"Some people march to a different drummer--and some people polka."

This sums up Marcus more than any words I could use.


If every single other kid turns in this:




Then Marcus will turn in this:




He followed directions (he folded, he cut), but he followed them in his own little way. The point of the activity was to find a country, put the country on the first flap, the climate of that country on the inside and a description of the climate on the back of the flap. 79 other kids got it done. Marcus crammed all the information on the back flap. And he didn't finish.

Oh, by the way, Marcus is pretty much a super genius.

Lexicon Artist

In a world with the "yo's" and the "wassups" and the u 2 and the b4, I would like to take a moment to recognize a special young man in my 3rd period for attempting to single-handedly bring back the phrase "doodly-squat."

Thank you, Quamonta, for repeating the phrase approximately 302,984,320,948,329 times today and some how finding a way to make it almost every single part of speech. Congratulations!

An Open Letter To Parents

Man, parents. I love you people. I've never birthed a child, so I don't know exactly how it would make me feel. I mean, I have students (students!) who I've only known for a few years and I would stab somebody in the face before I let them hurt my babies. So I can't even imagine that same feeling multiplied into something that came out of me, looks like me and is part of every waking moment of my life.

So, anyway. I get that having a kid makes you a little psycho. It's fine. And as a teacher who rarely sees parents, I'm even more excited that you care enough to come talk to the teachers about your precious baby. I'm even MORE excited when you have showered, are not high, and don't threaten the lives of either me or your child.

However, the following are a few things I've heard over the years...oh, no, wait, they were all said just today by the same woman...that maybe aren't really appropriate to bring up in the parent/teacher conference...or really maybe at all:

(all of these were said to the Language Arts teacher. He's super tough and loud and mean, but totally fabulous. And, I heard all of this even though I was two classrooms down the hall.)

"Your work is too hard. It is not your job to prepare her for high school. It is MY job."

"I will defend her no matter if she is right or wrong. No matter what she says, I will come up here and defend her to you. [30 seconds later] Well, if she is not doing her work, then why aren't you calling me every day to tell me these things?"

[screaming] "The whole problem is your tone! She can't learn because you make her angry with your voice!"

"So Chelsea said you pick on her, but she wasn't telling the truth? It doesn't matter if she was telling the truth or not---she is not a liar! Don't call her a liar even if she's lying!"

"You don't TELL my daughter what to do! She will do what she needs to when she's ready!"

and finally...

"I just don't understand why you teachers don't try to communicate with me more."

The Day I Disrupted An Entire High School

So Ultimate Favorite of All Time child, Taurus, is in 9th grade now. He comes to visit me sometimes, and he asked me to come to his football games. So, me and a few 8th graders and maybe a teacher or two will drive over after-school on Thursdays to watch him and a couple of my other former students play for the high school down the road. Usually the games start at 3:45.
Well, last Thursday, the game started at 3pm. I did not know this, but the high school doesn't get out of school until 3:30. I pulled into the parking lot around 3:10. I got out and so did the two girls who came with me. Well, it was a very nice day and this high school doesn't have air-conditioning. All the windows facing the parking lot were open. All three stories of them.
I start walking towards the field when I hear, from a third floor window, "I LOVE YOU MISS VINSON!" Well, everyone else heard it too...because all the windows were open. I know about 25-30 kids in that school, and apparently all of them took that opportunity to run to the open windows and yell out at me. I'm pretty sure some kids I don't know were yelling too.
Here I am, standing in the parking lot, telling three floors of screaming high schoolers to "Shh!" Finally I just scurried over to the bleachers and tried to hide.
I hope I don't run into one of their teachers around town anywhere. Sorry 'bout that.

Double Double Toil and Trouble

My class of 8th graders is a fabulous little group of people. I've always thought so. This class has been roughly the same faces since they were sixth graders together. Over the past three years, we've lost a few and gained a few due to transfers, but the majority of them have been around the whole time. They are and will always be the best class I have ever taught.

Anyway. Today we were talking about the Salem Witch Trials. To prove my point about how ridiculous it all was, I told one half of the class to try and prove I was a witch and the other half of the class to prove I wasn't.

Johnny says, "Of course she's not a witch. If she was a witch, she would have done something to us for getting on her nerves for all these years."

I slowly turned around and said, "And how do you know I haven't? Anybody seen Jamal since sixth grade?"

