jillyb
DIS Veteran
- Joined
- Mar 30, 2008
- Messages
- 2,437
continued from Wednesday)
Sandy glanced at her watch. It was two fifty. "I gotta run. See you
in the morning." Then she cracked open my door, looked both ways,
and made a mad dash to the parking lot.
I grabbed my lesson plan book, hurried over to the library, and
crept in the back door where I found a seat in the corner of the
room. Parents and kids had gathered outside the front glass doors
waiting for the lists to go up. I had a good view from where I was
sitting. I kept the lights off so no one would see me. The windows
above the doors were open so I could hear what was going on.
Ellen walked into the library at exactly three o'clock and spotted
me.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Hiding," I whispered.
She looked away quickly and pretended I wasn't there. Then she
started taping the lists on the inside of the windows. The crowd
swarmed around. After all the lists were up, Ellen turned around and
darted to the back door.
"You're not staying?" I asked.
"Not for a million dollars."
I flashed a smile. "If anyone has any questions, I'll give them your
home number."
She laughed. "And I'll make sure you have bus duty for the whole
year."
As I sat hidden, I watched dozens of children run their fingers down
the lists, hunting for their names. The search is always the same.
When kids get the teacher they want, they scream. After finding
their names they look for their friends' names. If their friends are
in the same class, they scream again. Before leaving campus, they
rush to their new classrooms, press their faces against the windows
to get a peek inside, and declare, "No one's there."
As the crowd grew, I heard one child shout, "I got Mr. Done!" He was
jumping up and down. That felt good. It was John. I knew him well.
Last year when I was on cafeteria duty, I opened thirty-seven of his
juice boxes.
A few minutes later, I heard a mom ask, "Who'd you get?"
"Mr. Done," a sad voice answered.
I craned my neck to see who it was. It was Sarah. I knew her, too.
In fact, everyone knew Sarah. In second grade she wore leopard
leotards, pink cowboy boots, a purple-fringed leather jacket studded
with rhinestones, and a plastic purple Barbie watch. On Picture
Makeup Day, she got confused and came to school wearing glittery lip
gloss and eye shadow.
"What's wrong with Mr. Done?" Sarah's mom asked.
"He gives homework," Sarah grumped.
"They all give homework, honey."
Sarah looked horrified.
Soon I heard another voice. "I got him! I got him!" Since there are
only two male teachers on my campus--Mr. Davis, who teaches fifth
grade, and myself--there was a good chance that this was one of
mine. It was. The voice belonged to Trevor. I'd had Trevor's brother
Stephen two years earlier. In fact, Stephen was with Trevor at the
library window. As the boys walked away, I heard Stephen say, "Mr.
Done's nice. Laugh at his jokes. He likes that."
Over the next hour, more children came by and ran their fingers down
the lists then left to go press their faces against the windows of
their new classrooms. When the crowd began to die down, I gathered
my things, sneaked out the back door, and returned to my room. I set
my lesson plan book on my desk, took one last look around, and
headed out. Just as I was locking the door, Stephen and Trevor rode
by on their bikes.
"Well, look who's here," I said with a big smile. "How are you boys
doing?"
"Great," Stephen replied.
I walked toward them. "Did you have a nice summer?"
"Yeah," they answered in unison.
"All ready for school to start?" I asked.
"Uh-huh," said Stephen.
I looked at Trevor and smiled. "So, do you know who your teacher
is?"
Trevor grinned and nodded.
"I'm glad you're in my class," I said.
His grin grew.
Then I looked at Stephen. "Are you excited about fifth grade?"
"Sort of," Stephen responded.
"Who'd you get?" I asked.
"Mr. Davis."
"Ahhhh," I said. Then I lowered my voice to a playful whisper. "You
want to know a secret about Mr. Davis?"
"Sure," Stephen answered. He stepped toward me.
"Well," I said, "Mr. Davis is nice. Laugh at his jokes. He likes
that."
Trevor and Stephen snapped surprised looks at each other. I smirked
and strolled away.
"See you two tomorrow," I sang. "And happy first day of school!"
WELCOME BACK
On the first day of school, I sit alone in my classroom and wait for
the morning bell to ring. The room is ready. Everything is in its
place--like a house just before company comes to visit. My company
is coming to stay for 185 days.
After the bell rings, I take a deep breath, gulp down the rest of my
coffee, then push the door open. Twenty third graders are lined up.
Twenty moms and dads stand nearby, snapping pictures on their
digital cameras and cell phones. Their last words to their children
are "good luck, pay attention, be good, wear your hair back, you'll
make new friends," and "don't drive your new teacher crazy."
I look out at their nervous faces. "Good morning, boys and girls."
"Good morning," they answer softly.
I know these soft voices will last only till the first recess; then
I will spend the remaining 184.75 days trying to get them to quiet
down.
I smile. "My name is Mr. Done. It rhymes with 'phone.' Please come
inside. You'll find your name tags on your desks."
One by one, the kids parade into their new classroom. In march
twenty new backpacks, fifteen new pencil cases, ten new outfits,
eighteen new binders, seventy-five new folders, sixteen new lunch
sacks, nine pairs of new shoes, seven new haircuts, and 6,395 new
markers.
(continued on Friday)
Sandy glanced at her watch. It was two fifty. "I gotta run. See you
in the morning." Then she cracked open my door, looked both ways,
and made a mad dash to the parking lot.
