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!

Answered Prayer?

I'm sure I've made many hyperbolic statements throughout my life, but it is not hyperbole to say that the week before my birthday this year was the worst one in my entire life. Since then I have, thankfully, been instinctually counting my blessings.

My oldest child ran away, insofar as a 22-year-old can run away, in early July. She left for a planned trip but wrote us a "goodbye forever" message in Discord and blocked us on all platforms as soon as she left. We had no contact with her for about six weeks before she called, apparently at rock bottom and in need of our support. We had known she was in need in mental health help and headed for a crisis, but prior to running away we had been unsuccessful in convincing her to access any sort of support.

Our only goal for her upon returning home was to get into some sort of treatment. It had been our prayer, the prayer of many in our community for her, since early spring. Unfortunately, after being home for less than 10 hours, awake for less than two, she waited for me outside the bathroom and stabbed me multiple times in the neck.

My husband disarmed her (twice) and sat on her until law enforcement arrived. I went out to the front lawn, wondering why I hadn't fainted from blood loss. My younger child called 911. So one week before my birthday this summer, I underwent nearly five hours of emergency surgery and was in the hospital for two nights as my firstborn child was booked into jail. See, not hyperbole. Worst. Week. Ever.

I know I have a lot of emotional healing to do that will go above and beyond the physical. But right now I am doing surprisingly well. I'm managing my pain with ibuprofen and acetaminophen. I can talk about what happened without sobbing. 

This seems like a time to count and recount my blessings, even the ones I accept grudgingly:

• Most importantly, I am alive - my husband literally saved my life
• I know where my kid is, and I know she's safe
• My child will now be compelled to accept mental health help
• My parents jumped in the car and drove through two states to see me in the hospital
• My in-laws jumped in the car and drove through one state to see me in the hospital
• There is a deeply satisfying pleasure in simply taking a deep breath
• A co-worker volunteered, enthusiastically to set up my classroom for the year
• My boss found a sub for me for the first two weeks of school
• I have been gifted many delicious homemade meals that come with heartfelt cards
• I have been gifted many, many gift cards
• So many people have called, emailed, and texted to check in
• My school community is incredibly supportive. Everyone is doing everything possible to make sure I am not worrying about the start of the school and getting the rest and recovery time I need

I'm not exactly happy about how God chose to answer the prayers for my daughter to get the mental health help she needs. But I am forced to believe there really wasn't another way. She did not hit my artery. She did not puncture my esophagus. She did not damage my trachea. My doctors expect me to make a full recovery. I hope the same will be true for my child.

Update (August 16, 2025):

This week marks one year since I was stabbed. I wrote the above post three weeks after the incident, but did not publish it, not knowing if I was ready for the news to be out in the world. One year in I know I am not healed - physically or mentally. My child is still in county jail while mental health experts are apparently preparing a report to present in court. The trial date has been pushed back several times. A judge put a no contact order in place due to the violent nature of the crime, so it is currently illegal for our child to have contact with us - making it impossible to know how she is doing or what kind of mental health help is being offered, if any. I don't know what's next for her, but I wish the process of getting there was faster.

I am in physical therapy, massage therapy, trauma therapy, and still have phone calls with my PCP about every other month. My physical therapist and massage therapist have worked together to help me regain most of the movement in my neck. I am still dealing with nerve damage that has greatly reduced sensation in my neck, shoulder, pec, and upper back and causes stabbing pain to randomly ravage the scar area. My trauma therapist is helping me work toward processing the event, which has gotten me to the point of writing again - this week I journaled and wrote a poem, both for the first time since before I was stabbed. I am healing. Again, I just wish the process was faster.

A Most Splendid Event

A few weeks ago, I had my students research the Louisiana Purchase using resources curated by PBS. They were then asked to write a persuasive essay explaining why the purchase was or was not a "most splendid event" as it was reported by some newspapers at the time. Research skills and persuasive writing are both important skills, and the kids dove into their research and essays with very little complaint given that the end of the school year feels well within reach.

In an era when teachers have to be wary of students opting to have AI generate an essay for them, my students stepped up and used their very own writing skills to complete my assignment. This was indeed, a most splendid event.

