But anyway…
One of my regrets from blogging last year was that by the time I had time to blog more often, I had already finished my student teaching and I kind of thought it would be weird to spend time writing about the things a former student had said… even if they were absolutely hilarious at the time. However, every time I've subbed at this school, this one particular student has made a point of tracking me down wherever I've been just to talk to me… Which wouldn't make talking about the things he said last year any less weird EXCEPT THAT today, he came up with another brilliant declaration that reminded me just how much I loved having him in my classroom :-) And so today, I finally get to tell y'all about Rennie…
First of all, one of Rennie's parents works at the school. Which always made for really interesting threats on my part whenever Rennie decided that he didn't really feel like doing his work (which was pretty much daily for a significant portion of my student teaching assignment :-/) "Rennie… We're all going to lunch in about 45 minutes. Do you REALLY want me to walk into the staff room with big bald patches in my hair, an uncontrollable flailing of limbs, and my left eye twitching the Macarena while your dad is trying to eat his lunch? And when he asks me how my morning is going… WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M GOING TO TELL HIM?????" Coincidentally, by the end of the semester, Rennie's work habits and stick-to-it-ness had improved tremendously ^_^
Second, Rennie is probably off-the-charts gifted. He was one of the two kids in the class who had already tested into the TAG program, and the word around the school was (probably still is) that someday, he will do amazing things and we will all be staring in wonder at him on our TV screens, going "I was in his 2nd grade/4th grade/middle school PE/high school underwater basket weaving class… I have been in the presence of AWESOME." The only problem with this is that Rennie's also one of the younger students in his cohort, and when you combine that with the fact that he's a boy, what you get is awe-inspiring flashes of brilliance coupled with kicking/screaming/sitting-under-his-desk-and-banging-his-head-against-the-metal-legs temper tantrums. Apparently, it's incredibly frustrating to be a misunderstood genius trapped in a nine-year-old's body :-/
But of course, this odd combination of Steve Jobs and Honey-Boo-Boo does make for some… memorable conversations. Because you see, Rennie also has probably the most extensive vocabulary of any elementary schooler I've ever known, with the possible exception of his classmate Jason and my own youngest child. My favorite memory of Rennie from last year goes as follows:
Visualize, if you will, my classroom. I have a lectern at the front, with an overhead projector next to it. Directly in front of the lectern sits Jason (whom I've mentioned with much fondness before); next to him sits Brian, another of the class smarty-pantses. Across from Brian sits Lisa, who is probably the quietest, most polite, mildest-mannered 10 year old I've ever met in my life. To Lisa's right sits R.C., which stands in my book for "Random Child", who I may or may not get around to telling about in a future post. And at Lisa's left hand, directly in front of the overhead projector, is Rennie. On the classroom map, this group was called the Red Group; my personal pet name for them was the Brain Trust. Or, on my less generous days, Pinky and the Brains o_O
It's another typical day with another typical student-teachery type of lesson…
"OK, so who can tell me… Rennie, I'm using that part of the overhead right now; please turn it back. So, who can tell me which part of this sentence… Jason, did I not just ask Rennie to stop messing with my overhead?"
"Yes, but you never specifically asked me not to touch it. So technically, I'm not disobeying you."
"Fine. Jason, stop touching my overhead. Now, which part…"
"So can I touch it again now?"
"No. Rennie AND Jason, stop touching the overhead. Now, which part of the sentence is the subject?" Rennie's hand moves from the overhead reel and starts waving in the air like a demon-possessed jellyfish. "Let's see… Jennifer, which part is the subject? Who is this sentence about?"
"Um… Joe?" Now both of Rennie's hands are in motion. As one hand waves frantically, the other creeps back to the reel of the overhead projector. Joe (who is, as Jennifer has correctly discerned, the subject of the sentence "Joe walks his dog down the street.") slowly begins to slide, along with his dog, slowly down the overhead screen.
"Yes, Jennifer… Good job!" As I enter the battle for Joe's right to walk his dog at the top of the projector screen, Joe jerkily moves back to his original position. I fix Rennie with a Death Glare and move on to the next question. "So, if Joe is our subject, what is the predicate? What is Joe doing in this sentence?"
Once again, Rennie's hands and arms begin to flail. Only they're now joined by semi-constipated grunting noises. Now, as we all know, a good teacher always tries to ignore behaviors that are purely attention seeking in nature, while seeking out model behaviors and praising those students who exhibit such behaviors. And since flailing, grunting, and overhead-projector tampering are not usually found on the Picture Charts of Model Behaviors in college-level educational theory textbooks, I do what any well-intentioned neophyte teacher wannabe would do: I choose to ignore Rennie and call on other students.
