Semicolons Are Sexy and Other Findings

Attention, parents!  If there is one thing, just ONE thing you could reinforce with your child at home, it has got to be capitalizing the first word in a sentence and putting a period at the end.  I assume, all of you know why punctuating the written word is important.  However, my students do not.  I read through their work everyday and still....STILL...at 13 years old, we are still not routinely using capital letters, and correct ending punctuation.  It sort of blows me away.

Today, I taught how one would appropriately use a semicolon.  Yes, I'm admitting it here and now, I taught something today that is not explicitly outlined in the Common Core State Standards.  Call me a rebel.  Actually, call me confused.  I constantly feel confused.  I'm lost in a world where on the one hand I see all of these lofty Common Core goals, and on the other hand, I see the students sitting before me, and I know that until I teach some "core" essentials in writing, we cannot move on to bigger and better things.  Hence, the lesson on semicolons.  We have been working on simple sentences (independent clauses), as well as compound sentences.  By the way, just uttering the mere phrases 'independent clause' and 'compound sentence,' sends them into orbit.  You would literally think I was speaking French to them.  The thing is, I know, KNOW they have been taught this stuff before.  This truth revealed itself to me during my lesson today.

As I launched in on the job of the semicolon, I heard giggling and whispers behind me.  "Good Lord, what now?" I was thinking.  I turned around and innocently, and politely, asked what was so funny about the semicolon?  More giggling ensued.  Seriously?  Finally, a brave soul volunteered on behalf of the class, "Semicolons....you know...they're a sexy beast!"  Huh.  Well, I was not expecting that.  (I feel like I'm going to say that a lot this year.)  Unable to see the relation, I asked them to explain where they got the idea that semicolons were a sexy beast.  They simply responded, "Mrs. Fine's class."  Yup, sounds totally normal. (says sarcastic inner-monologue)  Now, you have to know Mrs. Fine to truly appreciate this story, but I guess I just never really pictured her teaching semicolons to the likeness of a "sexy beast."  I had to get to the bottom of this.  Right away, I emailed her.

"Hey Liz,  quick question...I was just reviewing semicolon usage with my students and the kids were quite excited about the "SEXY BEAST SEMICOLON!" They referred me to you.  I'm oh-so-curious..."

Not too much longer she replied to my message.

"Ahhh the semi-colon!  Classiest punctuation mark in our language, Judy.  If used correctly, it can make anyone's writing incredibly sexy!  Don't you agree???"

Have I mentioned, yet, how much I love the people I work with?  Why, yes, I do agree with Mrs. Fine!  However, I am clearly a little jealous that she came up with this clever bit before I did.  I will say she's had a 'few' more years of practice than I have.  I count myself incredibly fortunate to be able to learn from her talents, wit, and teaching tips.

So, if you learn but one thing today, let it be this:  semicolons ARE sexy!

Free Time Galore

With all of these blogging updates lately, you'd think I had oodles of time to kill. That is absolutely false. I have been working until 8, 9 or 10 o'clock pm each and every night in the last week. Last night, I was up until midnight toying with ideas for the coming week. Granted, this isn't always focused work. There's a lot of research going on behind my lesson plans and I'm really trying hard to link the Common Core to each and everything that happens in my classroom. I'm quickly learning how overwhelming that is becoming, but I'm remaining hopeful that that will pay off. En toto, I've been pretty lame for the last few weeks. Awhile ago, I had posted on Facebook about how wonderful my classroom looked. I realize I'm very humble and modest when it comes to these things. Actually, my pride in my classroom is overwhelming. Dare I say it, I don't even think one thing has been stolen....yet. Anyway, I thought I'd post some pictures so those of you following along can see what I decided to do this year. If any ideas look familiar, it's because you've seen them on Pinterest. Nothing is original here!

Before photo...giant mess.  The picture does not do it justice.

Student Study Center/Materials Center

I have no clue if the computer works.  I should try that soon.

Please try to ignore the fact that I can't center items freehand.  This drives me crazy everyday. 

I have since outlined the words "Be Prepared" and "Be Positive" on the yellow canvases.

The chalkboard painted canvas, used for magnetic poetry, has proved to be popular amongst my language arts classes.  The giant bulletin board will be used to display student work once we get that going.

Period 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6 turn in baskets.  My featured artwork has also proved quite the conversation starter!

