Crazy Mrs. Conrow

I am that teacher. The one that students don't quite know what to think when they first meet me. 

If new students ask if I assign a lot of homework, I say, "I've heard Mrs. Conrow assigns a boatload of homework." Which is absolutely a true statement I overheard a third-grade student of mine say during the first week of my second year of teaching. Oops.

If a student asks if I know where something of theirs is, I respond with, "I didn't eat it." I don't get asked where their stuff is very often anymore.

Before my knee injury I used to jump up and down a lot, and my favorite way to get the attention of a noisy class was to stand on a table or desk. If that didn't work by itself (which it almost always did) I would start to loudly clear my throat. Once, a student told his parents I stand on tables and bark like a dog.

On the first day of school with my seventh graders, I give them a piece of blank paper and put one under the document camera for myself. I ask them to write down their favorites - colors, foods, books, movies, songs, movies, bands, hobbies, sports... If they have a favorite I don't say, I encourage them to list it. Then I ask them to write down words people in their lives would use to describe them - friends, parents, teachers, grandparents, cousins, neighbors. I tell them this is not something I will collect, but it might help them with the activity we will do next.

They use this to help them decide what to sculpt out of modeling clay or Play-Doh (whichever is cheapest to buy small containers of in bulk before the school year starts) to use to introduce themselves to me. Normally, as they sculpt, I walk around the room and glance over what they wrote to get an initial sense of how they see themselves. Due to my sprained ankle this year, I had to forego that part of the plan. But I did sculpt a cane/crochet hook for my own introduction.

Their intros have to be 30 seconds or less. If they don't know what to say, I give them the fill in the blank phrase, "My name is ______ and I made ______ because _______."

To back up a little, before we jump into any of this, I do introduce myself to the class. This year my intro slide included my current injury count. When they tried to ask questions about my stab wound (which I added because it's visible and I currently draw attention to by scratching at it all the time) I said, "You don't get to know about my stab wound, just that I have one." A student raised his hand and asked what my cats' names are and I answered it. Another one asked when I was stabbed and I gave the exact date. A third started to ask another question about the stab wound, and I flipped to the next slide, moving forward with my presentation, setting a boundary. They get to know a little, but not everything.

I frequently tell students who are meeting me for the first time how weird I am. I ask students who have met me before if they agree with that statement. The poor children of my co-workers, or those who were vocal younger siblings when their older siblings were in my room, look like deer in the headlights when confronted with this question in front of their classmates! Every time, every one of them is hesitant to answer the question. But by the end of day two, every student agrees I'm weird, with an enthusiastic, "YES!"

As we write our favorites and words, I always tell the kids a little more about myself. For example, I start out saying, "Purple is my second favorite color. Blue is actually my first favorite color. When I was your age, I would have said pizza was my favorite food, but now I'm going to say, turkey." Inevitably there are kids who are already lost. I have four words on my page but have only asked about two favorites. Do they have to use the colors I'm using? Also, what if you don't have a favorite color? So, I remind them I will not be collecting this, tell them it's okay to have more than one favorite of something, or skip one or more of them if you don't have a favorite of it. We continue. When I write down certain words, I always give a teaser of a back story, like, "I was a very quiet student, I never raised my hand in class." or "When I was a little younger than you, our backyard neighbors would have definitely called me mean." If someone asks about it and the class quiets down, I'll fill them in with a few details.

This year, in preparation for the second day of school with a sprained ankle, among my other injuries, I took time during this part of the activity to stop and call on a random kid to ask, "Who can I trust to push me around in a rolling chair tomorrow?" It got pretty silent when I asked that, for about half a second. Then everyone raised their hand. "Me! Me!" I asked other students to verify if the named student was a trustworthy choice. When they asked, "What are we doing tomorrow?" I responded with, "You'll have to come to class to find out!"

