects or were failing my class. I hate calling parents—hate it, hate it, HATE it! They were all nice… it’s just that I simply don’t like making that awful phone call home. And today I met with another parent as well as two other weeping students that were begging and pleading for better grades. I didn’t give it to them. Instead, I gave them a lecture about turning in quality work on time. When they put things off until the last minute, they must accept the consequences. I’m pretty sure they didn’t enjoy hearing that, but it’s the truth and I wouldn’t be doing my job if I let them go on believing that life is any different. Also, one of my students tried to turn in a project today and pass of a pencil drawing that a five-year-old might have drawn as their final work. I pulled him aside and asked him how long it took him to work on the drawing and he told me it took all night, and he just isn’t good at drawing. I’ve seen his artistic abilities before… usually all over his desk. I know he can draw. It was the sloppiest work I’ve ever seen and there’s no way I can believe him. So I read the project instructions to him again that say specifically that if drawing is not their strong point, they should choose a different project. I gave him one more day to turn in something worthy of a grade and refused to give credit for the “work” he turned in. I’m keeping the picture in a file, and if his parents confront me about why I didn’t accept his work, I’ll gladly show it to them. Strangely enough, while at the beginning of the year these kids might have been able to sway me with tears or at least make me feel guilty, today I don’t feel bad in any way or form. I feel like I did my job.