When To Give Up

Here's another post that could be controversial. Depends which
side of the educational fence you are on. And I don't mind one bit
to end a sentence with a preposition, or start a sentence with and.
Or use sentence fragments. But that's not what this post is about.

At our Inservice yesterday, we got into a discussion of how much
we should try to help the kids who don't respond or make any effort.
We talked about a plan to hold middle school kids accountable for
their grades. They don't have the joy of learning found in elementary
kids, and we can't hold credits over their heads like we do with the
high school kids.

The sample plan is an afterschool program for kids failing two or
more core classes. They would have to go twice a week, from 3:00
to 5:00. One teacher would supervise. Core teachers would come
in for 30 minutes each day. Transportation home would be provided.
Those who don't show up as scheduled would receive in-school
suspension. Sounds good, right? But we were asked to play the
Devil's Advocates. To think of arguments why this program might
not fly.

Devil One pointed out that teachers should not have to stay after
school to raise other people's children. It has become a never-ending
task. We feed them breakfast, lunch, and supper. When are we
supposed to raise our families? Our kids go to bed at 8:00 pm. If
we work until 5:00, then we have to drive home, make supper,
check homework, give baths, etc. Why should we have to take
time away from our own kids? Many people entered teaching not
only to help kids, but to have time to raise their own families.

Devil Two said that the program would entail a lot of teacher hours
for the same few kids who are always going to refuse to do work.
As an example, suppose this was a military operation. Why should
we risk 25 men to save two? Especially when the two may not even
want to be saved, and if saving them was virtually impossible. What
if the odds that the two coming back to the world and leading lives
productive to society were almost zero? Why risk all that manpower?


Devil Three asked how many kids we have who would rather be
at school than at home. At school they would get attention. At home,
there may not even be anyone else there. Would some kids continue
to fail just so they could get attention after school?

Devil Four said that the teacher would be nuts by 5:00, what with
having 3 grade levels and 4 subject areas, which means possibly
12 different lessons to help with. (Hey, I do that every day. And
we all know I'm looney. But you get used to it.)

Devil Five questioned that since no late work is accepted, how
can students progress without a foundation in the subject (such as
math or language) when the teacher will be too busy to give remedial
tutoring?

Devil Six pointed out that this task should not be wished on your
worst enemy. It will be like a detention camp, because the kids will
be the ones who refuse to work in the normal classroom setting. Why
would they be good after school with one teacher, and all of their
trouble-making cronies to entertain?

Devil Seven said that it is unfair to expect teachers to do this for no
compensation. A few are on Career Ladder, and can use the hours.
Others have not taught long enough to be on Career Ladder. Why
should they have to do it for free?

Devil Eight pointed out that we already have programs to help the
kids who are behind. It is not our fault they do not respond. We
had tutoring 4 days a week after school last year, but the kids didn't
come. Teachers offer bonus work regularly, but the kids won't do
it. Why should we give them another chance that they won't take
advantage of?

Devil Nine asked if the school board would support the decision
if the student who had to attend on a game night was a star athlete.

Devil Ten asked if the teachers who gave a higher percentage of
failing grades would be questioned about their teaching methods.
What if the teachers lowered their standards, just so they wouldn't
have so many kids failing, so they wouldn't have to stay after to help?

Devil Eleven said, "I will do it if everyone else agrees that we should.
I would never refuse to do my part of the job, because it means that
another one of my colleagues would have to take up my slack."

So where should we draw the line? We can not save every student.
Society can not rehabilitate every criminal. A certain percentage are
just not going to fit into the mold. At what point should we cut our
losses and concentrate on the borderline kids who will make an
effort? How much more grease should we put on these squeaky
wheels? How many chances should they get? How many man-
hours should we devote to them?

As you can see, some good points were made. We are very good
at being Devils.

Who Is Special?

Here is one where I will step on some educational toes. Put on your
steel-toed boots, baby. I've worked myself into a rant.

We had a Teachers' Inservice Day today, with a guest speaker on
Special Education. She was very good. She believed in what she
was saying. She was a great advocate for the kids. She knew the
law. She raised some questions with me.

I have been a regular classroom teacher. I have taught elementary
PE through high school physics. And that was just in one school.
I have had my share of Special Education students. I have taught
PE to autistic students. One had no idea what she was doing, but
she was game. As long as she could sing her little song, she would
let us help her bat in softball, and fit in pretty well. This was 6th
grade, and the other students were very protective of her.

