Introducing: Collections of a Middle Aged, Middle Income, Middle School Teacher
Story #1 No the Pilgrims weren’t birds. I wonder if straight jackets are one size fits all and if they come in colors other than white?
I’ve always wanted to write. I’ve started several “books” and then never followed through. Well, let me rephrase that. I’ve had the ideas for 2 books and started one and wrote the outline for another, neither of which my mother, sisters, grandparents, and most of my friends would approve.
Then it came to me one day; I should write a collection of stories, kinda like Chicken Soup for the Soul but funnier, not as insightful, and with a lot less advice. So in other words, nothing like Chicken Soup for the Soul but more of a Jen Lancaster, Bitter is the New Black, only for teachers and those lovelies out there that think teachers have the easiest job in the world because we get summers off.
(Note to the reader, summer wasn’t created for students; it was created for teachers so we don’t end up wearing orange jumpsuits, picking up trash on the side of a public highway nearest you.)
I’ve been teaching since 1995. I’ve seen a lot of students come and go through my classroom doors. I’ve enjoyed teaching MOST of those students and have prayed heavily for forgiveness because of the cuss words going through my head at the antics of SOME of those students. While some days are more challenging than others, there are many days when I have to write down all the funny things that I hear, are told to me, I’ve seen or just can’t believe. Today’s picture, inspired me to write this first post.
It was 2012 and I was in my 6th year of teaching 8th grade American History. I love American History. I love everything about it. I teach 1607–1877: Colonization of Jamestown to the end of Reconstruction. Getting kids excited about a bunch of old dead white guys (and a few women) can be a struggle sometimes, but for the most part, I do a pretty good job of telling the story and making it relevant to them. Or so I thought.
We weren’t too far into the year and we had just finished our unit on Plymouth. You know that colony. I’m sure of it. The Pilgrims. Thanksgiving. Turkey. Dressing. Indians. (Although now, to keep the PC police happy, we have to call them Native Americans.) I had shown my 1st period a fun little clip of The Peanuts as the Pilgrims. They were headed across the Atlantic in search of that new found religious freedom. Snoopy is on the look out for new land and Charlie Brown was anxious as always. The clip wasn’t terribly long and when it was over, we were going to start reviewing for a test to cover the first three weeks worth of material.
“Okay!” I begin. “That was cute. Let’s begin our review for the test. But first, does anyone have any questions about Jamestown or Plymouth? Now’s the time to ask them.”
Hand goes up. It’s Gregorio. (Yes, it’s a made up name.) Very puzzled look on his face. (And to appreciate Gregorio, you have to know that he had a heavy Hispanic accent.)
“Yes, Gregorio?”
“Miss. You mean to tell me that the Pilgrims were people?”
I immediately think to myself, “It’s too early for this.”
“Yeah, huh. They were people. What did you think they were?”
“I don’t know. I just always thought they were birds.”
Yes, you read that right. The boy always thought the Pilgrims were birds.
“Birds? You thought the Pilgrims were birds? How? Why? When did I ever give you the idea that the Pilgrims were birds? What kind of birds?”
Now here’s where my brain is going 90 miles a minute. Birds. We are studying American History. Why would this 14 year old boy think the Pilgrims were birds? Oh wait…Thanksgiving. He’s thinking turkey. A turkey is a bird. Pilgrims are birds.
“I don’t know Miss. I thought they were chickens.”
Oh dear God. He thought they were chickens. Turkeys I can see. I can make the connection between Pilgrims and turkeys, but chickens? Why in the world would he pick chickens? Then it hits me, Pilgrims Pride Chicken. But is he really intuitive enough to make that kind of connection? I’m thinking not.
“Gregorio. Why? Why chickens?”
“Because chickens can fly.”
Well no, not really, but I’m completely lost, so why not? The look on my face at 7:45 in the morning must have been one that scares the kids because the others were scooting their seats away from their desks and clearing a path for me to walk out of the building. They could tell my brain was hurting. The pain was showing because my eyes were starting to twitch.
“So because chickens can fly, you thought the Pilgrims were birds. There are other birds that can fly. So why chickens?
“Miss. I don’t know. I just always thought they were chickens.”
At this point, I’m standing up. I’m leaning on the table beside my desk and I’m so shocked at what I’m hearing that I can’t even form a complete thought in my head. Where did I go wrong?
“So let me get this straight. You thought the Pilgrims were chickens. You thought the Pilgrim chickens left England in search of religious freedom and went to Holland. Didn’t like the way their chicks were being taught and indoctrinated with Dutch ways and traditions, so they hopped on board this ship called the Mayflower and headed west across the Atlantic for a 3 month journey. When the chickens got to this new world, they scouted out the best possible land to make a new home for themselves, but first had the forethought to go ahead and WRITE down on a piece of paper with their tiny little talons, the Mayflower Compact thus creating the first self-rule government in the colonies. They got off the Mayflower, started building homes, interacting with the natives, survived the first winter and growing season, celebrated the first Thanksgiving by eating OTHER birds and now we are learning about them 400 years later. Is that right? Did I get that right?”
Please say no. Please say no.
“Yeah. Pretty much. I just always thought they were birds.”
I quit!
I’d like my straight jacket in something other than white!
