The Titanic

The Titanic. What is to adults a truly epic love story is to 10 year old boys a truly epic boat. “So the boat sank?” Their incredulous eyes widen. “Yes.” Pause. “And lots of people died?” I somberly shake my head. “Cool!” After reading an abridged version of “The Titanic” in my classroom, several events followed: Kapowski tried to convince her family to cancel their 10-day Alaskan cruise, my mini-Turtle became increasingly interested in any unclaimed treasure buried in the ocean floor, and little Bleaker fell in love. Except not with Juno. With the Titanic. Over the weekend he bought a plastic replica of the ship. This model ship came complete with a crack through the stern so he could show onlookers exactly how and where the Titanic broke in half. He started to ask if he could stay in the classroom at recess. Seemingly harmless, until I happened to look over his shoulder to see him shredding up half of the tissues in my tissue box and gluing them to construction paper.
When I questioned him about this he replied, “ How else am I going to show what the crumbled stern of the Titanic looked like?”

When the students had to make a memory book of their favorite moments of the school year, Bleaker asked if he could write about, you guessed it- The Titanic. Thinking that he wanted to use the Titanic as ONE of his favorite memories, I agreed. Until I realized that each page of his memory book was devoted to different aspects of the Titanic. “Captain” was one page. “Survivors” another. I suggested that he write about one of our field trips or assemblies. He responded with, “This is the only memory I need from 5th grade.”

Then the day came. He rushes in breathlessly early one morning. “Look at this!” he thrusts a VHS tape at me. The words “Graduation ‘96” have been scratched out and replaced with “The Titanic.”
“It’s my completed masterpiece! Can you please show it to the class?”
Uh-oh. I pause, not saying much as he continues at full throttle. Telling me how it took him 4 months and two ships to complete, and a LOT of water. Oh, and how Tenenbaum has a starring role.
I gulp, and knowing how unforgiving 5th grade classmates can be, figure I better preview this movie before Bleak feels compelled to start eating his lunch with the janitor. I put the movie in and pray for all black. I hear Celine Dion and force myself to look at the screen. There is a plastic ship sitting in the bathtub, and due to some spotty editing, I can see two bottles of Pert Plus perched on the ledge. The ship must not have been moving as quickly down the tub as Bleaker would have liked, because all of a sudden you see his hand giving the ship a little shove. The scene cuts and the next thing on the screen is blue butcher paper. Celine is still singing. On a white piece of paper are the words “The Titanic.” He is moving the paper up the screen to give the “rolling credits” affect. Next white piece of paper says his name. Still rolling. “Hey!” comes a voice in the background of the movie. It’s Tenenbaum. Wanting his 15 minutes of fame, “ Are you going to put my name in the movie too?” I think we’re looking at an Oscar.

The Science Center

It’s 8:45 and I’m doing a final head count. We’ve got 72 kids, 3 teachers, 10 parents, 1 grandparent (gulp) and 2 bus drivers. All set. The drive to our destination goes surprisingly smooth; Kapowski tries to rally the bus to sing, and my mini-Turtle yells up to me that he found a quarter lodged in the back of a seat cushion. Go figure. Tenenbaum, wearing his orange shades, asks me if he thinks the science center would be interested in displaying his last year’s science project. On rodents.

Once we arrive I neurotically count heads again, and split the children up with their parent supervisors. I glance up to see one mom sending text messages on her cell phone while her group of children run ahead of her. LAWSUIT is the only word that pops into my mind. I remind the parents to meet back together in two hours, and we’re off.

Things are going surprisingly well. We’re at a hands-on science museum, which is definitely minimizing the potential for disaster. We explore and learn and I’m really giving myself kudos for planning such a great field trip. The groups meet back together and everyone is accounted for and in one piece. Even Grandma.
So now we’re headed to our next location, the museum’s IMAX movie theatre, to watch a documentary on the human body. “Learn about the circulatory and digestive systems,” the flyer had boasted. Since 5th graders study the human body, I figure I couldn’t ask for a better tie-in. “Perfect” I think, as we settle down into our seats. 45 minutes of just sitting. The kids are happily munching on popcorn, and surprisingly, no one is throwing any of it.

