Is That Supposed to Be a Picket Fence?

(This is not my picture, but when I thought about going to take a picture of a lovely house and picket fence, I realized the neighbors might get creeped out...thanks Google Images)

    Growing up, everyone has a basic idea of what life will be like when they are "grown up." We hear even little children talk about, "When I grow up, I'm gonna marry so-and-so..." and "My house will look like..." It's a natural process for children, and honestly, it's just plain cute. It's interesting how this process starts in everyone so young, this drive to achieve the American middle class dream. I started calling these the "Picket fence" dreams, because a house, a spouse, a dog, some kids, a yard, and a picket fence to keep it all in seems to be the most common picture of middle class success and happiness. It may not be everyone's personal dream picture, but we all know and recognize those picket fence dreams of how we thought our lives were supposed to go, or the pattern we think others expect our lives to follow, way back when  we were solidifying our versions of "right" and "wrong" "good" and "bad" in our childhood psyches. They all lend to the pattern and timeline people feel their lives should follow, if they are doing it right.
     As a whole, picket fence dreams are not necessarily wrong. They can be sweet and positive things. The problem comes when picket fences don't  mesh with someone's personal dreams. Sometimes those two ideals conflict uncompromisingly. Then there is the other, very real issue: Picket fence dreams cannot always be happily accomplished by sheer effort and force of will. Sometimes life does not land that way. Sometimes we are left feeling insufficient.

     The truth of the matter is, I have no picket fence around my yard. I didn't follow a path that led to a yard with a picket fence. I might never live that picket fence life. The hardest truth I had to learn about this is that I like my fence free life. I like the adventure that a less than typical path has allowed me. For the longest time, I felt that I needed to explain, justify, or just feel insufficient and shuffle off to a corner over the fact that I did not marry right out of school, I have no children, I have no house, I did not settle into a career straight out of school, I have no dog in my yard, I have no prospective leads that may lead to that life, and (here's the zinger) I do not have those things because I did not choose those things. I did not choose those things because my priorities were and are different. That last part was the hardest part for me to understand fully.

       I am in the life I am in now not because I am insufficient at life in general, but because it is the life I am best suited to live right now.

      It's like this: In the beginning, we are all given this box of materials with no directions inside.

We grow up, looking around, observing others, listening to other people's descriptions of what they did with their own box of materials. What we see is that everybody used their materials to build picket fences and beautiful lives. Some of us decide those lives and picket fences are so great, that we decide to build similar ones of our own, and this thrills us. Another set of us decide that because that is what everyone did with their box of materials, this must be what that box of materials is for, and so we dutifully decide to build picket fences just like them. As we try to do so, we develop resentment towards our awkward, lopsided, ugly fences and also the people who built beautiful fences.

     For the latter half of us, the main error is assuming that this is what everyone did with their box of materials. The reason we do this is because cute homes and picket fences are the most visible, recognizable constructions from similar boxes of materials. We fail to realize that the people who built zoos, airplanes, boats, bridges, restaurants, hang gliders, museums, and bike paths also started with similar boxes of materials. They just looked into their box, looked at the houses and picket fences around them, and said, "That's cool, but I can't sail to Iceland on a picket fence...and I think I'd rather go sailing."  or, "This would make a fantastic elephant cage! Let's go find an elephant!!!"

     I personally failed to see those things, because first, I didn't realize they started with boxes too, and second, people who decide to build airplanes with their boxes typically do not park their airplanes in the neighborhood for little kids who are trying to decide what to do with this seemingly random box of materials to notice. Third, while the boxes of materials may be similar,  I made the mistake of assuming that everybody's box is identical. They are not. Not at all. It can be very frustrating for a person to try to work a propeller into the creation of a picket fence, but sometimes, they try anyway.
 