My front bulletin board reads: Bks R Lke Rly Lng Txt Msgs.  My students have all claimed they cannot read it.  As if! 

This is the view when you walk in the door. 

Outside of the class.  I have some other ideas of what to do with this space, but I've really lost my desire for decor, at this point in time. 

A special message for my clock watchers.  

That's all there is!  Hope you've enjoyed the tour!  Thanks for stopping by ;o)

The Day Two 7th Graders Went to Fisticuffs

Apparently, I spoke too soon. Friday brought about a day full of reviewing expectations for all 6 periods. By the end of the day, I felt like a crazy person, thinking, "Wait, did I tell you guys this already?" I have a feeling I'll be saying that a lot. Not only that, but throughout the day, as I went through my powerpoint presentation, I couldn't help but think of Mr. Anderson, my dear high school health teacher. How many times did we mock him for literally saying the exact same thing class period after class period? You could walk into first period at 23 after, and walk into fourth period at the same time marker, and he would be saying the exact same sentence. The man was gifted. I don't think my talk was quite that repetitive but some of those poor kids had to sit through it three times on Friday. Youch. We ended the day with an all-school assembly where yours truly was selected to participate in a "What Not To Wear" skit. Luckily, I got to play Stacey from What Not To Wear and I didn't have to model any trashy outfits. Bullet dodged. In the assembly, our student body sits according to homeroom. If you've been keeping up on the blog, you know that my homeroom needs to be constantly monitored. I watched them from afar, for awhile, but then after the hat swapping and disruption, realized I needed to be much closer, and moved to sit on the bottom bleacher of my group. My high fliers were sitting in the very farthest row away from me and I was skeptical of having my back turned to them. As the assembly was winding down, the principal decided our student body needed to practice the quiet signal a few times before they were to be dismissed. It was approximately 2:13 when I watched the principal turn speechless in front of me, her eyes grew large, and were focused on the precise location of where my high-fliers were sitting. I jumped up so fast, and turned around to face them. As I turned, I heard one of my students yell, "Hey! There's a fight up here!" At those words, I busted between students telling them to move out of the way, so I could get to the top bleachers. Yeah, because we all know if there is someone that should respond to a crisis, it's me. I am not even sure where the reaction came from. I think it has to do with all my days in day treatment, that my reaction was almost automatic. When I got to the top, I was conflicted with feelings. At once, I saw blood spatter all over the back bleacher, which made me feel a bit worried. But, then, it dawned on me, not a single one of my high fliers was involved in this! I was dealing with two seventh graders, and one of my students was actually trying to help hold back one of the students. Whew! I grabbed the culprit by the arm, and could feel him violently shaking underneath my arm. I applied pressure with my arm, in hopes that this would calm him. His breath was rapid, and he was so flustered, he couldn't even utter an intelligible comment. We made our way to the bottom of the bleachers, and he was promptly handed off to the assistant principal. Meanwhile, another teacher was with the student with the bloody nose. I'm still not entirely sure what happened, but the witnesses I spoke with, said that the kid who got punched was poking and provoking the boy that eventually hit him. They were all sort of goofing around at the beginning of the assembly, so somewhere along the line, somebody crossed the line. I didn't end up learning what administrative consequences both, or either, of the boys were dealt. I finished up my work and headed to the Hop Valley tasting room. It seemed like the only reasonable way to end the day. Looking forward to the excitement of next week, already!

