Fifth-Grader Kills Off Aliens

As a teacher's assistant working with third, fourth and fifth-graders, I'm very wary of dogs, aliens and unavoidable tragedies of epic proportions. 

Approximately 30-some odd years ago, when I was in fifth grade, all my friends, neighbors and I owned homework-eating dogs. These dogs look like any other dogs. They are only identifiable by being caught in the act. This also poses a problem since they very rarely are.

Regardless, my homework was targeted by these dogs more so than either of my sisters. Perhaps because I did so much of it. Maybe mine was tastier. Whatever the reason, it was most unfair how often I came to class empty handed because of that nefarious dog.

Even worse than the dogs in those days were the aliens! They buzzed around like scavenging mosquitoes. They took anything that wasn't nailed down like, for example, my homework. Imagine that.

Those aliens weren't picky, either. Besides homework, they took house keys, car keys, money, dog leashes, books, pencils, paper... You name it. They took it.

As if the dogs and the aliens weren't enough, we also had tragedies of epic proportions in those days. You know the kind. These are the inexplicable events that just randomly occur that cause homework sucking vortexes to materialize out of thin air. There's no explaining them.

Honestly, it was a miracle that I ever even finished high school. The amount of time I spent guarding the work I did left me with little time to do it. Despite my due diligence, I was not able to protect the amazing amount of homework that I produced!

This, of course, explains my dismay to my fifth-grader's response concerning her lost math packet last Monday. I stopped her and asked if she had found it.

"Umm," she said. "No, Mr. Haworth."

"Holy shmoly," I exclaimed. "Was it eaten by a dog?"

"We don't have a dog, Mr. Haworth," she said, and giggled.

"Aliens," I said. "It must have been aliens! They took it, right?"

"There's no aliens, Mr. Haworth," she replied.

I stood there a moment, stunned.

No aliens? No homework-eating dogs? Her casual comments killed them off quickly and efficiently. I simply didn't have the heart to allow her to kill off the tragedies of epic proportions. Despite her predicted reaction to these tragedies, I am certain that they still exist somewhere in this world. 

God Vacations in New York?

It seems that I have taken a wrong turn in my life. Instead of being a first grade teacher assistant, I should have been a fourth grade assistant, or perhaps teacher. Or, perhaps not.

My wife recently got a job as a fourth grade teacher at a somewhat local elementary school. Every once and again, she'll bring home papers to grade. Ultimately, I will end up helping with the grading process.

They recently read the book "Dear Mrs. LaRue" by Mark Teague. The assignment? Each one had to write a paper by finishing the sentence "If I was Ike, I would have escaped to..."

In the book, Ike, the dog, escapes from obedience school. He travels all over the place before coming back home. These fourth-graders, though, have some better ideas than Ike of where they would go and what they would do.

Several kids hearts were in the right place and said they would escape to go back home and be with their families. Several others, however, looked towards food first. Two of them would have escaped to Burger King. One would escape to Biscuitville and another was planning to get to Cook Out.

There were several places mentioned, like Chicago, New Jersey, New York and Mexico. And from there, it only gets better. Or worse, depending on your point of view.

After the initial layover in New York, one fourth-grader planned to find a space ship. Why? Well, as he said, his problems would be a planet away. Besides, he planned to meet aliens, get a job and find a house somewhere out there.

One boy simply made a list of all the places he would visit. They included, in this order, the beach, Mexico, the moon, New York (to meet God), the past and the future. The last, of course, would be with the time machine that he made himself.

The best response, though, was the sweet little one who would have escaped to Hawaii ("Howaye"). Why Hawaii? Basically because "almost nobody lives thier and thiers is no police..." He goes on to mention something about surfing and cool cars available to steal. I'm beginning to understand the interest in the lack of police presence!

Police or no police, he said he will take -- my word, not his -- the fastest car he can find so no one will be able to catch him anyway. That way he can get to his secret house that no one knows about so he can live happily ever after, or so I assume.

