Rubberband Man

I don't blog much about my school. I guess its because compared to my Boston school, nothing notable really happens. Until Wednesday...

It was a quiet day at school. Students were back in their routines from the extra long winter break. I was teaching a group of 10 kids who are getting a little extra math to help prepare them for Algebra. This particular class has a few too many boys in it which means they are a little silly. Not bad, just silly. We've worked out a system where each students starts with 10 minutes of game time at the end of class, and they lose a minute every time I have to correct them. My buddy... let's call him Dizzle (as a tribute to "Modern Family"... don't talk black to me! ) had already burned through SEVEN of his minutes.

I was standing at the board, writing some important math, when I felt a little tap on my collar. And then I saw the rubberband on the floor and said, "I just got hit by a rubberband." I thought for a minute and realized in all my years in Boston, I had never been hit with anything (and those kids were exponentially more rambunctious). So I said to the darling kiddos, "I can't decide whether I think this is funny or if I should be mad..." And I thought some more, and decided that for the time being, it was pretty funny. Meanwhile, most of my class is sitting nicely while Dizzle is vehemently denying his involvement in the rubberband flinging. We went on with the lesson...

One of the fun fancy things at my school is a system that allows me to make up a multiple choice question, project it on the board and students can select an answer with a remote control. So I made a question saying, "Who shot Mrs. Scott with a rubber band?" with all of their names listed as possible answers.

I looked at them with my teacher face (it's frightening) and told them they had to answer one question before class was over, and they had to be absolutely silent. They sat quietly and clicked their answers in. After secretly viewing the results, I told them I knew the identity of the culprit, and that student needed to stay after and discuss their actions with me. (LIE. Dizzle was in the lead with 40% of the votes... but quite a few other kids got votes too. Inconclusive data. I'm so tricky.)

I waited as the kids filed out of the class, sure someone would own up to the crime. Sure enough, Dizzle, sadly, walked up to me and confessed. He swore he wasn't aiming for me, someone had just dared him to shoot the whiteboard. Punk. I told him that he wasn't in trouble because he stayed after and told the truth (and I was still highly entertained by the fact that I was shot by a rubberband). The poor kid is perpetually in trouble anyway. I'll get him for something else...

I love middle schoolers.