Week One and Done

Actually, the week isn't technically over. I'm really banking on living through tomorrow to make the title truly accurate. Middle school is something else! Let me tell you what! Our first day of school was really just a half day of school. Since I have only 8th graders, I only had kids from 11:45-2:15. That was pretty sweet. I met my homeroom class that I had been warned about. The rumors circulating about these kids were incredible. I mean, I don't want to make them out to be "angels" but I think there is some potential there. Yes, I realize it is the first week of school. My hopeful meter is on overdrive, for sure. Tuesday and Wednesday consisted of a very strange schedule that no one could really understand, least of all, me. On Tuesday I messed up the schedule so bad, I ended up having my homeroom for two periods in a row. That is not a mistake I will ever make again. Class ended with me saying, "Okay, that was the longest two hours of all time. You don't have to see me, and I don't have to see you for the rest of the day, thank God!" I think they enjoy my sarcasm. I saw some grins and chuckles as they headed out the door. The kids were supposed to be rotating through all the different classrooms to do activities on different topics such as; organization, filling out planners, dress code, respecting authority, etc. After lunch I was out in the hall helping kids figure out which class they needed to get to, when I saw some students milling around outside my classroom. I walked down there and lo and behold, there was the majority of my homeroom. I almost started crying. I went in there and exclaimed, "What are you guys doing here!?" They laughed, but insisted they thought they were supposed to return to homeroom after lunch. I got them to where they needed to be and all was well again. I spoke with several fellow teachers after school about this debacle. In talking with one teacher, I realized that, the behaviors of my homeroom aren't outrageous. They're just...bizarre. It's like, "Hey, you two, quite playing footsie." "You two, stop flirting during my instruction." "Hey don't use that kind of language." "Whoa, where are you going?" It's just like a million little fires going at all times. The worst part is, when you redirect them, they don't feel what they should. I mean, I ask them to quit playing footsie with each other, and I feel embarrassed for them. I feel ashamed for them. I feel upset for them. They don't act like they feel anything. It's like, listen, I can't live your life AND mine. You guys are going to have to bear some of this burden....sheesh....It's exhausting. At the 900th hour of teaching respect to authority, a teeny tiny 6th grader showed up at the gym doors. I asked him where he was supposed to be and clearly he was lost and confused. He said that the choir teacher sent him to the big gym. He didn't quite know how to pronounce his homeroom teachers name, which made it virtually impossible to track down his class. At this point in our conversation, I wasn't quite convinced he even knew his own name, he was so frazzled. I convinced him to walk with me toward the seventh grade wing, and continued to try to ask him clarifying questions about what he had already done in the day, people in his class, etc. In this midst of this conversation, he says, "But, but...but....but...I ordered scrambled eggs for breakfast." This was way out of left field, and I'm not entirely sure how he thought this would be helpful. Luckily, we ran into another student who recognized him, and said, "Hey! He's supposed to be in our class!" Me: Great! Where's your class? Miscellaneous student: "Well it's over now." Me: I'm confused, how can it be over? Where are the rest of your classmates? Misc. student: "They're in class." Me: (thinking: ay yay yay sixth graders!) Okay, well where would that be? Misc. student: "In the classroom." Me: (thinking: seriously?) Which classroom? Misc. student: "It's over, it doesn't matter!" Me: Okay, I get it. But which actual classroom is the rest of your class in? Misc. student: "Oh! The one at the end of the hall." Wow. Clearly, I don't speak 6th grade. On Wednesday, we had the same sort of rotation schedule. You better believe I had my homeroom reporting to the correct place. Of course, today, they teased me, "Do we have to be with you for two periods again!? (insert chorus of whiny voices). I laughed. I'm glad it's mutual. After lunch, again, I was helping kids figure out where they should go, and walked down to grab something out of my classroom and what do you know!? Who is sitting in my class AGAIN!? My homeroom. It cracked me up today, so I said, "You guys are like stinkin' boomerangs! No matter where I sent you, you always come back to me! Ohhhhh so sweet!" Today, they insisted that they are actually told by some staff member to come back to my room after lunch. That is one unkind staff person, that's for sure! At some point, my students were meandering through my room today, and probably one of the most notorious characters in the school, informed me, "Ms. Tacchini you really shouldn't leave your keys in the door of your closet. Something can, and WILL, get stolen. It's just how students are in this school." I surely appreciated the advice, but it also made me pretty suspicious of this particular student. I didn't get around to inventorying my closet. There's not much else in there besides yoga stuff, popsicle sticks, pencils and granola bars. High cost items, for sure. In stark contrast to my surly, tired, 8th graders, I saw mostly 6th and 7th graders. During one of our early morning sessions, my co-teacher came up to me and said, "Um the girl in the pink and black shirt is crying her eyes out. Ready? Go." Okay, so here we go. Surely, I'm the one to send into an emotional crisis. Listen, just because I matriculate from day treatment does not mean I am prepared, in any way, to address tears. I asked her if she wanted to talk to someone; me, the counselor, etc? And, she told me she wanted to talk to me, in private, with her friend. I walked them down to my classroom thinking, obviously something traumatic has happened. In my head, I was trying to mentally prepare myself for what could possibly make someone cry that hard on the third day of school. We get into the classroom and she starts explaining, "Well (sob, sob), you see (gasping for air), some boys in this class told me (choke choke) that my boyfriend said that I am mean to him and stuff." Okay, step one, do not start laughing. I must take this seriously. Step two, ask obvious questions, "Are you mean to your boyfriend?" "Has he ever told you that you are mean to him?" "Is it possible that these boys are making up stories to get you upset?" "When can you talk to your boyfriend?" That last question segued right into, "I don't really like to talk him but I send my friends to go talk to him for me." Okay, well I didn't really have time to delve into all the issues with that logic. I had to cut to the chase. "First of all, sweetheart, if he's talking behind your back, he's not even worth your time." Insert the girl's friend that came with us, "That's what my mom always says." My inside thought says, "YES! I'm on the right track. If mom's say it, it must be true..." I continue, "Second of all, just talk to him, or have your friends do it. You don't know what the truth is. You're going to have to do a little investigation and figure this out. But, right now, is not the time to freak out because we just don't know yet." She sucked it up and said she would be okay and she'd like to go back to class after she washed her face. I sent the girls on their way. Less than two hours later, I see the same girl, as she comes bounding towards me, a huge smile on her face, exclaiming, "I feel better now!" Awesome. My job here is done. Back at it again tomorrow. I can't wait for the weekend, where I will be planning all hours and reading to get ready for next week. I can't wait to have my feet under me. Until then, as a good friend always tells me, I've got to, "keep fighting."