I grabbed my lesson plan book, hurried over to the library, and
crept in the back door where I found a seat in the corner of the
room. Parents and kids had gathered outside the front glass doors
waiting for the lists to go up. I had a good view from where I was
sitting. I kept the lights off so no one would see me. The windows
above the doors were open so I could hear what was going on.
Ellen walked into the library at exactly three o'clock and spotted
me.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Hiding," I whispered.
She looked away quickly and pretended I wasn't there. Then she
started taping the lists on the inside of the windows. The crowd
swarmed around. After all the lists were up, Ellen turned around and
darted to the back door.
"You're not staying?" I asked.
"Not for a million dollars."
I flashed a smile. "If anyone has any questions, I'll give them your
home number."
She laughed. "And I'll make sure you have bus duty for the whole
year."
As I sat hidden, I watched dozens of children run their fingers down
the lists, hunting for their names. The search is always the same.
When kids get the teacher they want, they scream. After finding
their names they look for their friends' names. If their friends are
in the same class, they scream again. Before leaving campus, they
rush to their new classrooms, press their faces against the windows
to get a peek inside, and declare, "No one's there."
As the crowd grew, I heard one child shout, "I got Mr. Done!" He was
jumping up and down. That felt good. It was John. I knew him well.
Last year when I was on cafeteria duty, I opened thirty-seven of his
juice boxes.
A few minutes later, I heard a mom ask, "Who'd you get?"
"Mr. Done," a sad voice answered.
I craned my neck to see who it was. It was Sarah. I knew her, too.
In fact, everyone knew Sarah. In second grade she wore leopard
leotards, pink cowboy boots, a purple-fringed leather jacket studded
with rhinestones, and a plastic purple Barbie watch. On Picture
Makeup Day, she got confused and came to school wearing glittery lip
gloss and eye shadow.
"What's wrong with Mr. Done?" Sarah's mom asked.
"He gives homework," Sarah grumped.
"They all give homework, honey."
Sarah looked horrified.
Soon I heard another voice. "I got him! I got him!" Since there are
only two male teachers on my campus--Mr. Davis, who teaches fifth
grade, and myself--there was a good chance that this was one of
mine. It was. The voice belonged to Trevor. I'd had Trevor's brother
Stephen two years earlier. In fact, Stephen was with Trevor at the
library window. As the boys walked away, I heard Stephen say, "Mr.
Done's nice. Laugh at his jokes. He likes that."
Over the next hour, more children came by and ran their fingers down
the lists then left to go press their faces against the windows of
their new classrooms. When the crowd began to die down, I gathered
my things, sneaked out the back door, and returned to my room. I set
my lesson plan book on my desk, took one last look around, and
headed out. Just as I was locking the door, Stephen and Trevor rode
by on their bikes.
"Well, look who's here," I said with a big smile. "How are you boys
doing?"
"Great," Stephen replied.
I walked toward them. "Did you have a nice summer?"
"Yeah," they answered in unison.
"All ready for school to start?" I asked.
"Uh-huh," said Stephen.
I looked at Trevor and smiled. "So, do you know who your teacher
is?"
Trevor grinned and nodded.
"I'm glad you're in my class," I said.
His grin grew.
Then I looked at Stephen. "Are you excited about fifth grade?"
"Sort of," Stephen responded.
"Who'd you get?" I asked.
"Mr. Davis."
"Ahhhh," I said. Then I lowered my voice to a playful whisper. "You
want to know a secret about Mr. Davis?"
"Sure," Stephen answered. He stepped toward me.
"Well," I said, "Mr. Davis is nice. Laugh at his jokes. He likes
that."
Trevor and Stephen snapped surprised looks at each other. I smirked
and strolled away.
"See you two tomorrow," I sang. "And happy first day of school!"
WELCOME BACK
On the first day of school, I sit alone in my classroom and wait for
the morning bell to ring. The room is ready. Everything is in its
place--like a house just before company comes to visit. My company
is coming to stay for 185 days.
After the bell rings, I take a deep breath, gulp down the rest of my
coffee, then push the door open. Twenty third graders are lined up.
Twenty moms and dads stand nearby, snapping pictures on their
digital cameras and cell phones. Their last words to their children
are "good luck, pay attention, be good, wear your hair back, you'll
make new friends," and "don't drive your new teacher crazy."
I look out at their nervous faces. "Good morning, boys and girls."
"Good morning," they answer softly.
I know these soft voices will last only till the first recess; then
I will spend the remaining 184.75 days trying to get them to quiet
down.
I smile. "My name is Mr. Done. It rhymes with 'phone.' Please come
inside. You'll find your name tags on your desks."
One by one, the kids parade into their new classroom. In march
twenty new backpacks, fifteen new pencil cases, ten new outfits,
eighteen new binders, seventy-five new folders, sixteen new lunch
sacks, nine pairs of new shoes, seven new haircuts, and 6,395 new
markers.
(continued on Friday)
Lucky you having that as your home!
She just laughed when I told her "sorry...I just had to take a picture because it's so awesome!" 
Joining your PTR. We are going in Nov also. Ressies at WL 21-28 
Enjoyed all the updates. 
Thanks for joining in! 
) So then I asked her if she would be happy with eating somewhere else with Princesses and she said "yes"; so, I showed her the menu for Akershus so we now have a dinner ADR there. 
