The world is a wonderful place, and my job is never boring. There seems to be always something new to be had, some adventure right around the corner. Change in the midst of consistency is reassuring, and I do my best to cycle through new concepts and reasonings into my lessons to keep my students from being bored, and most days, it seems that Lord Kelley, my school's principal-of-all-trades, is involved in most of them. One day this month, he arrived at work only to find his door barricaded from the inside. He put his shoulder to the proverbial wheel and pushed it open enough to realize his entire room, from floor to ceiling, was filled with balloons.
Lord Kelley had to pull balloons out to make room for himself, after which he pushed balloons through the crack in the door. As no one stepped up to claim their prank (though the seniors were eyed suspiciously despite their vehement protests), the admissions office was left with multitudes of balloons. Knowing that balloons and seventh graders work very well together, I took my first class with me to pick up the rubber remains of the day, and the gather whatever surviving balloons to bring back with us. Bell work for that day was to play with balloons.
More recently, in coordination with my poetry section, I wrapped Lord Kelley's head up in a turban and made my seventh graders kneel before him and recite their own similes to Sultan Kelley of Ditzenberg. "O Great Sultan! You are like the sun rising in the East--you light up the land. You are like the roaring waves against the rocks. You ride the golden pig!" Or alternatively, "Hey Sultan! You have big biceps and a big beautiful brain!"
I try to remember what I learned in seventh grade, and I come up with nothing. At least my students will know what to do should their plane crash in Brunei, and they are found by a rich and benevolent sultan.
Picture taken from The Rebel Shang's camera. She estimated there were 1,200 balloons present.
Lord Kelley had to pull balloons out to make room for himself, after which he pushed balloons through the crack in the door. As no one stepped up to claim their prank (though the seniors were eyed suspiciously despite their vehement protests), the admissions office was left with multitudes of balloons. Knowing that balloons and seventh graders work very well together, I took my first class with me to pick up the rubber remains of the day, and the gather whatever surviving balloons to bring back with us. Bell work for that day was to play with balloons.
More recently, in coordination with my poetry section, I wrapped Lord Kelley's head up in a turban and made my seventh graders kneel before him and recite their own similes to Sultan Kelley of Ditzenberg. "O Great Sultan! You are like the sun rising in the East--you light up the land. You are like the roaring waves against the rocks. You ride the golden pig!" Or alternatively, "Hey Sultan! You have big biceps and a big beautiful brain!"
I try to remember what I learned in seventh grade, and I come up with nothing. At least my students will know what to do should their plane crash in Brunei, and they are found by a rich and benevolent sultan.
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