"Adam, I see you're sitting quietly with your hand up. Can you tell us what the predicate of the sentence is?"
At this point, Rennie has had enough.
"OH. MY. GOD. I'm sitting right here!"
"Yes, Rennie. I know you're there. It would be extremely difficult NOT to know you're there, as a matter of fact."
"But YOU DIDN'T CALL ON ME!"
"You're right, I didn't. So, Adam… what's our predicate?"
"BUT I KNOW THE ANSWER!!!"
"I'm sorry, Adam… I had a little trouble hearing you. Could you say that again?"
"OMG!!!" Yes, he actually said it just like that… "oh-em-geeeee!" "I can't BELIEVE this! I'm sitting right HERE, and I KNOW you can see me and I KNOW you can HEAR me… but you STILL won't CALL ON ME??? What do I have to DO to get your ATTENTION???"
I glance over at my supervising teacher, who is sitting at her desk trying her best to hold in the laughter. I'm now quite certain this was how Chamberlain felt at Little Round Top when his men were out of bullets, the Confederate soldiers were preparing another attack, and all they had were some lousy bayonets and no help in sight.
Maybe student teachers should be given a spare bayonet for days like these…
"So, Adam… What's that? You don't want to share your answer after all? OK, then… Who else thinks they might know what the predicate is?"
"HEY GUYS!" Rennie is smart enough to know he needs backup here. And who better to support him than his trusty Brain Trust. "Do you SEE this? She's PURPOSELY DISCRIMINATING against us! She hasn't called on ANYONE from the Red Group YET today!!!"
A quick glimpse at Pinky and the Brains gives great insight into his chances of success. Jason (who hates loud noises and disruptions to the daily routine) is laying with his hood up, his head on the desk, and his hands covering his ears. Brian is glaring at Rennie and mouthing what looks suspiciously like "Shut UP you moron!" while making chopping motions across his throat. R.C. is leaning back in his chair with an ear-to-ear grin watching the show and probably wishing he had some popcorn. And mild-mannered Lisa is staring at Rennie with her eyes about to pop out and roll across the floor and her face a shade of magenta only found on dinosaurs on PBS.
"Don't you see? This is the absolute WORST place to sit in the ENTIRE classroom!" Rennie turns his appeal to the rest of his fellow Americans. "None of you should EVER choose to sit here, EVER! Do you want to know WHY???" He stops to take a dramatic breath.
"Because there is a LIABILITY at this table!!!"
The whole room goes silent. And now I, along with my supervising teacher, am trying desperately to contain the bouts of maniacal laughter. Jason looks up, his eyes meet mine, and we have one of those beautifully random moments of perfect mutual understanding.
Yes, Rennie… there certainly is. ^_^
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By the end of the year, Rennie and I had (finally) come to a sense of mutual understanding and respect, and we were both able to laugh at the "Liability" incident-- eventually :-) Rennie even learned how to stop and actually listen to the words that come out of his mouth every once in a while; we call it the "5-Second Delay", and it's been a HUGE help to him in understanding why Lisa has always been so leery of sitting within earshot of him.
Fast forward to today. Rennie is now a 5th grader, and he has learned a lot more self-control than he had last year. He's still the same smart, funny, perceptive (though at times totally clueless) guy I remembered, and still one of my all-time favorite students. So, when he hollered at me from across the blacktop this afternoon, I was more than happy to stop and talk to him.
"Hey, Rennie… What's up?"
"Nothin' much. Hey, guess what?"
"What?"
"Did you know that I can make noise with my mouth?"
I stop. Pause. And just look at him as I silently count to 5.
"OK, that's NOT what I MEANT! You KNOW what I meant…"
"Well, Rennie, I MIGHT have been thinking SOMETHING along the lines of 'Of COURSE you can make noise with your mouth… That's NEVER been one of your areas of struggle…' But of course I would NEVER say such a thing to a student out loud…"
Rennie smirks at me. "Yeah, of course you wouldn't." And then he grins. "What I MEANT was that I can make weird mouth noises like this…" And then he proceeds to make several different creepy/weird/funny noises that were actually pretty impressive for a 10 year old.
"Now that's just awesome!" And I smile back at him. "But you do know that there's something that every 5th grader has to learn before they'll let him into middle school, right?"
"Really? What?"
I fix him with my most serious real-life teacher face. "Burping the entire alphabet from A to Z. All 26 letters. In order."
"Sweet!" And then he starts to burp. And they almost sound like letters. Or weird letter-like mouth noises, anyway. "See? I got up to F that time!" And as he turns to head into Music, he starts to shout. "HEY! I'VE GOT AN F!!!"
OMG, I cannot WAIT to sub in 5th grade this year… :-D
(Oh, and for those of you who are still wondering about the subject and the predicate... )