In the same school, I had an autistic 2nd grade boy. He functioned
a little better, but had great trouble with transitions. And he always
wore brown pointy-toed cowboy boots. Many a day my shins were
kicked by those boots, because he wouldn't want to come in from
PE. He would cry or scream like someone was murdering him while
kicking away at me. He had no aide (excuse me, paraprofessional,
with him). I had no choice but to pull him down the hall like a water-
skier. Hey, he had ahold of my arm, trying to pull me back outside. I
couldn't leave him or the other kids alone, so when we went in, he got
a ride down the hall powered by the SS Hillbilly Mom. I'm sure there
was a better way to handle it, but I did not know of one.

I also taught middle school science at another school, and had
seven BD students mainstreamed into my 7th hour class. Yeah,
7th hour. Most of them had never even had science before. That
is what gets left out, what with the reading and math and special
classes and all. But I had to have them all together so the self-
contained BD teacher could get her prep time. Sucked to be me.
Or the other students in that 7th hour science class.

So here is my gripe. At what point do we worry about the other
kids? The average kid who needs a fair shot at the teacher's
attention. Our speaker pointed out that some of her kids function
on the level of a 1- or 2-year-old. Someone asked why they are
allowed to go to school. Shouldn't they be functioning at the level
of a 5-year-old to attend? Nope. They have the legal right to attend
if they are chronologically 5 years old. She said she has kindergarten
and first grade. Only 4 of her 12 students are potty-trained. That
is one of her main goals for them, to be able to use the bathroom
by themselves by the time they get to high school.

I know parents want what is best for their kid. Our speaker said
she had an IEP meeting with 27 people present. About 7 of them
were lawyers. People know their rights, she told us. But at what
point do their rights infringe on others rights?

Here is my gripe. I have a kid who is gifted. Oh, but our school
had to cut out the gifted teacher due to budget problems. So for
four years now, no one has been tested for the gifted class. They
offered an after-school program for gifted, and my boy went two
days a week. But now they have only 2 students who were tested
and identified as gifted. So they are letting students into the after-
school program who have been recommended by their teachers.
My boy wants none of that. He says if they are letting anyone in,
it will not mean anything.

More of my gripe...How much do we spend on the other end of
the spectrum? We have Title I Reading and Title I Math. We have
MR and LD and BD and At-Risk and IEPs and 504s for others
who don't fit neatly into those categories. We have an after-school
remedial program that even serves supper. But where is the money
to help MY kid? Why should he be kept working at the level of the
"average" students? I have never told him his IQ, but it is definitely
above average. I will mention it a little later. I don't want him to see
it if he walks in while I'm typing this. When he was 9, he was reading
at 11th grade ninth month level. But they didn't have any books at the
elementary library for him. So he read 4th grade books for his
STAR Reader or Accelerated Reader or whatever it was that
they take computerized tests on. Sorry I don't know that elementary
reading program lingo. But he was consistently in the 99th percentile
and was not challenged at all.

Lucky for me he's a self-motivated kid. He was constantly on his
computer at home (when he wasn't taking it apart) looking up
stuff like the space-time continuum or reading technical computer
stuff. I got him subscriptions to computer magazines. But don't
you think that when a kid tests at one forty-eight, he should get
some type of special help to reach his potential? Maybe you don't.
But I do.

So don't go boohooing how these other kids need inclusion and
mainstreaming and least restrictive environment, or remediation to
get their test scores up, while leaving MY child to his own devices
to educate himself when he must be dying a slow death of
boredom on the inside while the school days slip away without
anybody shedding one little tear about helping him achieve his
potential. Is it fair to help one end of the spectrum but not the
other? Oh, but life isn't fair, is it?

He doesn't want me to make a big deal about this. He says, "Mom,
that will just make them take it out on me. Don't say anything."

Yeah, we have No Child Left Behind. Why can't we have
No Child Kept Behind.

These People Are Nuts

I have had some odd encounters in the last few days. Let the games
begin, shall we?

Exhibit A: My Hillbilly Mama.
She does everything for me. She changed her plans so she could
pick up my kids and take them to the doctor on Monday and Tuesday.
She is keeping them all day tomorrow because school is out for an
inservice day. Today, she had to do my sister's dirty work...pick up
medicine for her 16-year-old daughter. The doctor told her it is over-
the-counter medicine, but that they might question her.

So why am I saying she's nuts? She called me at my lunchtime (have
I mentioned that it's at 10 freakin' 40 am?) and said she has never
been so embarrassed. She had to pick up some Drixoral at Walmart.
They demanded her driver's license. They may or may not have taken
a picture. She was kind of flustered. "I don't look very good today.
I haven't fixed my hair and it's all frizzy. I must look like one of those
people who makes the meth."