   In the end, we all build something. We all get splinters, smash our thumbs, and run into problems, no matter what we end up building. The difference is, the people who really looked at their boxes to see what the materials actually inspire and then look themselves to see what their souls are built for, end up building quality products that they love, and the splinters, smashed thumbs, and broken pieces are just minor details in their stories of success, because they loved building it. The people who take their boxes and try to force them into what they think everyone else thinks they must create, end up with half-hearted excuses for picket fences or airplanes, splinters that fester enough to cause gangrene, an unexplainable sense of shame, and an unshakeable aura of bitterness.

It's not wrong to build a cute home and a picket fence, if that's what your box and your soul agree on.

It's also not wrong, quirky, or absurd to end up building an airplane, zoo, tree house, boat, or whatever, instead, if that's what makes your particular soul dance. What matters is this: Whatever you end up building, will you be happy or bitter about the splinters you suffered while building it?

Quaint, I know, but it has taken a long time for me to reach and fully accept this weird little epiphany of mine.

(Thanks, Google)

Now, I'm off to find a hang-gliding okapi to add to my flying treehouse zoo-restaurant thing, but I'll leave you with this sticky note:

What's in your box? What's in your soul? What are you building? Are your splinters worth it?

Is your picket fence an airplane?

Dear Me,

Dear 2 year old Me, accepting that cookie from Granny may have been one of the better judgment calls of your entire life, both before and after the cookie incident.

Dear Toddler I used to be, way to go with the earring campaign, I still appreciate you for that.

Dear 3 year old Me, there are somethings you will never understand. There are somethings that you will, eventually.

Dear 4 year old, the brothers never tame down.

Dear 5 year old Self, good move at the fair. As the years go by, you will dig, and search, and study, and strain to understand what it means to be to be a good Christian. You will try to be really great, really deep, really intellectual. You will dabble in legalism, you will try to buy your salvation with works. You will struggle to understand what the most important goal is as a Christian for years only to come to the conclusion that the simple theology you had when you made the decision originally was the best one all along. Also, eventually, you do learn that "Disciple" is not just another word for "Leveled-Up Christian." It doesn't really work like a video game. Maybe you didn't need to hold a big tent revival for your 3 year old brother on his bunk bed that night, though. He's still got some time to mature a little.

Dear 6 year old Self, you don't end up becoming a trash truck driver, but it's okay, because in the long run, you don't really regret it. You do, however, do your fair share of dealing with garbage-both figuratively and literally- and you learn not to be so squeamish about it.

Dear 7 year old, braces are more than just teeth jewelry. As much as you think you might like them, you really won't find them as pleasant as they look.

Dear 8 year old Me, someday, you are going to have a portable, wireless phone that can send and receive messages like a pager, plays music, has a calculator, clock, and a build in digital camera that can transmit pictures to other people's phones, has games on it, has a digital address book. AND, it will be yours and yours alone, and here's the real mind blowing thing: it will be small enough to fit in your pocket, and almost everyone will have one (even some 8 year olds). Seriously.

Dear 9 year old with an "all day headgear," it's only for a short span of time. There are far more painful, longer lasting, humiliating experiences that will make this one almost forgettable. On a side note, you're not going to be an Olympic Gymnast. You're too tall, and while you've got determination, it's just not going to be enough. The good news is, in a few years, you'll get your weekends back, and sleepovers are so much fun. Plus, all that time in gymnastics really gives you the mental training you'll need later, and your left ankle will click for years to come.

Dear 10 year old Me, I know you really want it, but you will never be mainstream normal. I mean it. You will always be slightly off, easy to pick out as a little odd. Let's face it, you started off as a redhead, and that was just the beginning. Before you do anything drastic though, I should tell you that this is okay. It takes you a while to come around to this conclusion, but eventually, you will realize how much you enjoy your abnormal self, how many people value your abnormalities, how very few people are normal, and how weird those normal people are. Raising those goats is really going to do a lot of character building for you. Tamagotchis really are a quickly passing phase, and though Digimon are off brand knock offs, Digimon actually end up being more fun as well as cheaper. Jonathon Taylor Thomas doesn't get many acting gigs after the Lion King. The Hansen Brothers disappear quickly, and do not manage to make "homeschooled" a cool thing to be before they go.

