Algebra vs The Dead Fly Society

There are days when a teacher's self-esteem really takes some battering. Things occur that really show you just how important you really are in the giant scheme of education-type things.

I rediscovered this today during our Morning Meeting.

I happen to think our Morning Meeting is very important because I do lots of really engaging, thoughtful, and significant things during this time. When I actually document what I do, I find I hit many areas of the curriculum - all at once! This is an issue of pride, really. Talk about instructional efficacy and bang for the buck!

Just in our attendance tallying alone, I expose the kids to statistics, data sets, probability, number sense, number recognition, concepts about the relationships between numbers, one to one correspondence - and the list can and often does go on. We use math language and we pattern. We sequence. We chant months of the year and days of the week - differently enough to keep it fresh, but often enough to set the skill - and I use music too! Talk about engaging the brain!

So imagine my surprise and chagrin when I discovered that my very graphic and colorful attendance display was being ignored in favor of something on the carpet just in front of Ethan's criss-crossed legs. It was small and black and moving. Ethan took notice which meant that Carlos and Michael, his minions, took notice too. Out of the corner of my eye I see three heads bent over, studiously watching the floor. I quietly asked the boys to "leave it alone" and worked frantically to regain their attention and the attention of the 8 children in their immediate vicinity.

But alas. This was not to be.

"It's a bug!" announces Michael with much enthusiasm and consternation. The response from the rest of the class would have you believing they all lived in a bug-free world, seeing as how interesting and exciting this small bug suddenly became
.
I work very hard to model Ghandi-like appreciation for all living things - including my students on most occasions. So, I put on a most serenely happy teacher face, picked up Brenda's name card, and walked over to where the whole class was gathering, or attempting to gather, by Ethan's feet.

"Okay, up we go," I say, and scoop the small black bug onto the name tag.

Alex was flabbergasted. "You're using BRENDA's NAME! BRENDA! TEACHER is using YOUR NAME TO GET THE BUG!"

Much discussion erupts as to the propriety of this so I announce, "Oh, wow! It's a beetle! A little black beetle!"

I then open the back door to release the bug, but it doesn't want to go. So, of course, I have to walk out to the grass and most of the class has to trail behind me because the releasing of a tiny black beetle from Brenda's name tag is the highlight of their morning. Forget data, probability, and statistics. Forget the forging of dentrites and neurons into a firm cognitive foundation for careers in medicine, astronomy, and accounting.

Then we have to traipse back inside, with several boys staying behind to see where the beetle ended up, locking the location into their sights for further exploration and, perhaps, destruction.

It took another minute to get them all re-settled and back into the very important Morning Meeting mode, where I finish the attendance math issues with a flourish and much fanfare before moving on to the flag salute, the patriotic song, the selection of our daily helpers and then, finally, to the calendar.

I work very hard with the Calendar lesson - trying to help the children see patterns and cycles and to understand their places in time. We discuss the pattern, which has 3 parts but uses an A-B-B-C format - different from the more familiar A-B-C pattern of last month. We snap, clap, clap, and tap this pattern and then stand up for body movements that I hope will reinforce it.
We move on to the sequencing aspect - I have sneakily removed some of the date tags so we can "discover" the problem and then correctly replace the missing tags - using the pattern and numbers as a guide.

But they are not paying attention because Alex has discovered an insect in front of him. He has splayed his legs around the thing and stares at it, transfixed. His eyes are wide with wonder when he looks up.

"TEACHER! THERE'S a FLY!"

Several of his nearest neighbors scramble over each other to get a good look.

Torrean screeches and then announces breathlessly, "OH MY GAWD! OH MY GAWD! It's a fly!"

"Just leave it alone, Alex," I say, using my best Teacher voice. "Let's check out this calendar pattern now and make sure it is correct."

More children squeeze in behind Alex and around him; he guards his treasure with his legs and leans forward to encircle his arms around the creature.

"GUYS! I am talking about algebraic thinking here! This is important! You need algebra for college!"

My pleas go unheeded. I cannot compete with a fly.

I step through the jumble of arms and legs and order everyone to stand back and let the poor thing go.

"It can't go teacher," Alex announces.

"Yes, Alex - it has to go. It isn't fair to keep it locked up in here."

Alex doesn't budge and Torrean has his arms around Alex's shoulders. Several girls are leaning under Alex's outstretched arms for a better look.

I order the kids to get back and for Alex to sit up.

What I see is not even what you can call a fly. It probably USED to a be fly, in a former incarnation. This looks like it got blown out of the back of the vacuum cleaner. It is missing a wing and a chunk of it's body.

It's not even a full fly!

I make an exasperated noise.

Alex looks up at me with the utmost seriousness and says calmly, "I think it's dead, Teacher."

Yes. It is. Not only is it dead, it is in parts. Pieces.

I can understand, somewhat, competing with a live beetle. But a mangled, disintegrated, one-winged, very-dead fly?

My self-esteem is in tatters.