Exhibit B: Student
If I don't do any work at all and move, will the school send my missing
work to the new school?
No. But they will send your grades of 0% with your transcripts.
Oh. Why would they need that?
Because they average them with the work you won't do there.
Well, my brother did it, and that's the only way he graduated. They
never asked for his records.
That sounds odd. I have never heard of a school that doesn't want the
records and credits from the previous school.
If I move to another country, will they ask for my transcripts?
I don't know. Depends on the country, I guess.
(Note: never, ever, ask the country, because the answer will always,
always be "Amsterdam.")

Exhibit C: Student
Do you know those speed bumps over at the elementary school?
Yes, I am familiar with them. I drop my kids off there every day.
Well, my bus driver goes over them too fast, and it bounces us
around. I think it broke my rib.
I don't think the bus could have bounced enough to break your rib.
One time, I was riding a 4-wheeler too fast, and I knocked some
ribs out of place.
I don't think ribs can come out of place. They are attached.
Well, the doctor said they were out of place, and he stood behind
me and reached his arms around my arms, and popped them back
in place.
Maybe that was a chiropractor adjusting a spinal disc.
No, it was my ribs that popped out of place.

Exhibit D: Student
My grandpa had something wrong with his eyes one time. They
kept getting red and swelling shut. His doctor said he might have
Cat's Eye.
What is Cat's Eye?
It's when you have a lot of cats, and a piece of cat hair gets stuck
up under your eyelid, and you don't even know it's there.

Exhibit E: Student
Hey, do you know so-and-so?
Yes, I know who she is.
She's quitting school in two weeks.
Thanks for sharing.
On the last day, she's going to start a food fight during lunch.
Good to know.
Don't tell Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, stupid!
Too late. I've already got the secret information.

Bwahaha! Give them enough rope....

Sorry, Hillbilly Mama, for calling you "nuts." It is not referred to as
the meth, Mom. It is methamphetamine, or just meth. Not the meth.
Maybe tomorrow we will have a lesson about the pot. And if Sis
tells you she needs you to buy some cigarette papers for her son,
just say no.

My New Enemy

I have now let SBC off the hook for telling me nothing was wrong
with my phone and dragging out repairs for 2 weeks. They came
back a couple Saturdays ago and buried my new phone line in
its shallow grave. There were two guys who did it. They were
not wearing shirts. It was a good look for them.

My new enemy is UPS. The Unqualified People Shipping company.
With the little brown truck. Every time I get a package through them,
it is crushed and has been opened. WTF? At first, I thought maybe
Amazon recycled their used boxes. But that does not explain why
every package has been opened and taped back together. And not
very well, I might add. I could do a better job if I was snooping in
people's stuff. What gives? Only two things have ever been missing
in the last 5 years. One DVD never arrived at all, and the other had
a book missing from the box.

















Here is the latest pain in my a$$. It has been crushed and it has
been opened. I took several pictures in case I get into a dispute
with Walmart.com. You're dying to know what's in it, aren't you?
Should I make you wait until Christmas? Oh, OK. It's a scale.
Not an everyday spring scale. A $60 electronic scale. I do not
claim to be an expert on scales, but I do not think an electronic
scale should be subjected to such rough treatment. I haven't
opened it yet. There may not even be scales inside. It may be
that "Fitty" has given up on the 55-gallon barrels and is now
shipping body parts through UPS.

See, the whole reason for this scale is that we have a regular
spring scale, but it is not quite accurate. That is because my
hillbilly children see a spring scale, and think: Hey, a trampoline!
Watch me! Listen to it rattle! This is like that hammer thing at
the Labor Day Picnic! You know, the one where you hit it as
hard as you can, and see how high that thing goes! Look! I can
make myself weigh over 100! Shhh...here comes Mom! Get
off! Act like we weren't doing anything! And that is why this
scale is accurate within 12-15 pounds. It depends on where you
set it, and which way you lean.

















These Unqualified People Shipping need to perfect their thieving
techniques. At least take off the whole piece of tape and replace
it. Don't try to sneak a peek and then drape the tape back almost
where it goes. Helloooo! I can see where you've ripped off the
cardboard with the tape. Try slitting the tape with a box cutter,
and then taping over it. That won't be as obvious.

I think I will order some honey bees. Do you think they would
escape if the box was opened?

Jeepers, Creepers, Shut Up About Them Peepers!