The movie starts, and just as expected, we watch a little boy eat an apple, and see what happens as it travels down his esophagus. I’ve finally started to relax for the first time all day, when I see an image on the screen that grabs my attention. It’s a pregnant woman. “Not to worry,” I tell myself. “I’m sure they’re going to show her eating an apple too.” But they don’t. Instead she talks about what it feels like to be pregnant. I’m starting to squirm. This WAS NOT in the brochure. “Don’t panic,” I instruct myself. But the worst it yet to come. We then hear a man’s voice booming in the background, “But where did this baby come from?” Oh no. I can’t breathe. At about 500 times their actual size, an egg and sperm are projected onto the IMAX screen. Oh, the trauma. And to think we almost saw it in 3-D. It gets even worse. As they unite on screen, a familiar voice starts to sing. It’s Marvin Gaye. Belting out, “Let’s Get It On.”
I feel a light tap on my shoulder. It’s Kapowski. “Should we be watching this?”

I bolt out of the theater. My mission is twofold. One: LUNGE at the manager. Two: Pick up a job application at the concession stand, because after today, I’m probably going to need it.

Teacher Gift #1

As a brand new teacher, the world of modern day teacher gifts was entirely foreign to me. My generation gave See’s candy and a homemade card. Times have changed. I reach for a small package wrapped in the comic section of the newspaper. The kids watch with bated breath as I undo the wrapping (which is tough considering that the newspaper is swaddled with clear masking tape.) I finally unwrap the present to discover a small box, and as I turn it right-side up, I’m stunned. Anti-wrinkle cream? And NOT the wrinkle cream that comes in the anonymous white acrylic tub, easily mistaken for face lotion. This wrinkle cream displays two pictures; one reveals a haggard old maid, who looks as though she hasn’t slept since 1971, the other flaunts a porcelain-faced Sleeping Beauty, doe-eyed after her 100 year rest. The caption reads: “Clinically proven to erase even the deepest of wrinkles!” No confusion here. The piece de resistance? The gift giver leans in and enthusiastically offers, “My grandma really loves that stuff!” A “World’s Greatest Teacher” mug isn’t looking so bad right about now…

Just Google It

The Internet. A gift to the masses that has not excluded 5th grade. Need info on the Chumash tribe? How about Magellan? Or Galileo? Look no further. The Internet has become the ONE and only resource known to kids of elementary and middle school age. They’ve never had to look up facts and figures in an Encyclopedia- even Microsoft Encarta was before their time.
Which takes us to our first oral report of the trimester. Famous Historical Americans. Tenenbaum asked if he could do the report on himself. His masterpiece entitled, “Pre-Famous Historical Americans.” I gave him a book on Ross Perot. It’s oral report day, and we’ve already listened to Betsy Ross, Martha Washington, and Thomas Jefferson. Martha’s wig fell off and according to the dates Thomas Jefferson rattled off, he died when the Beatles were still in concert, but overall, it’s been pretty uneventful…
In walks my mini-Turtle, of Entourage fame. Don’t watch? A few words…Turtle is that guy on the show. Always looking to make a quick buck. Swindling someone out of something. Obsessed with women or, in his case, the lack thereof. My mini- Turtle boasts all of these qualities compressed into a 4’1” frame. (At the beginning of each week, I ask my students about their weekend activities. Usually, I am overwhelmed with cries of “Soccer!!!” “Volleyball!” and “Grandma’s house!” Turtle’s response, EVERY week- “Just partied.”) He’s 10.
So, Turtle strolls to the front of the room. Dressed as Ronald Reagan. Even brought a poster with him, filled with pictures of Ronald and the family. Must have taken it easy on the partying last weekend. He props his poster against the white board and begins his speech. While he’s talking about Reagan’s childhood, something about his poster catches my eye. My gaze drifts and lands on a picture right in the middle. There are three people in the picture, with the caption, “Ronald, Nancy, and son, Michael.” Only it isn’t their Michael in the picture. It’s Michael Jackson, beaded sequined glove and all. Written below in even smaller print, “He was adopted.” Gotta love Google. We’ll talk Reagan family tree after recess.