Here are two absolute gems of papers that were submitted by this year's eighth graders (presented with the authors' permission):

The Louisiana Purchase: A Comedy of Geopolitical Gains

In the annals of history, few events stand out quite like the most splendid Louisiana Purchase—a colossal real estate deal that would make even the savviest modern-day realtor blush. Picture this: It's 1803, and Napoleon Bonaparte, the French Emperor with a penchant for military conquests, decides he has some prime American real estate lying around. So, he offers it up to Thomas Jefferson, the American President at the time, like a yard sale bargain too good to refuse.

Jefferson, perhaps imagining himself as the next great land baron, jumps at the opportunity, sealing the deal for a mere $15 million. That’s less than the cost of some Hollywood celebrity mansions today! And just like that, the United States doubled in size, all thanks to a stroke of Napoleon’s pen and a hefty dose of manifest destiny.

Of course, not everyone was thrilled about this sudden expansion. Imagine being Spain, minding your own business in the New World, only to wake up and find out your neighbor just went on a shopping spree and bought half the continent. It's like waking up to find out your roommate sold your backyard to the neighbors for a pool.

But hey, who cares about hurt feelings when you've got acres upon acres of untamed wilderness ripe for exploration? Lewis and Clark must have felt like kids in a candy store, except instead of candy, they had uncharted territories and potential encounters with grizzly bears.

And let’s not forget about the diplomatic dance that ensued. France, realizing they were in a bit of a financial pickle (thanks, Napoleon), decided to cash out and focus on European affairs. Meanwhile, the United States, with its newfound land, could finally flex its muscles on the global stage, proving once and for all that they were a force to be reckoned with.

In the end, the Louisiana Purchase was more than just a real estate transaction—it was a comedy of errors, a tale of ambition, and a prime example of how history can sometimes be stranger than fiction. So, the next time you look at a map of the United States and marvel at its vastness, just remember: it all started with a French Emperor and an American dream.

The Louisiana Purchase:

A Whimsical Tale of Land, Liberty, and Laissez-Faire

The Grand Bargain

Once upon a time, in the mystical land of America, there existed a vast, untamed wilderness known as the Louisiana Territory. Thomas Jefferson, that wily wordsmith and third president of the United States, had a brilliant idea: “Why not buy this whole shebang from the French?” And so, with a twinkle in his eye and a quill in his hand, he penned a letter to Napoleon Bonaparte, the French emperor, saying, “Hey, buddy, how about selling us your backyard? We promise not to throw wild parties or leave empty wine bottles lying around.”

The Bargain Bin Bonanza

Napoleon, being a shrewd negotiator and lover of croissants, agreed to the deal. For a mere $15 million (which, in today’s currency, is roughly equivalent to a lifetime supply of artisanal cheese), the United States acquired a landmass so vast that even Lewis and Clark got lost. Imagine the scene: Jefferson doing a little victory dance in his powdered wig, shouting, “We’ve got swamps, we’ve got bayous, we’ve got alligators—what more could a country ask for?”

The Wild West (of the East)

But wait, there’s more! The Louisiana Purchase wasn’t just about snagging prime real estate; it was about expanding the American dream. Settlers flocked to the newly acquired lands like seagulls to a French fry stand. They built log cabins, planted corn, and traded beaver pelts like it was going out of style. Manifest Destiny was in full swing, and folks were itching to explore the uncharted wilderness. “Yeehaw!” they cried, riding their trusty oxen into the sunset.

Consequences Galore

Of course, every fairy tale has its twists. The Louisiana Purchase had consequences aplenty. First, the Native American tribes who called this land home weren’t exactly thrilled about the whole “property transfer” thing. They raised their bows and arrows, shouting, “This is our turf, pal!” But alas, their protests fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the sound of surveyors measuring plots for new Starbucks locations.

And then there was the matter of slavery. The Louisiana Territory was a hodgepodge of cultures, languages, and gumbo recipes. Some folks wanted to keep their slaves, while others said, “Let’s set 'em free and have a jambalaya party!” The debate raged on, like a crawfish boil with too much Tabasco.

A Land of Contradictions

In the end, the Louisiana Purchase was like a beignet—sweet, messy, and impossible to resist. It shaped America’s destiny, fueled westward expansion, and left a trail of powdered sugar in its wake. So next time you’re sipping a café au lait in the French Quarter, raise your cup to Jefferson, Napoleon, and the wild, wonderful tale of the Louisiana Purchase. And remember, dear reader, life is like a bayou: murky, mysterious, and full of surprises.

