Kimchi, not for me

One of my students gave me a present today, and it really just made my day. This is the class I've made necklaces and bracelets for (AKA, my favorite class). This particular student is very craft-oriented. Her mom is a quilter, crafty type person. Jane, this student (her English name, obviously) has brought in quilt-type totes and bags before that her mother has made. Ironically, most of them look like they belong in a Cracker Barrel or something like that. Anyway, when I walked into class today, Jane said she had something for me. Her mom had made me this pouch (that's what's embroidered on it). The best way to explain it is to say that it looks like a coin purse, but the size of a wallet. Does that make sense? Anyway, it's absolutely adorable. Very quilted - which is a ridiculous way to describe it. I'm trying to say that it's obviously home-made, and a lot of energy was required for it. Her mom embroidered "Teresa's Pouch" on the front too - all the more substantial seeing as how her mom doesn't speak English. Nonetheless, it did much to make my day.

I also made some kind of connection and/or breakthrough with my sixth graders today. Have I mentioned that my sixth grade class is composed of 4 13-year old boys and 2 12-year old boys? I have them at 6:00 PM on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays - and when I get them, it's probably the tenth hour that these kids have been in some kind of school setting. They're all very smart...but really, I wouldn't be pleasant on a regular basis if I had their schedules. Anyway, their homework should have been simple. It was the second time I'd assigned them the same worksheet in their workbooks. Of the 5 who brought their workbooks, only one student had even a vague concept of what the answers were supposed to be. (FYI, the page was on making predictions - a concept I thought we had discussed to death - but obviously NOT.) Anyway, five minutes into the class I became aware that I had totally LOST all of the kids. They didn't get the sample paragraph...it wasn't interesting (to them or me, to be honest). So, motivated by frustration and desperation I told them to stop reading their books and listen to me. I told them I was going to tell them a story and they had to write a prediction as to how they thought the story would end. This is how it went:

Me: "Okay, what is a prediction [under my breath: for the 100th time...]?"
- Stereotypical crickets chirping to indicate utter silence in the classroom (an unusual state for this class!) -
Me: "All right...who knows what a 'guess' is?"
Students: "ummm....."
Student 1 : "Clothes! Clothes maker!"
Me: "Yes...but beyond that...what is a 'guess'?"
Student 2: "Think...you think something"
Me: "Yes! Now listen to my story and GUESS how it will end, yes?"
NOTE: "Yes?" is the easy (and only successful way) to ask if the students understand. It's a bad habit though, and I find myself using it when I speak to other English speakers and also friends back home. Sorry. Back on track now..
Students: "Yess..." (reluctantly)
Me: "I have a dog."
Student 3: "Yum!"
Me: "No, not that kind of dog."
Student 3: "Ohhhh..." (disappointed - and YES, this really did happen)
Me: "Okay, so my dog likes to run." (I'm gesturing a run at this point.)
Me again: "One day, my friend was holding my dog." (I'm holding the workbook in my arms.)
Me still: "She dropped the dog." (I drop the workbook, much to the amusement of all 6 students)
Me yet again: "We live near a road with a lot of traffic. What will happen?"
All six students are excited now, because they're basically 13-ish year old boys who love violence and gore. I make them write their predictions in their workbooks. They got it though - they predicted the dog would die from either being dropped, or that she would run into the road and get hit by a car. (Note: Student 3 from above did write something about the dog getting hit so we could eat it. Nice...)

It worked well, and I wanted to give another example to make sure they'd understand. I pulled out the story about being attacked by the dog when I was young, not sure if they'd get the connection between the dog being afraid of the fireworks and then chewing on my head. However, I underestimated the graphically violent imaginations of these young men, and the connection was immediate. When I told them that the story was true, and that I did actually receive 30 stitches in my head at one time, I was elevated to nearly god-like status in their warped little minds. Whatever...the point is that they now understand what a prediction is.