Yesterday was quite a day. At 10:30 the elementary school nurse
called to tell me that #1 son had been sitting outside her office for
30 minutes complaining that his eye hurt. Fine. I can't just jump up
and go get him. I had to wait until lunch, which I might or might not
have mentioned before, comes at 10 freakin' 40 am.

My Hillbilly Mama, our emergency plan, our personal shopper,
our surrogate caregiver, our indispensable go-to gal, had driven
to another county with her old lady friend to get a load of wood.
Because apparently the wood in our county isn't good enough for
them. And it is worth spending more on gas than on the price of
the wood.

So I had to pick up my own child from school, and bring him with
me for an hour, and then HM could get him and take him to the
doctor. After much squirting of the orange drops and rolling back
of the upper eyelid, the doctor discovered that there wasn't really
anything wrong. No scratched cornea. No conjunctivitis. But just
in case, she would give him two prescriptions: an antibiotic, and
an antihistamine. One is 3 drops four times a day. That means I
get to drive to the elementary during my lunch and torture the boy.

Oh, I might not have mentioned that I saw #1's eye was swelled
halfway shut when I took him to school. But hey, it wasn't red,
and it wasn't crusty. I thought maybe he whacked it on my fist, or
had something in it. And he did say that it felt like something was
in it. I figured the nurse could take a look at it. And when I accosted
her getting out of her car that morning, I said that if she needed to
send him home, I'd take him now, or need to know by 9:30.

Well, this morning, #2 son got up with a very small corner of his
eye looking kind of bloodshot. Since he hadn't been on a bender
the night before, I thought he must have rubbed it. I took him to
school, and it looked OK. What did stupid Hillbilly Mom tell the
boy? Let's say it together now: "Don't rub your eye." Of course,
the minute he climbed out of the car, he was rubbing a knuckle
into the eye socket.

That's right. The nurse called at 10:15 today about #2. Seems
that both eyes are red. Did I notice it this morning? You bet I
did. But I have duty selling tickets at the Middle School volleyball
game after school, and I can't be taking off to run him to the doctor.
Hillbilly Mama pulled through for me. She got him an appointment
after school, and picked him up. HooRah! Hillbilly Mama! I don't
know what I'd do without you. Probably raise my own family.

The doctor said #2 has an allergic reaction. The cure? Eyedrops.
So now I have whiny watery-eyed kids. I preferred them swollen
and red, without the whining.

Two doctor's visits: $40. Three prescriptions: $58. The assistance
of my Hillbilly Mama: a value far above rubies or pearls. In fact, I
could almost forgive her for only filling half of my pain prescription
when I had knee surgery. Almost.

Emmy and Some Stuff

I am a sucker for an awards show, so I camped out in front of the
Emmys for 4 hours last night. What's with the E! pre-show? That
Giuliana chick was cramping Kathy Griffin's style. Is that heifer
Star Jones so pissed off at Kathy that she can't even say, "Back
to you, Kathy?" I only saw an hour of this, so maybe I'm wrong.
I used to like Star Jones, but now she's messin' with my Kathy
Griffin, who is much funnier, and doesn't take herself so seriously.

I don't watch a lot of TV shows that were nominated, so I didn't
really care who won. But here are some opinions and comments.

How much did Doris Roberts pay someone to make this the
"Everybody Loves Doris" show? From the beginning, they had
her on camera dancing with an Earth, Wind, or Fire. They kept
cutting to her reactions.When she took her grandsons on stage
to accept her award, I thought she was drunk on her a$. She
slurred her words. Then I thought, well, maybe she just happened
to have some dental work done on the evening of the Emmys,
because hey, I have liked Doris Roberts since back in the day
when she was Mildred on Remington Steele. I called my Hillbilly
Mama on commercials to snark. I told her Doris looked drunk
to me, and she said, "Oh, my." Well, lo and behold, later when
the whole Raymond crew was up on stage, Ray made some
comment and ol' Doris replied, "That's because I've been drunk
since the wrap party." Told ya so, told ya so, told ya told ya
told ya so! (Doing Grace's dance.) Art immitates life. Ray knew
for 10 years she was a lush, and worked it into his routine.

I was very disturbed that not only did the guest appearance
Emmy winners not get to accept and give their thanks on the
program--they were expected to present awards to others.
That is just so wrong. My poor Ray Liotta deserved better.
Ray Liotta. The man who never ages. Who walks like something
is stuck to his leg.

Also disturbing was that Jeffersons "Movin' on Up" song sung
by Macy Gray. What's up with that? She didn't just look drunk.
She looked stoned out of her mind. Now, I am not a Macy Gray
fan, and don't know much about her. Does she always look like
that? That is one song that I would think the two people singing
it would look at each other. Nope. She looked down, or off to
the side. That Gary CSI guy grabbed her by the wrist near the
end. Then as soon as it was over, Macy yanked free and stalked
off. What's the deal? Am I the only one who noticed this?