Tenenbaum ’08

Tenenbaum ’08

Class elections. The buzz is in the air. Today’s the day when one lucky student will proudly wear that blue polyester cotton blend with the words, “Class President” emblazoned across the back. My candidates show up early, preparing in their respective corners. Competitor number one is busy with his calisthenics, wearing his usual monochromatic track suit and cool orange shades. He looks like an extra from The Royal Tenenbaums. While he stretches into the downwards dog pose, competitor number two is covering herself with homemade buttons, with messages ranging from “Vote for Meee!” to “Hi” and, “Don’t worry be happy.” Hmm… seems as if she does not fully understand the premise of Election Day. We’ll have to have a quick chat before we get started… She pulls out a poster with the phrase, “More Pizza Fridays” written across the top. Or at least that’s what the sign appears to say, but behind the glitter and bubble writing it’s hard to be sure. Tenenbaum sees this masterpiece and for a moment looks unnerved. He then says to no one in particular, “All I need are my words.” Let the games begin.
Tenenbaum is up first. He delivers a compelling speech about taking the student council to places they’ve never been before. And by the looks of it, places they never WANT to go. Little Kelly Kapowski takes the floor, but before she can even begin, Tenenbaum’s hand shoots up. I call on him and immediately want to take it back when I realize what the look in his eyes means. “Before this candidate begins,” he starts, “I was wondering if absences should be taken into consideration when voting.” My class looks up with a mixture of annoyance and confusion. They have yet to understand the power of the counter-attack. Huh….I’m impressed. Tenenbaum did his research. “What?” Miss Kapowski looks down, and as she does I follow her glance and stop when I get to her arms. Which are currently broken. Both of them. Both in pink casts. She has been absent about 10 times this year. It’s September. I usher Tenenbaum to his seat, and let Kapowski continue.
Voting Time. The kids put their heads down. They can vote only once. Tenenbaum is the first candidate. I announce his name. His is the only hand that goes up. He must realize that there are no telltale signs that students are voting; no shifting in chairs, no stirring. He gets desperate. I wait to see if any students raise their hands. Sensing the end is near, Tenenbaum makes a rash decision. He extends his leg, and gives a swift kick to the girl across the table from him. Before I can object, her hand slowly goes up. I’m running a mini-mafia.

The Runner

It’s 9:15 a.m. on a Tuesday and I am running. What I should be doing is teaching a grammar lesson, taking away origami turtles, and downing my coffee- but I’m RUNNING. I’m running after my self-proclaimed school-phobic. While some kids are scared of the dark or roller coasters, she is scared of school, and makes a beeline for the free country every morning. What fun. Gotta get the cardio in somehow. Some days she’s faster than others, and today she’s especially quick. I’m in heels and a somewhat restricting skirt, and I’m gasping for air as onlookers in the park are giving me odd stares as this 10-year old is screaming, “Get away from me!” I seriously don’t get paid enough. She’s about to dart across a busy intersection, so I really have to make a power play. “If you come back and stay, ” I say in my nicest teacher voice, “we can spend some time doing the things you like.” She pauses. “Can I try on your shoes?” We head back. I’m barefoot. Just another day in 5th grade.

The Setup

I work in a world where napkins with notes trump blackberries and laptops. Where Hannah Montana is Queen of All and recess is revered. Like the real world, you’ve got your overachievers and your under-enthusiasts. Your criers and your tough guys. The know-it-alls and the slackers. The difference, however, is that here, a good trade does not involve high-yield stocks or bonds, but an Oreo two-pack in exchange for Flaming Hot Cheetos. Mechanical pencils and putty erasers are as impressive in this world as Christian Louboutin shoes or a Lamborghini may be in yours. Get ready, because what you’re about to hear are the (true) confessions of a 5th grade teacher…..