As they took their seats on the second day of school, I sat in the front of the room in my rolling chair. I called up the first of two students who were selected the day before to push me. When asked where we were going, I responded with, "You're the pilot. We go where you push. We just need to stay inside the classroom." With the first class, the student was off as soon as I was done talking. She took me in a circle around the rows of desks. As soon as we started moving, I shot my arms out to the sides and did my best toddler impression of an airplane. About a quarter of the way around the room I said, "We have reached our cruising altitude. It is now safe to unbuckle your seatbelts and move about the cabin. Be careful when opening overhead bins as items may have shifted during takeoff." Some kids stood up and moved to chat with their friends. Halfway around the room I said, "We seem to be experiencing some turbulence! Please return to your seats and buckle your seatbelts!" I started bouncing in the chair and tried to sound like a sputtering engine. As we reached the front of the room I bent over sideways and froze in place, sending the student who had been pushing me to sit down.

After 10-15 seconds, I called for the second student to push me. I picked up my cane, and as soon as we started moving, I pretended the cane was an oar and started pretending to look for and pull survivors into the life raft. Then the kids got a list of 10 "crash survivors" with back stories like "an engineer who has worked in developing nations building wells; is a diabetic and needs insulin (which needs to be refrigerated)" and "a special forces soldier with survival training; seems to be suffering from PTSD or some form of anxiety (woke up screaming in the night believing he was being chased)." They have to work in small groups to come to agreement on which five people get rescued and which five have to stay on the island. *

Near the end of class on the second day I asked again, "Now do you believe that I'm weird?" Every student - legitimately every single one, in both classes - with at least a hint of a smile said, "YES!" And when I dismissed them (again, both classes) they wouldn't leave. They kept debating with their group. I said, "I'm glad you love it here, but you have to go!" and "I know you didn't have enough time to finish, that's why I'm giving you time to work on it tomorrow." Finally, as the last student exited, I said, "I'll see you tomorrow." He replied, "Yay!"

A seventh-grade boy said, "Yay!" to a new teacher telling him, "I'll see you tomorrow." I don't know what it feels like to win the lottery, but that moment had to come pretty darn close. The next day I saw a different boy in the hallway, and I said his name in long, drawn out, stage whisper. He responded with my name in a long, drawn out, stage whisper, "Coonroooowwww!" which made me grin from ear to ear. It's going to be a fantastic year!

*This activity comes from Dave Burgess' book Teach Like a Pirate. It is a hit every year. You can find many more TLAP activities at his website: daveburgess.com – Teach Like a Pirate

Ah, Summer!

 

Summer vacation has arrived. It was a long haul this year, and as I told my students often, I wouldn't have been in the classroom without them this time around. This year was the year I had both of my former fourth grade classes as seventh and eighth grade students. Quite honestly, if it hadn't been the year I was supposed to teach both former fourth grade groups, I would have almost certainly taken a leave of absence.

I was stabbed in the neck two weeks before the school year started and underwent five hours of emergency surgery to ensure my life was not in danger. Thankfully it wasn't, but 10 months later, I am still in daily pain that intensifies when I overuse my left side by doing things like lifting heavy groceries, singing or talking loudly, or sleeping on it. I had to lean on my co-workers like never before this year just to get through each day when I returned in late September, and was still pulling the, "I was stabbed" card the last week of the year when I opted out of a seventh-grade ropes course field trip and field day.

But I genuinely loved both of my fourth-grade classes and couldn't pass up the opportunity to teach them both again, at the same time! I was not my usual self. Not even close to the kangaroo on steroids I used to be... but by the end of the year I was at least standing on tables again.

One new tactic that I started using this year was inserting pictures of my pets into my slideshows. Beginning in April, each morning the first slide my students saw was a meme I created from a photo I have of one of my (many) pets.

