week 3

Week three of school is just ok.

The first week was novel (and short) week two was a drag, and now there is some sort of routine.

Kooka has been moved up 12 levels in reading - which is a blessing to us all. Her rant of "I hate first grade - this is pathetic!" was getting old - especially because we knew it wasn't true. The fact that her initial books were peppered with photos of an evil clown leering at elementary children as he passed out toys, probably didn't help. Not to mention the fact that the creep was pointing out colors to ten year olds. "Are these kids morons?" she kept asking me. "How can they be Punk's age and not know their colors - and why would they ask THAT evil guy to help them?" Now she is reading Aesop's fables, and funky poems - which as she says "is totally up her alley."

Kooka is also refining her Spanish skills. Nothing we did not learn last year - days of the week, colors numbers, basic introductions, but she is much more confident about them. I am sure she will surpass us all by year's end.

Punk has been moved to the gifted program for his reading, which he is really looking forward to. He also starts orchestra on Friday, and will be having art class once a week at my school with the high school kids, so hopefully he will be sufficiently challenged. Here is the instrument he chose:

I expected his first song to be something like "Ode to A Dying Cat" or "Fingernails on the Chalkboard #9" - but in actuality, he was pretty decent. He plucked out a pretty good rhythm and was able to work the strings individually for some good sound.

As for mom - week three finally has me in my groove. The first two weeks I could have done with my eyes shut, but now I am figuring out where my students are at and what they should be learning.

The worst part for me, was realizing that all of the kids had to call me "Ms. - something". Yuck.

So on day one, I told them that they had to help me out - because there was no way I was answering to that all year. At first they settled on "Ms. J" - but then the conversation went like this:

"Can we just call you J?"

"YES! That would be even better."

"What about "Teach J?"

"Yep."

"Or YO! J!"

"Yo J?"

"Noo Nooo - I got it . . . Master J. NO! Masta J. Can we call you Masta J?"

"Yes you can."

I thought they were joking. I really did, but that is indeed what they call me - in class, in the halls, when they refer to me to other teachers. Masta J. We'll see if that name holds when we finish jazz and move on to ballet.