Nice plan. I have seen the future generation, dear readers. I am scared.

First-Graders Can Be a Little Scary

Life is still crazy as a first grade teachers assistant. The workload still keeps me busy (luckily), my coworkers are still cool and the kids can still make me laugh.

Sometimes they scare me, too. Nothing strikes fear in my heart like the phrase, "I think you're confused, Mr. Haworth."

I must say, it is quite amazing how observant those little six and seven year-olds can be.

"You got a haircut, Mr. Haworth," one student told me recently.
"Why, thank you for noticing," I said to her.
"I couldn't help but notice, Mr. Haworth," she responded. "You needed it pretty bad!"

There are other times when my students are spot on and I would do well to be more observant myself!

"What," my student said.
"What do you need, buddy?" I responded.
"What Mr. Haworth," he said.
"I said, what is it," I asked, keeping my cool.
He said 'what' one more time, giving the word a little more emphasis. The girl beside him began to giggle.
"The word on the the flashcard is 'what,' Mr. Haworth," she said.
Well, it turned out the flashcard word was 'what.' That was not the same word that was on the back of the card. As I flipped through the cards, I discovered all the cards had different words on the fronts and backs.

Score: kids, one; teacher assistant, zip.

Who knew the upside-down words on the backs of the cards weren't the same as the words on the fronts of the cards?! Go figure!

The bad news is that, with this being my second year at the school, a large portion of the second-graders remember me from last year!

"Oooh Mr. Haworth," said one of my first-graders from last year. "You got a haircut! It looks better than that time you spiked it!"
"Mr. Haworth has never spiked his hair," I told him.
"Actually," a teacher behind me said, "it seemed pretty spiky last year when you got that really bad haircut."

Funny, I'm not sure if I mentally blocked that experience out or if I just plain forgot about it. Regardless, I believe the current score comes to kids, two; teacher assistant, still zip.

Recalibrating Calendars Pose a Problem

I have to admit, I would be remiss if I didn't share a blog about my "day" job at the local elementary school where I work as a first grade teacher's assistant. While I feel I usually handle 'bumps' and 'hiccups' smoothly, the last few days have been a little less than smooth for me.

We all have 'off' days where we don't seem to get it right and the harder we try, the less we get right. Tuesday, which was really Wednesday, was one of those days for me.

Calendar math is really a straightfoward kind of thing. We go over our calendar together, how many days we've been in school, the monthly and weekly pattern, weather and coins, straws, throw some fun math in there and, presto, calendar math! Unfortunately, the presto wasn't quite there yesterday.

When I do calendar math, I always start out with the current date. The girl I called on told me it was Wednesday, Oct. 10, 2012. I had to explain to her that it was Tuesday, not Wednesday. Then she contradicted me. I stuck to my guns, so to speak.

"Uh, Mr. Haworth," said another student, coming to her aid. He simply pointed at the calendar.

It seems I may have hit the recalibrate button on the calendar. I suddenly noticed that my pointer was pointing at Wednesday and it was indeed Oct. 10, 2012. How a paper calendar can recalibrate itself is beyond my comprehension. However, one of my other teacher's calendar seemed to be suffering the same malady.

Also, I have finally reached the point where I have learned all my kids names. Sadly, I have also reached the point where I have so many names in my head that I start to get them all  mixed up.

I have one student whose name I've remembered since the first day of school, which is remarkable because remembering names is not my strong point. In one day's time, I know I called that particular student Ethan and Evan, neither of which are his name. And, yes, his name starts with an 'E.' I think I may have called him Edgar and Eddie, too! Luckily, though, he wasn't aware of those little mess ups.

Maybe my name problem is not so bad since another student called me Ms. Hoover today.

Reasoning with Six Year-Olds

I simply can't hold back any longer. Originally, I told my wife and friends that I would not write about work, but I just can't adhere to that promise. Since I started working as a teacher's assistant, I've heard some funny things and had funny things happen to me.