Dear 11 year old I used to be, moving is not the end of the world, some of your current friendships won't even be worth the trip across town to maintain. Friendships change. Some aren't meant to be forever. Things are going to get rocky, but you'll come out strong. God will never abandon you. Be nicer to your sister. You'll regret not being nicer to her once your common sense comes back.

Dear 12 year old Self, you will never get your braces off! Just kidding. You will, but it's going to be a while, and it won't be before they take your picture for your driver's license. Sorry. In general, I'd tell you to tone it down a little in the exuberance department, but since you're in junior high, I doubt you'll listen. The TV show "Martial Law" isn't going to last very long, nobody is going to remember it, and it will be pretty much impossible to find on DVDs later(media which you have yet to learn about). By the way, in a very short time, Video Tapes will be replaced with DVDs. Cassettes and VHS will be obsolete very soon. That's just the beginning, after a while TVs will only be 3-5" deep, and TV antennas will be pretty much useless.

Dear 14 year old Me: you emotionally survive the Algebra class at the junior college by the skin of your teeth, but gradewise, with an A. Not bad, hot shot! Sure, it scares the crud out of you, but completing this class is the reason you will know you can make it through much harder classes later on. Later on, you will no longer have your mommy there marching you back into class while you want to run away; you'll have to march yourself in.

Dear 15 year old Me, if you ever become that interpreter missionary with the beautifully adventurous, international life, it is not in the next decade. You also do not become a dentist or veterinarian. Because you swore you'd never be something boring, I know this may shock you, but eventually you become a teacher. I know this disappoints you right now, because you cannot think of any occupation more boring than a teacher. It's probably of little consolation right now, but it really isn't boring. If it helps, you do at some point drive an ambulance before this happens.

Dear 16 year old, when all those people and professionals tell you the acne will go away around the time you are 25, they are idiots. It gets worse. You learn to deal with it, and that your personal value doesn't rest on your complexion.

Dear scared 17 year old, nothing turns out as disastrous as you worry it will.

Dear 18 year old me, adult life is great. It's not any easier, but it's at least a different kind of difficult.

Dear polite 19 year old, when everything in your gut says, "Rooming with that girl is a horrible idea, don't agree to it." just be rude right up front about it and tell her you don't want to room with her.  It will save you a whole year of energy in rudeness. You learn a lot from it, but it's a high price to pay. Also, guys who mock you in front of your friends aren't worth the heartbreak, no matter how cool and dreamy they are.

Dear college graduate, your degree means very little to employers, you don't end up pursuing the career you thought you would, and your life training wheels just fell off on the downhill slope. Throw your feet up, hold your handle bars straight and steady, shout, "Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!" so that everyone thinks you're brave instead of just shrieking, and then be ready to tuck and roll. You will discover, however, that you've got quality friends.

Dear 22 year old Me, go visit Granny every weekend. Cancel other plans, stay longer, eat more nasty food, ask more questions, sit in a room and enjoy the silence of reading and potato chips together a few extra times, rent more foreign movies, drink more tea, stay up late with her, and get up early, complete more crossword puzzles, memorize the way she smells, the way she smiles, and the way she laughs, and the way her eyes look when she's thinking deep thoughts, actually try to answer the deep questions she challenges you with, go to her favorite restaurant more often.

Dear 23 year old Self, you are not invincible. No amount of planning, rule following, sheer force of will, or strategic steps can outwit freak accidents. There are some crashes you don't bounce back from as easily as previous ones. This next part is really going to suck. I wish I could tell you how to avoid it, but I'm not sure I've figured out how you can. I'm not sure I really would tell you, anyway. Right now you will not believe that the good things you gain out of this will be worth it, but looking back, you will.