Coming across these essays in the mix of other very well written, but more traditional essays made my day. I literally laughed out loud as I read them, which was completely unexpected for an assignment that asked students to pick and defend an interpretation of an historical event. I really do love my job.

Constitutional Game Day

 When I was in eighth grade I studied the Constitution. I had to memorize the preamble and was told that anyone who got below a C on the end of unit Constitution Test would be required to retake it until they passed, or not graduate from eighth grade. I suppose I might be misremembering that last bit about not being promoted to high school, but I do know that I was fearful of that test. I just knew I would be retaking the test all spring. Thankfully, I squeaked by with a 70% and only had to take the test once.

Fast forward more than three decades, and I find myself teaching the Constitution to a new generation of young teens. Based on my own experience, I knew I did not want to give my students a high stakes test, but I also knew I wanted them to really understand how our government works. Yes, I know they will get U.S. History again as juniors in high school, but igniting civic engagement now can only help them come to a deeper understanding later, which is an important piece of becoming civically minded adults. (I come by my fierce Patriotism naturally - my grandfather on my mother's side was a career officer in the Army, and my father moved here from Peru at age 18. I have always known that I am blessed to have been born in the United States.)

I have taught U.S. History to fifth graders eleven times, and this is my fourth year teaching it to eighth graders. In past years I have had students write a report. I stand by the need for students to be able to express themselves in writing, but I am no longer a writing teacher and a history teacher. It's no longer a primary part of my job to ensure students can express themselves in writing. One year I let my fifth graders make me whatever they wanted to show what they learned about the Constitution. I vividly remember one student's "Liberty Tree" made out of wrapping paper tubes, construction paper, and lots of labels.

I considered that tactic again this year. My seventh graders make "knowledge products" to showcase their learning about the European Renaissance, so they are familiar with less structure in a final project. But this year I was running up against spring break. I wanted something that would be fun for them, easy for me to assess, and doable by everyone before the break started. And then it hit me:

So today was play-testing day. We had games based on CandyLand, Chutes and Ladders, Sorry, Solitaire, Uno, Memory, Risk, and D&D as well as several original games. There was even one text-based computer game. (Zork, anyone?) Every student was engaged playing games created by their classmates. It was LOUD. There was so much laughter and students complimenting each other in the ruckus. They were genuinely invested in the games, getting upset when they lost, cheering when they won, and asking for rematches. 

This is my new favorite form of summative assessment. Tomorrow is a half day, and my students will spend it in the church presenting the Stations of the Cross to the school community. Testing each other's educational games was a perfect way to spend our last class period together before heading into a well-deserved Easter Break.

Knack for Injury... I mean Teaching

 So, today I drummed on desks to get my students' attention. I drum hard when I do this, so as to be heard above the noise I'm trying to quiet. Somehow, today this resulted in a thumb injury. I even got an ice pack from the office. I'm really not sure how that happened, as the initial pain, which was instant, was on the side of my thumb, not anywhere near where my hands were making contact with the desk. Also, I've done this hundreds of times this school year... what made this time result in a full finger ache that had me ordering a thumb brace from Amazon to be delivered to school tomorrow?

Also today, my "good" knee started hurting. I fell on ice the first Friday of December 2022 and have been nursing a knee injury ever since. It is getting better, but by wearing a knee brace every day at school and using a cane or walking stick whenever I'm on stairs. However, today, the back of my other knee began hurting. By the time I got home, my "good" knee was wracked with stabbing pain in both the front and back with every step. I feel old. I may teach from a rolling chair tomorrow.

When I told my husband he said, "You have a knack for getting injured." Yes, I know.

But in other news, I had three interactions this week that were incredibly affirming. The first one started out with a student in my elective creative writing class creating a brand-new character and story outline only to turn in a final story that was a retelling of a recent popular movie. The student did a great job with the retelling, but I sent it back for resubmission since the assignment was to write a story based on the new character and story outline. Based on several recent factors in this student's life, I was asked via email over the weekend if the new story needed to be written or if assessment could be based on the character creation and outline. I agreed, saying "I don't want my creative writing class to be the reason xxxx learns to dislike writing." 

But the parent responded that a check on the student's progress found them chuckling over the new story and thoroughly enjoying completing the assignment. Teaching win!