Goodbye....HELLO!

I guess I'll start at the beginning. Last year was rough. I mean, really rough. It was my fifth year teaching in day treatment and really life should not have been as difficult as it was. I started the last school year fresh, and renewed, coming off of my trip to Costa Rica and having a fun-filled summer with my Chinese exchange students. Then, around October things at work started getting a little dicey. My team was sort of unraveling and I felt obligated to keep everyone together, or else, I risked losing control of my classroom. Meanwhile, my supervisor would return from his weekly meeting with a bleak outlook on funding for our program. First of all, we barely had any kids/clients. A day treatment program does not run without students. Do not ask me where the children with mental illness are because I know they're out there! In fact, I would see them several times walking through the halls of our host school. The truth of the matter is, though, schools don't have the money to pay for students to attend specialized classes. They are barely keeping their heads above water as is! The way that funding currently exists in our state means that schools take a double-hit when children are placed in our programs. They lose money and they end up having to pay money, in some cases. All in all, it's a really bad set up. Mental health agencies know it, schools know it, teachers know it, and even most families know it. Guess who doesn't know it? Well, that's for another post/rant. So, there we were with four staff; myself, a behavioral support specialist, a therapist and an instructional assistant. And, we had four students. Yes, four students. Can you imagine? I know every teacher that is out there reading this is thinking, "This chick had four students? Puh lease. Try 45." I know, I'll take that, and I totally get it. I'd also like those out there that may be thinking that to also consider that the children I was working with were basically so lacking in skills that they would bite, throw things, scream, punch, kick, etc. to communicate their needs. Yikes. Regardless, a one to one ratio is still unheard of this day and age. Thus, the reason to be afraid. Our number situation would fluctuate. We would get an influx of students who weren't particularly appropriate for our setting. Yet, I found myself trying to do everything within my power to keep the kids in my classroom for fear of numbers dropping and having to close our doors. Then, November came. Unfortunately, November only brought more bad news. We found out that one of our satellite classrooms was being closed, and another program was having to move to a new location in the middle of the year. People were given very little notice and the process of "bumping" began. My behavioral support specialist was one of the first to be bumped, as another B.S.S. had more seniority. So, by the beginning of December, my classroom was jumping with kids that were not suitable for day treatment, and brand new staff members. At this point, our instructional assistant (she may have been promoted to BSS by this time?) decided she was at an age where she was just over running after kids up and down the halls and outside. Who can blame her? So, now, to add to the chaos, we had a new staff person handling all the BSS responsibilities, inappropriately placed kids AND we were going to have to start the job search for a new instructional assistant. By the time Christmas came I knew I was pretty much resolved to the job search the following spring. With this new resolution always looming in the back of my mind, I began to pray. "Thank you God for giving me such great experience in this teaching position. Please let me be tolerant of carrying out your will. Give me guidance and patience and let me know when the time is right. Oh, and can I please, please, please, please have a new job? Amen." As the months went on, there would be these brilliant moments of hope. We would be told that things seemed to be coming together and some big moves were being made in the legislature and to hang in there. Yes, hang in there because things are looking up! And, for a time they were. Then, the clouds would move in again and the anxiety would spike. This cycle persisted through most of my days. Then, as if by magic, a position opened up at the host-school I was working. An 8th grade language arts position. Now, if anyone knows anything about me, it is that I cannot get through an interview to save my life. So, at first I was very apprehensive. Then, one night it just hit me. I had to apply. What was the harm? If I didn't get the position, then, I would have my job to fall back on. If I didn't get the job, then the school wasn't as great as I thought it was to begin with, then was it? I submitted my application. A few days later, the principal called me and said they would like to interview me for the position. I remember thinking after I got that phone call, oh drat, shit just got real. I began scouring my brain for potential interview questions and may have even made a few (hundred) notecards so that I could help myself practice. I know, neurotic, right? Here's the deal. I am really so terrible at interviewing that I completely freeze and literally....literally...start crying. I wish I was joking. It's the most awful, embarrassing moment. As the interview