Dear 24 year old Self, you will get better, maybe not in the way you expect, but your life is not ruined. You only think so, because you think you know what it is supposed to look like. Life does not have to look like the "Happily ever after" you planned in order for it to be good. You cannot "work harder" at healing and speed things up, that only happens in the movies.

Dear 26 year old Me, don't chicken out.

Dear Me, I don't know what advice I will have for me right now in a few years. I do know that I survived all those other years making those mistakes, and growing from them. As much as I wish I could go back and set myself straight, or encourage myself with knowledge from the future, I was unable to, and yet somehow you still made it through. I'm going to attribute that to God's love and protection, and the love, support and understanding of family and friends. I wrote this for you right now, because sometimes you need the pieces strung together to see how it all worked out. Sometimes you forget too easily, and maybe someday, when you feel less positive about life, you'll need a reminder and I want to leave this here for you just in case. God is the same God, whether you are 3, 5, 17, 22, or 63 and you are fortunate to have family and friends who love, support, and forgive you.
Enjoy the life you have currently whatever it is, because looking back, it was never all bad.
Don't forget.

The secret to growing a beautiful garden almost effortlessly...

First, you must start by planting sunflower seeds, the world's easiest plant to grow, in your gravel. Be sure to mix the gravel with soil mixture. Enjoy neighbor's appreciation of your gorgeous flowers.  Do this a year before this year's garden.

Second, you must let the sunflowers run their course, dry out, become horrible eyesores, ignore glares and pointed comments from neighbors. Let the birds pick at their carcasses. Only remove the stalks when the park manager starts discussing 14 day notices. Do nothing else.

The following year, notice that seedlings are starting to come up, throw a little water their way every once in a while.

One energetic weekend while a friend is visiting, purchase some tomatoes, and potted annuals. Recruit the friend to do half the work of planting. Water sporadically, because life is chaotic, and you like playing garden success roulette.

Wait for the fairies to come.  Leave often, stay away for long extents of time.

You will know they have been there because the hose might be coiled properly, or uncoiled from its last position.

You may also notice some quality irrigation work appear, or that someone has picked your ripe strawberries and placed them in your fridge.

  

 Sometimes, they will rearrange your tomato plants so that they rest properly against their cages.

















 Also, a good sign that the fairies have been visiting is that the earth is no longer crackled and dusty  like you left it.

 As it turns out, the trick to a beautiful garden is easy: leave it to the fairies.

Where they come from, I am not exactly certain. I have my suspicions that they have something to do with the family tooth fairy and friends. What I do know is, when I mentioned that I had figured out who the Big Hairy Tooth Fairy was, the tooth fairy stopped coming...so... if anyone asks, I am ABSOLUTELY bewildered as to where these garden fairies come from. Completely clueless.  Baffled.

All I know is that I sure think garden fairies are great.

Lessons learned so far: Teaching, entry 3

41. Junior high students will do nearly anything for an ink stamp on their paper! Tell them you will give them extra credit for turning in their homework on time, nothing. Give them a stamp on their pages to mark their extra credit, and suddenly every student is clamoring, "Where's my stamp? How do I get a stamp?" and homework turn in rate increases by 60%.

42. Buy cheap stamps. Certain junior high students will steal your stamper no matter where you put it. Especially if it was expensive. Twice.

43. Returning after spring break is like going to the zoo and finding out it's your job to potty train 20 monkeys all at once with time limit of 50 minutes. Expect to be pelted by lots of poop.

44. They grow up. Right in front of you. Not just height, either. Sure, sometimes, you'll turn around and say, "Hey, wait a minute, weren't we the same height yesterday?" Other times you'll look at them and see the eager, bright eyed, quick to please children, desperate for all the attention you can give. Most of the time you'll look at them and see the surly teenagers they intend to be for the next 2-12 years. But, every rare once in a while, you'll see them make a selfless decision, use common sense, deal with a frustrating situation with maturity, use integrity, or show great responsibility, and for that moment you are privileged to see what fantastic adults they might someday be. That's a beautiful moment.