I have been tutoring a fifth-grade student in writing for just over a month now. Today we worked for longer than our previous sessions, as a paper on one of the 13 colonies is due on Monday. Not only did this so-called reluctant writer work for a solid hour writing (with voice typing) and researching, the (long) checklist I wrote of things to accomplish in class or over the weekend before the paper is due was met with veiled enthusiasm. One of the best kind of teaching wins!

I also met this student's parent for the first time today, as we returned to the extended day program later than has been typical. The parent reported that this student came home from school one day recently excited that he had written MORE than was expected in class that day. I credit my "formula" for writing a proper paragraph that I perfected over the 11 years I taught fifth grade. Teaching win!

Finally, I literally had a parent stop me in the hallway this afternoon to thank me for watching out for her child. This is literally the best teaching win I could ask for.

I'm still in pain from my myriad of dumb injuries... but I can truly say it has been a phenomenal week. And it's only Tuesday. Does that mean I can take the rest of the week off to nurse my injuries?

Mid-Year Musings

 So this calendar year has been a nutty mix of health issues (mine, my parents, and my in-laws) and schedule full of disruptions. One of the disruptions was an amazingly fun assembly with our local Reptile Man. Eighth graders were initially upset that they were missing P.E. for the assembly, but while they were interacting with the animals, I heard, "This is awesome!" "I love this!" and other such exclamations.

Even though we've made it to the halfway point of the school year, I'm making in-roads into better relationship with my students. This year's group is a tough crowd, with an underdeveloped sense of respect and keen minds who like to debate and argue everything from school policies to assignment instructions. Little and not so little wearing behaviors happen throughout every day: 

• I put out a new set of pencils near the sharpener, and within one class period several are broken all over the floor.
• Students helped themselves to my prize candy stash often enough I stopped buying it this year.
• Instruction is marked by students talking over teachers in every class.
• Many feel like they do not need to follow basic classroom etiquette, like sitting in assigned seats or working with their assigned groups.
• They call each other names and make snide comments that they claim are jokes.
• Several students have no ability to code-switch and stop swearing or saying inappropriate things in front of teachers (calling each other "on the spectrum" or using the n-word for example).

But during the past six weeks, my eighth graders have been overheard saying things like, "Mrs. Conrow only gets mad at us when our class is being annoying." And, "You can tell Mrs. Conrow really cares about us."

Since January we have been working through our U.S. history unit titled "Fighting for Independence," where they learn about Thomas Paine, Common Sense, and the Declaration of Independence. 

As they study the Declaration, I have them write their own complaint letters, modeled after the Declaration. It's one of my favorite assignments. Most of the letters focus on school policies like our cell phone and uniform policies or complain about homework. There's a healthy sprinkling of sibling and family dynamics too. For example, one student this year wants to be allowed to eat after 8:30pm. This year, this validating gem was part of a handful of letters complaining about peers:

Also, if real problems in the school community exist, they often come to light so the school can begin addressing them. This year, we learned to watch a specific lunch table:

There is a reason I love this job. But I also know it's incredibly challenging. That's not going to change, so evidence that I'm making a difference is always welcome.

Middle School in December

 In my school setting December dawns with the first change in grading periods. On a trimester system in a school that begins after Labor Day, the first Friday in December is the last day of the first term, making the first full week in December report card week. It also means the first two weeks of the new term are the last two weeks before a two-week break. That plus the schedule interruptions due to the time of year means content tied to a specific unit takes a back seat in December.

This year's first report card cycle was brutal. I'm 24 years into my teaching career, and every year before this, as I got into writing comments, I felt less and less overwhelmed by the process. This year was the opposite. Our new learning management system has a bit of information overload built in. I had seven fields per student per class to fill in, resulting in 838 comments to write, proof-read, and edit. The reports end up being about 30 pages long, so there's a solid chance families skimmed rather than actually read all of words I spent over ten hours composing.

On top of the report cards, high school application teacher evaluation forms were due to the front office on the same day report cards were locked. The middle school team entered the new grading term exhausted and cranky.

Planning for lessons needed to be simple in the midst of all of the above. So, I had my eighth graders chose a Revolutionary War figure (as we were between our "The Road to the Revolution" and "Fighting for Independence" units) and I tasked them with deciding whether Santa would place their chosen person on the "naughty" list or the "nice" list and to back up their claim with evidence researched from trustworthy sources. 

Then, for fun, I had them tell me what unique gift Santa might bring their historical figure. My favorite was the student who wanted to bring Benedict Arnold a time machine so he could go back and change his actions, since he expressed regret for his actions on his death bed.