Although I was apparently much more fun as a fourth-grade teacher than I am as a seventh and eighth grade teacher, I still feel a special bond with these kiddos. It was really special taking the eighth graders to Boston and Washington DC with my principal on the cusp of his retirement. These kids were quite possibly the best-behaved students I've ever taken on a trip. When individual students asked what time we were leaving after a longish picnic lunch, we told them 1:00. Maybe five students asked. At 12:49 every student was assembled and ready to board the bus.

Perhaps my favorite moment of the school year came on the last day of school before graduation. The eighth graders have a retreat where they reflect on their eighth-grade year, the legacy they are leaving behind, and what they are taking with them as they move onto high school. First thing in the morning, one of my students came up to me, fishing something large out of his pocket. He said, "Mrs. Conrow, is it okay if I have pickles?" as he slid the jar from his pocket.

I laughed and asked to take a picture. He later shared the jar with his advisory group, and the pickles were gone in under five minutes. 

Of course, I can't help but look ahead to next year, when I hope to be more healed and closer to the kangaroo on steroids I once was. I was at a club world cup game this weekend, and the people in front of us came prepared, with laminated red and yellow cards. They were probably my favorite part of the game... especially since we didn't win.

I want to think of a way to implement this in my classroom next year. Perhaps a giant yellow card with the words, "Whoa, Warriors!" in large, friendly letters - Warriors being our school's mascot, and "Whoa, Warriors" being a phrase I say when I want the class to calm down. Somehow this also reminded me that I wanted to become a carrier of emergency confetti to celebrate wins in the classroom. Perhaps I'll remember to do both next year.

Engaging Students in May

 Teachers know this time of year is challenging. It's crazy with its own busyness closing out the year, but also includes the increased difficulty of capturing student attention as blue skies emerge and the calendar draws closer to the start of summer break.

In my current position I have the added challenge of an end date that is a week earlier than all other grades in the building - for some reason eighth graders in Catholic schools in my area graduate a week before the last day of school - and a host of eighth grade specific activities that stir excitement and decrease instructional time:

• Annual trip to the East Coast - this year we added Boston to the usual D.C. itinerary
• Community project (capstone project for eighth graders in an IB school) presentations
• Eighth grade retreat where we reflect on the year and elect the "torch bearers" (students from the current 7th grade who embody the school's mission and Catholic values who can be role models to the school) for the upcoming school year
• Graduation practices
• Graduation brunch

So how do I keep kids engaged? Well, I have to admit that what works one year might not work the next. But this year May has gotten off to a great start. First, my partner teacher and I planned a mock conclave in the wake of Pope Francis' death. Students began by brainstorming a job listing for the pope. They worked as a class to come up with a description of the Catholic church as a company and in small groups to decide on the pope's responsibilities and minimum qualifications. After researching the "front runners" in the papal election as defined by the College of Cardinals website and reporting their findings to their classmates they will vote for their top choice for the new pope before the real conclave convenes in the middle of next week.

Also, our study of Westward Expansion (defined for our purposes as the migration of different groups of people into the western portion of the United States during the 1800 and 1900s) has gone over quite well. We are looking at one event per day, taking a quick look at topics like Manifest Destiny, trails headed west, Indian removal, Texas Revolution, Mexican-American War, California Gold Rush, and slavery. Each topic includes some activity that allows students to move around the room, and generally there's a small group component as well. Today there was a Reader's Theatre script that engaged every student. Their dramatization of the Battle of Gonzalez was hilarious! And even better, they could explain to me what happened and why. Perhaps next week won't be as smooth, but perhaps it will.

Reader's Theatre:
It's too bad I didn't take a video.

What the Shakespeare?

I am slowly feeling myself come back. In addition to the knee injury I sustained when I slipped on ice two years ago, I was stabbed in August. I wrote about it this fall but haven't put the post out into the world because of the circumstances surrounding the incident. Maybe one day. Suffice it to say, it's been a hard year. Harder than my first two years teaching middle school at my current school - which was surprising given how much I loved teaching middle school at a previous school.