45. You should brag on them. Especially in front of them. Every chance you get. To other students, other teachers, their parents, other kids' parents, your parents. Some students don't have many people in their lives who brag on them for anything, let alone education. Some students have parents who brag on them, but you know kids at their age: what do their parents really know?

46. Even though you'll despise yourself for it every time you do it, tie the current ridiculous heart throb boy bands(currently OneDirection/Justin Bieber) into every concept possible. Something with that much passion behind it, whether loved or hated, will be remembered.

47. Notice every little change for the better, even if it's not yet enough.

48. Learn a long list of positive adjectives and use them often. "You put the erasers away? Have I mentioned how fantastic you are, today? Oh, well then, you're stinking fantastic, thank you! I really appreciate that!"

49. Don't let them get away with stuff. Just because you're being all warm and fuzzy doesn't mean they get to disrupt the class or ignore procedures. Demand perfection, at least then they might achieve acceptable.

50. KEEP TRACK OF EVERYTHING! Did you ask that student to stop clicking his pen 3 times today? How many times did you ask him yesterday? Last week? It seems frivolous, but it matters.

51. Come up with a system that works with your brain. You can try everyone else's systems, but if you don't adapt them to your brain, you won't use them, and then you'll just be disorganized and ticked off. It may be a perfect system for Mr. So and So, but if it doesn't work for you and you can't adapt it, it's crap, get rid of it.

52. Try stuff. It doesn't matter if it's the middle of the semester, quarter, week, or day. If something could use improvement and you come up with or hear an idea you think has merit, don't save it for next year. Plan a little, find the perfect moment, explain what's going to happen, and then do it. If it works, dance for joy. If it doesn't work, try it again. If it doesn't work again, adapt it a little, try it again. After that, maybe set it aside for more tinkering at a later date.

53. Stick with new things. Don't just try it once and then throw it out if it went bad. If you introduce something new, the students will balk because "we've never done this before!" Explain it clearly and confidently. Give it a week. Let them understand classroom=ship, students=crew, teacher=captain, mutiny is not an option, plank walking and keelhauling are, though. Usually, they catch on and even appreciate it, after they have learned that no amount of kicking and screaming will be rewarded.

54. They have to try the kicking and screaming thing every time just to make sure it won't work this time.

55. Remember to love them. This may sound funny, but honestly, sometimes they will drive you to the brink of insanity, and if you forget that you love them, you'll start to hate them. You knew when you signed up that junior high students are crazy people. If you love the crazy people, they're easier to tolerate when they're about to push you over the edge.

56. Always, always, always, always, always, ALWAYS have your OBJECTIVE, subject specific vocabulary, standards, and EL standards in prime condition, posted visibly and ready for superintendent inspection. The day you don't have one of those items in prime condition will be the day 5 people from the superintendents' office will decide to sit in your room for 2.5 periods and take lots of notes.

57. Bring Cadbury Cream eggs to the office ladies. Office ladies control a lot. They have many opportunities to giveth and taketh away. They like chocolate. And Cadbury eggs are only 4 weight watcher points, so they won't hate you for bringing a treat they can't have.

58. Don't leave your Cadbury's in the car. If you do, though, the office ladies will still appreciate them, lopsided and all.
--
60. When the maintenance people back their golf cart into its parking spot 12 feet from the classroom door, it sounds like the distant ring of the fire alarm (which, if you recall from entry 1, can barely be heard in this classroom). Even though they know it's the golf cart, they'll still protest multiple times: "We're all going to burn to a crisp while everyone else is out standing in the soccer field talking to each other!!!!"  The scary thing is, they're actually more upset that other students might be socializing without them than they are about the idea of being burnt "to a crisp." Oh, the junior high mindset... Be glad you are only surrounded by it, and no long have to live in it!

I don't have time to shower.

Send Febreeze.

