I Love My Job.

Although I quite literally feel like my fight might actually just fall off of my legs.
Today I wore a skirt and Dansko sandals which I've always thought peg me as at least 50% old-lady- and as I'm passing something out one of my boisterous female students notices- "Oooh, Ms. Craven be wearin' heels- with her pink toenails...!" The boy who asked me for my phone number on the first day slowed his flirtations today- especially after I had to confiscate not just one, but two of his smiley-face erasers.
My students are amazing. Energetic, skeptical, and my eighth graders lowered they're "I'm-too-cool" shield just a smidgen today to participate in our discussion about malleable intelligence and what that means for us and our school's low test scores.
I feel so lucky to be teaching writing because through their short paragraphs I learn about their lives. Students have already written about family members dying, memories of Katrina, and tales of accomplishment. (It's sad how many students wrote about passing a previous grade as one of their greatest accomplishments.)
The general vibe from grown-ups about middle schools in general is that they're the equivalent of "the trenches." Muddy and dangerous, you're just lucky to come out alive. People I meet out and about in the community constantly pull out the "you should be given a medal" line, which is really frustrating to hear. If more people just got to know the educational system they would realize that it's hardly the confused, hormonal 13 year olds who are the problem. Too many people just shake their heads and make a face, never considering that things could in fact change.
(Maybe I should bust out my malleable intelligence lesson for them!)
I give exit tickets to the kids to see if they can explain one or two key points from the lesson to get a gauge of what they understood. In my 2nd period class 23 of them wrote something we talked about, and one honest boy wrote "I don't really know what we talked about." It made me laugh- but how great is that really- now I know to follow up with him, and make sure he gets back on track.
If you see a few extra hours of daylight layin' around, send 'em my way.

P.S. I say "ya'll" now all the time.