date drew closer, I knew I had but one thing I had to do: confess to the principal. Naturally, she was confused about why one would break down sobbing in an interview, and honestly, I wish I had a solid response for her, but, alas, I have nothing. It's a freak phenomenon. It's just too much nervousness and anxiety that it all comes pouring out my eyeballs, I guess! When I interview, I always take precautions. From valium, to therapy, to exercise, to deep breathing, I have tried every possible calming strategy I know of. This was no different. I had gone to workout prior to the interview. I spoke with a counselor. I practiced breathing with my Hoberman sphere. I did my hair and makeup and put on a really cute outfit and off I went to the school. The minute I stepped foot into the office, the same office I walk into every single day, I began to panic. Sweaty palms, rapid pulse, and, oh, there it is, the lump in my throat. The number one indicator that I am about to cry. In my head, I calmed myself down, assured myself this would only be a very limited amount of minutes of my whole life, that I was prepared, and I chugged water. Then, it was my turn. Oh boy. I made it through the first few questions all right. I knew I was barely holding it together and my resolve was crumbling with every new question. I may have made it through about three questions when it really hit. Oh God, here we go. The crying begins, then the embarrassment sets in, then the humiliation, etc. It's a brutal cycle. I sucked it up, though, and got through the rest of the interview. This was by far the best I had ever done in an interview, but it was still disappointing seeing as how I thought I had prepared myself enough to really show what I know. I immediately went home, rewarded myself with a hot shower and hopped into bed. I remember texting with some friends to let them know to not expect to hear anything else about said job interview because I didn't want to talk about it. Just then, I got another call. The principal, again. She said the panel decided they would like to watch me do a demonstration lesson. WOOHOOOOOOO! What a relief! I made it through the worst part and now I got to do the thing I really wanted to do; teach. She gave me the content strand they wanted me to teach to and I began planning immediately. It took me about 2 days to come up with a decently solid lesson, as teaching something in isolation is pretty tough. As the days went on, I felt more and more confident about how my lesson would go. The day of I felt excellent. I had all my materials. I was fully prepped, and ready to go. Then, came the waiting time prior to the lesson. Excruciating. The second-guessing settled in. Maybe I should have done this? Or, I could do it this way? Wait, I didn't think about...? Finally, I was exhausted. There was no way, at this point, that I could address every variable. It just wasn't possible. So, I went in, and taught. It was the most fun I have had teaching in probably 4 years. I was making connections with kids! They were engaging, me! I absolutely loved it. When I left the interview, I thought, shoot, that was fun! I've really got to get a different job. But, I also knew, through years of practicing self-reflection that I could have shifted, and adjusted, a lot of things in that lesson to make it go more smoothly. By the time I got home that night I was fully spent. I just wanted to crawl in bed and sleep for 12 hours. And, that's pretty much exactly what I did. Right after I said my evening prayers. "Dear God, thank you for getting me through that horrible process. Thank you for walking me through it and showing me the way. Now, can you please urge them to tell me their decision one way or the other? I may die if I have to wait all weekend. Amen." The next morning I went to work as usual, though, I did consider calling in sick. You know, just so I could stay home and second-guess the lesson even more. The what ifs...and the should haves...were powerful, but I decided that the best thing to get my mind off of it would be to follow my normal routine. Off to work I went. When I got to school, my supervisor was really late. I mean, REALLY, late. Finally, he called our classroom line and said he was on his way but he got held up outside because he was called as a reference for a one Judy Tacchini. Apparently, they had talked for a very long time on the phone. I thought, this has to be a good sign right? But...maybe it was wise to not get my hopes up just yet. A little while later, the principal showed up at my classroom door and asked me to step out into the hall for a minute. You have to know the principal, but she had to put me in suspense a while longer and said, "I have some good news and I have some bad news." Uh oh. "I'll start with the bad news. The bad news is, (insert agency name here) will have to find a teacher for next year....because the good news is, we would like to offer you the job." Now, I had reason to cry. Tears of joy! I wanted to jump up and down and scream and cry, and I could not stop smiling. What a wonderful Friday. And, that, folks, is a very lengthy description of how I got hired on as an 8th grade language arts teacher. Stay tuned for Chinese school updates, classroom decor photos, etc. It's all gonna be here folks. As long as I continue not sleeping, I will continue writing.