Hopefully, most of you haven't noticed the smell(which might be solely because I haven't been around often enough for you to sniff). 

TMI statement aside, just felt the need to spend a little bit of my procrastination time updating my blog. "I don't have time to shower!" is actually a thought I caught myself thinking recently. It stopped me in my tracks. What did I just think? Ridiculous! I love hot showers!

But, in reality, it's the truth. Between running from teaching, to running to credentialing classes, to doing homework, to mad dashes to the grocery store to find food for lunch, to grading homework, to doing homework, lessons plans, to observations, observation meetings, PLCs, CSTs, IEPs, SATs, CFAs, COIs, SOS!

My life has become such that I've found myself having to schedule my shower late into the wee hours of the morning, and having to force myself to actually maintain the appointment, rather than crawling directly into bed. That is the kind of life I'm leading. Not only am I spending 40 hours a week with junior highers, I may be beginning to smell like them as well.

All in all, though, I would have to say I am surviving pretty well. While I am so crazy busy that my dishes could get the CPS called on me if I had kids, my laundry tempts me to order new clothes on Amazon, and other such absurdities, there is not the nauseating, meltdowning, hyperventilating panic that I have experienced in the past due to high stress. I know my students. I have a feel for the school works. I'm comfortable in my classroom, the school disciplinary measures, and in my teacher self. My students are usually improving, and when they aren't, they aren't far from the other 8th grade students' performances.

Suggest that I am not making enough time for something, should be doing something better, paying more attention to this or that, or that I should devote more time to something else, and rest assured, I will cease to speak to you until at least summer, but the balance, while precarious and exhausted to it's full capabilities, is not currently a death defying act. I sleep without stress induced terrors, I wake without nerve induced nausea, I usually eat lunch every day... I am surviving with my soul in tact.

So, just in case you were wondering. That's how life's going right now. Good. Busy. I miss my friends and my hobbies, and nap time, but the blessings are bountiful, the learning overfloweth, and someday, I will again have time to stand in the shower until the hot water runs completely out. Until then, I'll pay close attention to my schedule so as not to forget such important appointments, and increase my stores of deodorant and baby wipes just in case.

If you're praying for me, thanks. It helps.

Lessons learned so far: Teaching, entry 2

21. Take all drills seriously. Really, really.

22. You can't please everybody, when you're working on practicing academic skills,  someone will whine about not doing enough labs. When you get a really cool lab going, someone will whine for worksheets. (Worksheets?!)

23.They'll call every single bluff you make, so you have to make every single bluff they call. Be cool with that.

24. You can get tired of chilli beans for lunch. If you assign lunch detention though, odds are you won't wind up eating the chilli, and then you can pack chilli 3 days in a row, and only actually have to eat it once. Problem solved... ish?

25. Student aides are still great.

26. Shower wall paneling is not the same material as whiteboard. It just looks like it. It writes like it, too. However, it does NOT erase like it. (This is mainly the reason student aides are great)

27. When you make the students do classwork during a drill while they sit under their desks, your reputation as a mean teacher grows rapidly. Own it.

28. Paper is evil. When you need to print on it, it will not be there. When you need to use your desk, it will hold the desk hostage in large masses until you file it.

29. It is easy to get total participation in a "Thumbs Up" question, if the question is either "Thumbs up if you hate Mondays"  "Thumbs up if you didn't want to get out of bed this morning" or "Thumbs up if you are happy it's Friday."

30. #29, though started somewhat in a goofy mood actually works really well for jump starting a halfhearted class or focusing an overly energetic class. Go figure.

31. Candy works if #30 fails.

32. If you ask students if they brought you homework as they walk through the door daily and incessantly, eventually some of them will crack and bring it in. Go figure.

33. If you tell students that every time you see a mechanical pencil "a little part of my soul dies" you'll notice more mechanical pencils appear in the days to come. You will also notice students raise their mechanical pencils, look you in the eye, and click it with a maniacal eyebrow wiggle. Learn to love maniacs, and replenish your soul often.