After presenting their findings, students were tasked with using their research to create a meme to add to our United States history meme wall. There were many gems among them. Here are few.

The seventh graders were in transition between a unit I call "Civilizations Around the World" where we touch on empires in the Americas, Asia, and Africa and a look at the European Rennaissance. Since there was less continuity, I had them each do preliminary research on the Christmas/Advent traditions and customs of four different countries (not only can I get away with that at a Catholic school, it's encouraged) and choose one. They found a holiday recipe they thought sounded tasty and illustrated a scene showcasing at least three different holiday traditions from their chosen countries. Those who were able brought in their chosen dish to share with the class.

It was a low-key way for me to get in a Christmas celebration for them, and many of them tried new foods. Two unexpected hits were a Filipino shrimp wrap and a mash up of foods brought in from Greece and France turned into a sandwich. The kids tried new foods and conversed with their friends during our last class before the break.

In addition to all of the above, my room parents put together a Jeopardy Christmas trivia game for my students, 

we built gingerbread houses in our advisories, 

and ended the last half day before break with our annual school wide activities. The day begins with staff caroling to the students and families at drop off as they drank hot chocolate and munched on cookies. From there, we all head to the auditorium where we have our final Advent prayer service for the year before heading to our classrooms for attendance. I handed out my gift for my class, crocheted jellyfish with a poem about jellyfish and a couple of Hershey's kisses. The jellyfish became instant fidget toys (twirled around), sensory toys, (fingers shoved through the stiches), water bottle decorations, and even hats.

 

Then we separated into our school families, each with a couple of kids per grade level for one last practice before the big caroling competition. The day ends, with a grand indoor snowball fight by grade band. The middle schoolers watch and cheer on all the younger kids before getting their turn to pelt each other for fifteen minutes. 

I commented to my coworkers during the snowball fights that our students, especially those who grew up at our school and never attended anywhere else, have no idea how lucky they are. What other school comes together as one community for the entire day before Christmas break to celebrate, compete, show school spirit, and have so much fun?

Middle School Matrix

 How is it already December on Friday? While I was home sick for Thanksgiving, alone with my multitude of pets, I had a thought that began, "In October..." and I genuinely thought for a moment that October of THIS year hadn't happened yet. I don't know if that explains my lack of posting this fall or not, but this fall has been a time warp of sorts. It's gone on for years and years, but also it just started.

It's report card week. The first third of the school year ends on Friday. I've spent time over the past two or three weeks doing what I can to get my students to turn in their work or complete work they submitted incomplete, even blank in some cases. I've sent a myriad of emails with the message that I really want their report cards to show their abilities. I have end of unit projects due on Friday in most of my classes, that should be included on the first trimester report cards, which means I'll have to spend this weekend working on my report cards.  Maybe I'll be able to plan better for the end of the second trimester.

October was packed with blog worthy events, but somehow I never found the time to sit and reflect on them. We took a field trip to the Gates Foundation Discovery Center. We participated in the middle school color games, with pep rally-like activities that pitted the three grade levels against one another.  Students participated in a north African trade simulation. On Halloween the staff dressed up as Care Bears and my favorite student costume was "Lilliana Jones." The primary years Spanish teacher put up the annual Dia de los Muertos altar and we honored our deceased loved ones.

Suddenly it's the end of November.  The past couple of weeks have been a blur. Our middle school spends one day each trimester devoted to service. My advisory went to a local assisted living facility and spent a few hours raking in the morning before spending the afternoon creating Christmas gifts and Mother's Day gifts for the residents. A local author, Carl Dueker (who used to teach in my classroom) came in and gave a writing lesson to our middle schoolers. He had them write a story in small groups. Even the most reticent of my students was highly engaged.

My school has fall conference week the week of Thanksgiving. I had three conferences on Wednesday morning and had intended to meet a friend for lunch afterwards. Instead, I came home and slept. I proceeded to sleep through Thanksgiving, while the rest of my household traveled out of state to celebrate Thanksgiving and a baptism with my in-laws. I woke up on Friday with a fever. I woke up on Saturday feeling okay, but by the evening my stomach was a wreck. I slept through Sunday. And then school started again... with report card week. 

And did I mention that it's also the week the middle school teachers get together and discuss high school applications? Maybe it's time to plan a winter getaway.