And my final gripe...Why did they have to annouce "Felicity
Huffman is married to Emmy winner William H. Macy" when
she won? So what are they insinuating, that she couldn't have
won if she wasn't married to him? Have they announced something
like this for anybody else? I thought it was demeaning. It took
away her glory for winning.

Good job, Ellen. Let her host the Oscars. At least she is funny.
But what do I know, I liked David Letterman when he hosted.
The most unfunny guy who has ever hosted has to be Billy Crystal.
I do not think he is one little bit funny. I couldn't stand him on
Saturday Night Live (the pitiful years) and I can't stand him now.

And now, here is my favorite bit of Emmy-related trivia. Years
ago, Susan Lucci hosted Saturday Night Live. It was like her
13th Emmy nomination, and she had lost. The whole cast and
crew tried not to talk to her about it. Yet everywhere she turned
were the Emmy statues. David Spade was using them as cob-
holders to eat corn-on-the-cob. Kevin Nealon had one on a
gold chain around his neck. A crew member was using one to
hammer something with. Jan Hooks used one to prop up a short
leg on her make-up table. Susan Lucci was a good sport about
it. It was hilarious. Maybe you can see it on one of the E! reruns
of SNL. I think it was in the early 1990s.

And there you have it, my review of the Emmys. Because I am
so very qualified to comment on the entertainment industry.
All hail Hillbilly Mom, Redneck Connoisseurr of all things TV!

Sunday Shopping

Today's shopping trip was not too eventful. #1 son and I took off
for Wal-mart, leaving #2 under the not-so-watchful eye of Hillbilly
Husband. The kid was wearing jeans, flip-flops, and no shirt when
I left. It was 62 degrees. (Fahrenheit, Rebecca. We are not on the
surface of the sun, just in the northern hemisphere.) That kid has a
fashion style all his own.

We found some carpet remnants for $6.99. They will be good for
the boys to sit on playing GameCube this winter, on the cold tile
floor of the basement. Then we browsed the CDs for some old
country music, because I watched CMT last night, the 100 Greatest
Duets or some such thing. That always puts me in the mood for some
old country music. We got a little Loretta Lynn, Conway Twitty,
and George Jones.

The grocery shopping part wasn't so much fun. It becomes tedious
after doing it every week for my whole freakin' life. I really hate
Wal-mart.

We made a detour to Hillbilly Mama's house so #1 could fix her
computer. The connection had come loose between the monitor
and whatever it hooks to. HM wasn't there. She's a good church-
goin' woman. We hung around until she got home so #1 could show
her his new haircut. He had to buy some spray gel at Wal-mart so
he can stand it up in front.

#1 son went to a little girl's birthday party yesterday. She was 11.
He was the only boy invited. She's had a crush on him since
first grade. At Thanksgiving that year, the teacher had them
stand up and say something they were thankful for. She stood up
and said, "I'm thankful that I'm in love with #1." He denies it now.
I told him I hoped there really was a party, because his invitation
was written in pencil on a folded piece of notebook paper. He
said he had a good time, except when the girls put ice down his
shirt. I said it was a button-down shirt, didn't the ice just fall out
the bottom? Oh, no, he said. He was wearing his GameBoy belt
(fanny-pack) and the ice got stuck. Sucks to be a nerd sometimes,
I guess.

Next we were off to Sonic. I could tell by the voice at the drive-thru
that my boy-man was working. I ordered a Large Cherry Diet Coke
and a large cup of ice. He repeated the order back, and said "That'll
be $1.50." What? It's supposed to be $1.83. I thought maybe he
misunderstood, and was giving me a medium soda. But then again,
I remembered how he always gives me special treatment, what with
wanting to get some and all. We pulled up to the window, and he
reached out his hand for the money. I gave him a dollar and five dimes.
He shook his head and said, "You always want to give me too much
money! It was $1.07." He gave me back the change. Then he gave
me a Large Cherry Diet Coke, and a Route 44 cup of ice. Yep. He's
still burning with the "gotta-get-me-some-Hillbilly-Mom-itis" fever.
It probably didn't help matters that we had put in the Conway Twitty
CD, and were playing "I'd Just Love to Lay You Down." Anyhoo,
this little interaction just made my day. And I saved about a dollar.

Can't beat that with a stick--a little flirtin' and a little savin' go a long
way with an old hillbilly hag.