34. Always review your seating chart. There are some that will never give up trying to sit in the worst partnership combo possible, so you should never give up checking that chart vindictively.

35. Whether or not they know, every public schooled student wants to be homeschooled in some way. They want you to stop at their desk, lean over, smile, and ask them how they are doing. They want to be able to mold their lessons into something that intrigues them individually. They want to be trusted to be responsible with their work, while being offered occasional support/nagging. They want to be given choices in their learning. While they are comfortable with the ease of worksheets, they really want to to be forced to think, even if it takes a lot of force to get them there. They want someone to look them in the eyes and say, "You struggle with this? There's nothing wrong with you, it just means you need a new angle of approach, try this one." They want someone to be intentionally proud of their achievements based on who they are, not how they compare to their class. In relation to that, they want you to be individually aware of when they do not succeed, and they want you to expect better of them, individually. That's a lot of work. It's worth it, though.

36. Any lab you bring in that the students can eat in the end will ensure full enthusiasm and participation from the students.

37. Any lab that should not be eaten at the end will probably end up in their mouths anyway.

38. In a lab involving icing, you do not need to worry about spills, or sticky surfaces. Junior high students have ways to insure not a lick of it goes to waste.

39. Something to consider: If a drop of icing falls on the floor, a junior high student may actually lick the floor. Use this information however it may sway you.

40. Students who understand your lesson quickly at the first exposure make your job easy. Students who completely don't get it, get frustrated to tears, need the concept explained seven different ways, make you give up so many minutes and meals of your "student-free" time explaining it one more time, and then, one day, finally get it, make your job rewarding.

Lessons learned so far: Teaching

1. Always have handfuls of activity ideas that can be applied to practically any subject. Because standing there on a day when the assembly is canceled, with 15-30 minutes to spare and no actual activity planned for this slot of time is really awkward. (Bonus tidbit: "Quiz, Quiz, Trade" is an almost entirely fool proof back-up trick)

2. No plan is fool proof.

3. Put homework instructions at the beginning of  class. Fire alarms go off frequently

4. You can't hear the fire alarm. They're working on that. It makes you look really bad, though.

5. Junior high students are generally incapable of thinking of cause and effect if it extends beyond the next 30 seconds. You have to put a pair of consequences in place for them, one that happens in the next 30 seconds, and the real one.

6. Junior high students do not believe there are consequences for anything. And if there are, they are for other people. Especially other junior high students.

7. If a junior high student was told that he must stop talking, or his dominant hand would be cut off, there would be a lot of new lefties in the world, and a few new righties. (Please refer to lessons 5 and 6)

8. You don't have to read every piece of homework.

9. You cannot be a private tutor to every student in the class, during class. You have to make it worth their while to take instruction as a group, partly by stepping up the entertainment value, and partly by letting them learn the hard lessons a few times.

10. Junior high students have extremely short memories. It means that when things didn't go right in a lesson, the next day is nearly entirely a clean slate.

11. There are 2 kinds of trouble-makers: The attention-seekers and the power seekers.

12. Catch the attention seekers doing right, give them special jobs so that you can praise them.
Give the power seekers duties. If that doesn't work, get them out of the room long enough for you to get the rest of the class in the right rhythm so power isn't as easy to seize.

13. Don't underestimate the power of choices. "You have the option to work cooperatively with your teammates, or be sent out and work on the same project alone. Please make the best decision." works WAAAAAY better than "Work with your team now."

14. Don't sit on chocolate chips. They melt.

15. Get a student aide. It's great.

16. Call parents. Early and often.

17. Never forget yard duty week.

18. Very few lessons will actually be able to be completed during Red Ribbon Week.

19. Ask a lot of questions, in class and out.

20. Don't tell the kids there are dead bodies in the filing room that connects your room to 2 other classrooms. It really bothers them when the lights go on in there and silhouettes start moving around silently behind the frosted window.