Friday Afternoons

I’m sitting in a warm, quiet bus, in a long line of school buses like a yellow ribbon strung in an arc in front of this grade 2-4 school, waiting. Momentarily the doors will open and they will emerge, walking as fast as possible without breaking into a run (running ist Verboten!), happy, their eyes scanning for their bus number or the familiar faces of their drivers. They jostle to be first on the bus, a badge of honor which goes to little Dominic most of the time. He is by far the shortest of this group, but you should see how fast his little legs can walk.

The cold January air and the increasing loudness have replaced the quiet and the warmth. Time to get to work!

It is Friday. They are so loud and restless on Fridays that I believe, at times, my pulse quickens.

Volume Control UP
Friday afternoon is the most dramatic and most active ride of the week. Someone calls someone stupid. That’s all it takes and now, the receiver of stupid believes that I must, that I want, to know about it. How do they tell me from seat 15? They yell. I can’t hear them, so they simply yell louder, their insulted eyes on me. I still can’t hear them because one yeller turns up the volume enough to require another child to yell to his friends, like a line of dominos standing on end, the first yell is the touch that starts the action.

The Driver Reacts
Twice I have pulled over, turned off the engine and become the Wicked Witch of the West on a Friday afternoon. Occassionally I’ve attempted other methods to quell the mounting Friday afternoon chaos. One time I grabbed my microphone, turned the volume to high and sang: “Whooooooooooooooooo lives in a pineapple under the sea!”. Shocked into silence, they gazed at one another, mouths open in surprise but quickly recovered and boomed, “Sponge Bob Square Pants!!”. That was fun and it worked. They sang that annoying little ditty for days.

You know, the way this story is told, you might be surprised that it is only a 3-mile trip. My motto has been, “I can take anything for three miles”. However, there are ten stop signs, one traffic light, and a lot of turns. I count them on Fridays.

Requiem for Bob and Joan

Whining on Wednesdayand Having Some Fun
I have a new Pet Peeve!
The Culprits
Amaya, Naairah, Zania, Ayana, Anass, Javaughn, Nathalie, Caitlyn, Caitlin, Shakur, etc., etc.
The Question
I s there a secret competition to bestow upon babies names that are rare, invented, hard to pronounce, or spelled so as to further confuse the already confusing rules of phonics?
My Ears Were Opened!
I noticed the extent of this craziness when I started driving school children whereupon it was discovered to be rampant in elementary to middle school aged children.
Rambling - Briefly
Occasionally I write for the local newspaper and had an assignment to cover a small event at an elementary school and to get a group photo of the children involved. Three teachers assisted me, straight faced, with spelling the children’s names, as I tried to hide my horror and astonishment at the absurdity of the names and their spelling.
Action
If a child is named ‘ROCK’, does it have to be spelled R-A-U-K?
What’s up with this?
I suppose these names will always be misspelled and having to say, “no it’s not ‘SKY’ it’s S-K-Y-E” or “no, it’s not MARIE, it’s M-A-R-E-E," could become tiresome. Take it from me, Donnalee LaRose. No one gets it right. I've stopped the corrections.
Conclusion
Who wants to wager these children will name their own children Susan and David?

Or, perhaps Shakur and Maree will be the new Betty and Bobby.

The Situation
Seating for the 2nd and 3rd grade is in the middle of the bus, from whence comes deafening boy noise.

The Outburst
One particularly noisy afternoon I yelled, no bellowed, “boys, if this screaming doesn’t stop, I will move one of you up front and seat you between two 1st grade girls…and I know who you are.” That little outburst delivered sensory relief and their short attention spans.

Hands were raised. “What!, I said, no- yelled.

Characters
“I’ll come up front”, volunteered the boy I call Jack in the Box. This child cannot sit down. When I tell him to sit down, he sits down, and when I look back, he’s standing up again. He often has not had breakfast or brushed his teeth when he comes to school.

“Me!”, volunteered another. This one is obsessed with the Guiness Book of World Records. Every Monday he tells me about something he did over the weekend, trying to break a record. Last weekend it was standing on a pile of books. “What is the record?”, I asked. “79 hours”(or something like that), he said. “How many hours did you stand on books?”, I asked. “6 hours”, he said. “Wow, keep at it – you’ll do it, now go back and sit down.”

I don’t want the next volunteer up front even though he’s responsible for a lot of noise. Obsessed with Obama and Lincoln, he likes to prove how smart he is by reciting all kinds of facts about them. No one else can get a word.

Reality
Actually, I don’t want any of them up front. There’s not enough room “up front” for everyone who wants to sit there. Up front is for the youngest and the baddest.

Proposal
Round school busses! The good children can sit up front as well as the young and the bad. And maybe we'll have a quieter ride!

It's Soooo Cold in the Mornings

It's dark and it cold, but I like the camaraderie - why complain, we each have to start up a freezing cold, tin can with an ice cold vinyl seat to sit upon.

The veteran's know, so I watch to learn. Ski pants, bib style. If I'm doing this next year I'm getting some.

SPEECH LESSONS FOR MIDDLE SCHOOLERS?

Saturday, December 12, 2009

When the "F-Bomb" is hurled, I look in the mirror and allow the indignation and horror show on my face. Some gaze back with a "what's your problem" look - some look away.

My remedy? A quote to challenge their Playstation glazed brains. But, let's give some credit, at least to the few who understood that 'profanity' means "something about swearing", as one girl explained to her seat mate.

PROFANITY IS THE EFFORT OF A FEEBLE BRAIN TO EXPRESS ITSELF FORCIBLY

I challenged them to write down what this quote meant and drop it in my 'container' when boarding after school. The promise of candy later in the week sealed the deal.

Did We Stop Teaching Spelling in Middle School?

A sampling of the responses follows (as written):

You cursing means your not so graet of bright.

Don't curse on the bus.

Curseings for wimps. He He :)

That means no cureing! on the bus

Profanity is a stupid way for stupid people to try to be tough (wow-a speller!)

Dont sware. Swareing is bad or if swear your weak

Cursing is the way young brain describe how we really feel

Did We Meet the Goal?

If there's any more swearing on the bus, you can't hear it. This exercise taught them to swear softly. Middle schoolers are a blast!

Posted by Donnalee at 5:48 AM 0 comments