Time Marches On

We are three weeks into the school year, and I am having some difficulty bonding with my new students. Not that I want to pal around with them or anything. A simple civil working relationship would suffice. But there is something about this group. They're like the Sour Patch kid. First they're sour...then they're still sour! Here are some case studies for you. All from today.

Give me the phone.
It's not mine.
I don't care whose it is. Give it to me.
(handing it over) Can I have it back at the end of class?
No. I am taking it to the office after class. In fact, I'm taking it right now.
(upon my return) Can I go talk to Mr. Principal about it?
No. Do that on your own time, not on my time.

What you don't know is that the same girl has dropped her phone three times already this year, and when admonished that she needs to keep it put away, replied, "But I have really little pockets, and it falls out." To be fair, the phone I took was not the phone that kept falling out and breaking into a million little pieces like one of those toy cars that you crash into something and the parts fly off.

Another thing you don't know is that during my lesson on the moon landing conspiracy, which will be rebutted on Tuesday by the MythBuster's busting of moon landing conspiracies, both of which will have student knowledge tested by a quiz on Wednesday...this student read a book. AND had the nerve to get up in the middle of class and ask to go to the library because she finished her book and wanted another one. AND, when told that she should be watching the classic video, Conspiracy Theory: Did We Land on the Moon, instead of reading, because that was today's lesson, and there would be a quiz on it, she returned to her desk, opened up the very same book she had just finished, and started reading it over. Never mind that if I had told the class today, "You need to bring a book and read it all hour," they would have complained, with this student being the most anti-reading nonreader of all illiterates. Because that's how some people operate. I'm calling oppositional defiant disorder. Because that is her modus operandi. Which is why she was on my radar to start with, having figuratively thumbed her figurative nose at Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's directive

Oh, and I hear that she told Mr. Principal: "I was only checking the time. My friend loaned it to me so I could check the time." Because my school-issue big round clock with the thick black rim on the shiny white wall is not a good enough chronological reference for her. And because we all know that watches are not allowed in school, which forces kids to use their banned cell phones to tell the time. They're not so much banned as they are classified as don't show, don't tell. Phones should be unseen and not heard until 2:56 p.m. Any time we see one, it's fair game. There's been a crackdown this year.

Now I have used up a good bit of space, so I will withhold the other tales until tomorrow. Because I can.