Chelsea screams, "Oh My God Miss Vinson What Did You Do To Xavier?!"

then Shazmira, "And Arias!"

Tyonna, "She IS wearing black today."

"Tyonna, you're on the side that is supposed to prove I'm NOT a witch."

Tyonna: "Well...can I move?"

Yeah She Does!

by: Shawna

Vh1 Divas Live: Teacher Edition

Some of the teachers in my school are the most amazing people I know. Some others, not so much.
There are two women who fall into the second category. For the most part, they are perfectly fine individuals if we're talking about the weather or what to have for lunch. But once we get into teacher territory, these ladies lose their damn minds.

Now, I'm not big on competition and I have no idea where someone would get the inclination that teaching is some sort of rivalry. If a kid likes me, that in no way shape or form means they don't like you. Oh, and if they like you, I DON'T CARE. Because, see, it's not a big deal. It's not even a small deal. It's not even a deal at all.
Maybe I got a big head after learning that literally fives of tens of people were reading this blog. Maybe I needed to be taken down a couple of pegs.
Anyway, these are things these women have said about/to me in the past week or so:

---"The reason you don't think she has bad behavior is because you don't have high enough standards and so you don't believe she's doing anything wrong." (It's actually because I don't get in her face and scream at her. Therefore, she has no reason to curse me out. But you know,whatever.)

---"Oh, he's good for you? Well, just you wait. Your time is coming. It's not because your special or anything. He's just biding his time." (What is he, a cartoon villian?)

---(To the 6th graders): "I know you just had lots of fun in Ms. Vinson's class, but it's time to learn now so you need to calm down." (Wow! Thanks!)

---(Some guy from the school board came and observed all our classes last week. I'm the only one who got an email from him saying that he enjoyed my class.) "Well, he probably used to be a Social Studies teacher or something and so your subject is what appeals to him."

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. My gift is ghetto middle schoolers. Some people have singing or acting or sports. I have none of those things. I don't get awards or prizes or a better salary. The only thing that comes from my gift is that some ghetto middle schoolers like me, and sometimes they learn stuff. This does not mean they are not allowed to like other people, or can't learn from other people. WHY ALL THE HATERATION?

Urgent!

We know students are fighting and yelling and not doing work and stealing and skipping class and setting fires and bullying but FOR GOD's SAKE TEACHERS, CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU WASH YOUR CHALKBOARD EVERY DAY?! JESUS!

It Was Probably By Mariah Carey

In part two of the series "______are Weird", we will be examining the role of parents; specifically, the actions of parents during a parent/teacher conference.

We have a kid, Darion. I feel as though I can say this from the safety of my secret blog--He's a psycho. Sometimes it's the little kid psycho, like he Michael Jackson moonwalks his way to the trash can or he sings stupid songs at inappropriate times (in the middle of a test, instead of doing work.) Other times he's a real big psycho--like talking about having sex with people's dead grandmothers. (Yeah...)

So we call his father up for a parent/teacher conference. Everybody has their say. One of the other teachers, she brings up the fact that she sees Darion's mother dropping him off every day, with her music playing. She kisses him goodbye. But when he gets away from the car, he says something to the effect of, "I hate that song, anyway." (Okay, I'm pretty sure this is just because it's his mother and he's 12 and trying to impress his friends by being "too cool" for all that...but what do I know.)

So the other teacher goes on with her story, continuing to elaborate on how his bad attitude escalates from there, blah blah blah. I'm not even sure why she brought the song thing up, except to just maybe prove that she pays attention to Darion, or that he puts on a show for his mother and mumbles stuff after she leaves.

But anyway, so after the other teacher finishes her little rant on Darion, the father turns around and says, "What song was it?" Everyone is looking at each other like, What the hell? Who cares? Then he gets louder, "WHAT song WAS it?" Darion says he doesn't know the name of it.

Another teacher pipes up, "Darion is acting up, he's not doing any work."
The father interrupts, "I'm sorry to cut you off, but I'm still trying to figure out what song it is."

Even after the whole "Darion talks about having sex with dead grandmothers" revelation, the father still wouldn't let it go. Really, sir? REALLY? Now I'm significantly less confused as to why he's such a psycho. Thanks Dad.

The Longest Running Joke In The History of My Classroom, Endlessly Spoken By Every Single Class, Every Single Year, Over and Over Again

"Idaho."

I Mean...

What the heck kind of nickname is "Butt Butt"?