Soul Searching

Early this fall, my friend Sarah and her mother introduced me to some art therapy of sorts. The specific method is called Soul Collage. I really recommend it to darn near everyone. For one thing, it's just fun. For another, it reveals a lot about yourself, that you may, or may not, have known. It's a relatively easy and painless process. All you need are tons of magazine pictures (no words), some mat board, scissors, and glue. Once you have materials, you basically just pick out a few pictures that "call to you." You may not really know why you grab the pictures you do, but all will be revealed through the process. Once you have your pictures, you start cutting out, maybe even tearing, and arranging your pieces on your mat board as you see fit. It's strange how it all just sort of "comes together." It's a great process for me, because it let's me stop thinking about how things "should" be and just let's things be. It's quite mindless, and therefore, really relaxing! Once your pictures are arranged, then comes the gluing. The final step is reflecting on your piece, and letting it "speak to you" in a way. You get to ask your card questions and just see what comes up for you. This for me, typically means, lots of tears and giggles. I have not completed nearly as many as I want to, and am working on dedicating at least one time per month to work on more. So far, here's what I've come up with... Enjoy! I wish there was a way that I could add captions, and such but I really don't want to take the time to figure it out right now. Titles: Top Left - Catholic Guilt Top Right - Worry Middle Left - Washing Away Middle Right - Sin in the City Bottom Left - Balance If anyone of you readers has an interest in participating, or trying your hand at Soul Collage, please let me know! I'd be happy to help you get started!

From Costa Rica to the Classroom

I think six months is sufficient duration for me to pick up the blogging again. The thing is, life in Eugene, typically isn't that exciting. I guess I could really write about anything, and I definitely have some very funny stories from San Francisco and my birthday to share. Of course, that would mean that I'd have to get permission from the innocent parties that were involved. One thing I don't need permission, for, however, is telling stories about my hilarious and eclectic students. This week has been hard, which I feel ridiculous saying because I have 3 students. It should be the easiest job in the world, and quite, honestly, it probably is easier than most other teaching jobs because of all the support I have. However, this week my students have said a couple of things that have really caused me to laugh. I don't laugh in the moment, of course, I jot it down, and wait 'til they leave to really get my giggles. Anyway, here are some highlights from the week... The kids were playing the Positive Thinking Game with their social skills teacher a couple of days ago. In the game, the kids draw situation cards and then have to come up with a "positive" way of looking at the situation, or a "positive" thing to say in response to the situation. So, the other day, one of my students drew the situation that he had gone to the dentist and found out he had to have three cavities filled. How could he positively respond? He exclaimed, "Well, I'd tell him he'd better seduce me because that would hurt!" That is no typo. That's honestly how he thinks that word should be used. His other favorite exclamation of this week is, "Oh my, frickin' out loud!" Again, makes no sense. Another one of our students likes to shout, "What the FLIM FLAM!?" when he is upset about something. Today, another one of my students told me a great story, and I wouldn't feel right if I deprived others from hearing it. Title: How To Make Turtle Soup "Okay, first, you have to find a turtle. If you see one walking by, pick it up, and pull off it's shell. Then, let it walk away. Then, you take the shell pour some soup in it, and pop it in the microwave. Let it cook for three or four minutes in there, and when the microwave beeps, that means it's done. Then you can eat it, but DO NOT eat the shell. That'd be bad." The end. These stories actually make my students sound really charming. They can be, but this week they have been anything but! So, I have to find the little redeeming pieces and cling to them for dear life. Clinging on... Judy