A current high school student, from my first eighth grade class in my current building, was leaving a funeral as I was walking back from dropping my class off in the gym this week. In addition to the pleasantries we exchanged, he told me his class had set me up to fail; that they had been "evil." While I denied the claim of them being evil, I said I had known they set me up to fail. They were upset that I was not my predecessor and made sure I knew it. Enough of them fell into this habitual way of interacting with me that forming relationship with the class as a whole proved impossible for me. They even made me cry during the last week of school by posting on a Jamboard (remember Jamboards?) that when they went on the Washington DC trip, they realized I hadn't taught them anything all year long in their U.S. History class. Even though I had always known the cause of their ire, it was cathartic to hear from the mouth of a student who had been there that they had set me up to fail.

This year I am teaching both of my former fourth grade classes. Of course there have been shifts in the rosters, with students leaving and new students joining the classes. But by and large, I've known these kids since they were nine. And I've started to bounce a bit again. Just a bit, as I am still in fairly constant pain from my two-year-old knee injury. (I had an MRI yesterday and am hoping for actionable results.) I also stand on a lunch table seat when I have lunch duty to get the kids' attention rather than raising my voice or blowing a whistle... even though the lunch lady whose daughter is in my class (for the second time) always tells me I shouldn't in case I fall and injure myself further.

Today I unlocked a pretty huge achievement. I wore a necklace all day long. It's the first time I even attempted to wear a necklace to school since I was stabbed. I tried a couple of weeks ago to wear one and could only tolerate it for a couple of hours. But I didn't even feel the necklace today, except when I was showing off to my co-workers that I was wearing it.

But the biggest sign that I am coming back to the teacher I used to be comes from my interactions with students. I overheard a group of girls whispering about someone's new boyfriend and stage whispered back, "Sally Sue has a boyfriend!?" The tea turned out to be about a celebrity rather than a classmate, but my stage whisper did get the trio to turn their attention back to their work.

Yesterday my Catholic school seventh graders were investigating Renaissance art and literature, looking for humanist characteristics. They were excited to see we would be examining two works by Petrarch, whose quote had been a major launching point of our Medieval Times unit. They were happy to learn Petrarch had been a priest until they also learned he wrote over 300 love sonnets to someone named Laura. There was an uproar. So, I said, "When you are having that reaction, say, 'What the Shakespeare?'" They repeated that phrase several times throughout class yesterday.

Today, we were in the middle of reading from a letter Petrarch had written to his brother, a monk, as Petrarch defended his love of secular poetry, worldly interests, and individualism even as he had an intense love for God when there was an unexpected fire drill. As we settled back into the classroom after coming back in out of the rain, a student commented, "What the Shakespeare!?" To which a classmate responded, "There is no more Sigma. Only Shakespeare." 

To those in the know - that is a massive achievement unlocked for a middle school teacher in 2025. I feel like I beat the boss battle and won the game. At least for today. Although it is unlikely I will hear "What the Shakespeare?" in the hallways next week, I will hold onto the memory of this exchange for some time to come.

Student Grievances

 I have an annual assignment in my eighth grade U.S. History class for students to write complaint letters following the structure of the Declaration of Independence. Most complaints are about the homework load, the school uniform policy, or sibling interactions. 

Every year one or two complaints need to be addressed by administration, which is one reason this assignment will stay in the rotation: some kids use it to open up about real problems in their lives.

But my favorite part about this assignment is when kids take the opportunity to really try to mimic the Declaration and make me laugh out loud. Here is an example from this year:

Another gem from this year is a student complaining about his dad's behaviors and his previous attempts to make change:

I always encourage students to discuss their complaints with whomever they address in their letter, and to let me know specifically, when I am infringing in their "rights" as the express in this assignment. It is rare that they actually do, but this year another eighth-grade teacher and I have started a Civic Spirit Club. We are just beginning the research phase in order to make action plans to be changemakers in our community. This affords me another avenue of helping my students understand that their opinions matter and there are ways to make their voices heard!