In fact, just earlier today, one of our little girls got sick on the playground. Normally when that happens, it's my job to get them to the office so someone can come and pick them up. I diligently wiped everything she touched with a disinfectant wipe. Then, we made our way to the office.

"Well," I said along the way. "It seems you may have a stomach bug."

"I don't have a bug in my stomach, Mr. Haworth," she said with wide-eyed horror. I had to explain to her what that meant and reassure her that I didn't think she had an actual bug inside her stomach.

There have been numerous kids to ask me how old I am. One of the boys, however, phrased it a little differently by asking me "Are you old, Mr. Haworth?"

"I guess so," I answered with a shrug. "I'm 43 years old."

A long, resonating, bug-eyed "whoa" was his only response. My wife, who is two years younger than I, has had her children tell her "you're older than my grandma!"

One of my favorite incidents happened two days ago with one of my students immediately following a math lesson.

"Mr. Haworth," she said with a most curious look on her face. "What is that on your finger?"
"It's a ring. It's my wedding band."
"You're married?" she responded, amazement burning bright on her face.
"Yes, I'm married."
"How old are you," she then asked.
"I'm 43. I'll be 44 in March," I said. Her jaw dropped. "I have a son who's older than you are. He's 14."
"I thought you said you were 43, Mr. Haworth... And married... He should be about nine."

I tried to explain to her that he is indeed 14, but you try reasoning with a first-grader. While I'm still trying to figure out where I went wrong with that math lesson, she's still telling her classmates that, not only am I married, but I have a nine year-old son to boot.

The funniest thing to happen occurred only about three weeks in to the new job. And a word to the wise -- watch out for the girls. Their observations and inquisitiveness will simply astound you.

"You're not fooling anybody changing your tie like that, Mr Haworth," said one of our girls. When I started the job, I wore button-downs and ties every day in hopes of making a good impression.

"We know you're wearing the same shirt over and over again," she informed me. "Changing your tie isn't fooling anyone."

I told her I wasn't wearing the same shirt. She stood there, arms folded with a look of suspicion on her face. I tried to reason with her by explaining the subtle difference between that day's shirt and the previous day's shirt. They did look similar, I'll admit. However, as I've said, there is no such thing as reasoning with a six year-old.

"Oh, Mr Haworth," she said with a look of misgiving and shaking her head. One would think I was trying to pull one over on her. "You need to ask your momma... Or your wife to buy you some new shirts."

A Project Is Only as Good as Its Details

I currently work at a local school as a teacher's assistant for three great ladies. They give me administrative work, which suits me just fine. The more detailed and difficult the project is, the better. I'm quite familiar with the copiers our school uses and can make them do nearly anything I want.

Strangely enough, I've always been a project-minded kind of a guy, even as a young kid. No matter how old I was, each project had its own little details and nuances. I revelled in mentally ironing them out.

There was the Burmese tiger pit, for example. It had to be deep. The original plans called for a depth of no less than 10 feet. It had to have sharp stakes at the bottom since I didn't want to be mauled by a live tiger when I went back to claim my prize. It had to be well covered so it couldn't be seen by sharp tiger eyes. And, most importantly, it had to be someplace my dad wouldn't accidentally find or, worse, fall into.

I did complete the tiger pit. Considering all the sneaking I did to get my dad's tools into the woods behind our house and back again, and the amazing depth of my tiger pit, it came together in record time. About a month after commencement, the tiger pit was ready for its first victim! I diligently checked it throughout the rest of that summer.

Hindsight being what it is, I now fully understand the flaws inherent in that project. First, it seems there's a slight discrepancy between an eight year old's 10 feet and 10 actual feet deep. Secondly, long sharp stakes differ according to age as well. And third, my monumental disappointment at not being able to make my own tiger-skin carpet could have been avoided. It seems I missed the detail where you research the location and range of the quarry you wish to capture...