My student wrote "workshit" in her assignment notebook again today. . . So I told her that the "i" is actually a "double e". Thank goodness she is not up on English cuss words, so she has no clue what I laugh about when I read her assignments.
Cuss words seem to be a theme this week in 4th grade... I need to give you some background information before I tell you what else was said today:
Two girls were working on their Chinese Writing exhibit, and one wrote "Sing Your Name"... switching the "g" and "n" around. I went over to their table and sang "Miss Siscoe!" They looked at me funny, and I pointed to their sign. One girl turns to the other and says "I told you so!" So the girl who spelled it wrong begins to sing her name in different styles... First, she says "Miss Siscoe, this is opera style!" "Miss Siscoe, this is rock and roll style!" Then a boy joins in the conversation and demonstrates his style before telling us what the style is. He made farting noises for each letter of his name... what else do boys do afterall? Then he declares (for the whole class and hallway to hear) "It's faulk style!" (It's hard to spell what he said... It reminds me of the pronunciation of "Meet the Faulkers".... you know what word it plays on.) I looked at him, eyebrows raised. His eyebrows raised pretty fast also when he realized what he had said... And then he says "Uh... Faulk is a combination of Fart and Rock!" Greeeeeat....
Oh, and our school is being painted this week -- WHILE SCHOOL IS IN SESSION. As soon as the students leave at 2:30, so do the painters. I have already built a rather frustrating relationship with these men trying to explain why my door needs to stay locked when I am not there... and these conversations have often ended in tears for me and exasperated looks from them. (Ha, they probably think I'm crazy.) SO, today at 2:15, one painter decides it would be a great time to paint both doors and surrounding woodwork... Now, picture 15 minutes later, students leaving, backpacks and projects in tow, and me trying to babysit these wet doors. I had paint on my clothes, my elbows, and a few students had paint on their backpacks. As a tico student left, he tells the painter (now down the hallway, missing all the wet paint action) that I have paint all over me. This poor painter comes running down the hall, turpentine rag in hand, and he hands the rag to me to clean off my elbows. He was very concerned about my clothes, but I just said "Esta bien! No preocupados!" I didn't know what else to say because our communication is already so ... frustrating. Whatever, it's just a dress and a funny frustration story.