Sunday, February 10, 2019
Let's talk some baseball. I've played my fair share of games in my younger days. Numerous games on the athletic fields of St. Hyacinth's parish. Numerous games of fast pitch (or strike out depending on what neighborhood you lived in) against the boiler room brick wall at St. Hyacinth's Elementary School. Numerous games of fast pitch against the concrete block wall on the storage building behind Ollie's Meat Market. Three years of Little League baseball (pitcher and third base). Two years of Pony League baseball (outfield and occasionally pitcher). Several years of fast pitch softball (mainly catcher and occasionally outfield).
It's my years of catching fast pitch softball that is of most importance at this time. As a catcher you know about flashing hand signals to your pitcher. In this particular game, Dick Bauer was pitching and I was catching. To this day I will insist that I flashed one finger to Dick, drop ball. For those of you not familiar with fast pitch softball, if thrown correctly by the pitcher, a drop ball will break in a downward motion as it approaches the batter. Knowing, with one hundred percent certainty, that I called for a drop ball, I adjusted my catching position for the pitch I called for. Dick wound up, released the ball, and I knew immediately that he was throwing a rise ball (two fingers) and not a drop ball (one finger). I quickly made my adjustment to catch the pitch but not exactly the way that I should have with the ball coming in so fast. My glove hand is up and so is my bare hand. My glove hand missed the ball. May bare hand didn't.
The ball got passed me, I ran to the backstop to retrieve it, called time out, and headed to the pitchers mound. When I got to the pitchers mound Dick and I discussed what pitch I called for and then I handed to ball back to him. When I looked at the ball there was blood on it. Mine, as the ball hit may bare hand so hard and so fast that it split open the first joint of my ring finger on my right hand and I'm off to the emergency room for four stitches. As you can see, a failure to communicate between the pitcher and catcher, can result in bad things happening. Sadly, three young scholars from a T5 classroom found out what happens when they communicated between themselves while flashing hand signals, bad things happen.
It's Friday, lunch time, and I'm sitting at the hexagon with T4, OtherT4, and an Overhead (OH) person eating my eight inch, hand tossed, sausage and onion pizza, when a conversation started. Sadly, as I was stuffing my face, I'm missed the start of the conversation but this much I know. T4 placed her right hand on her chest, flashed a hand signal, and then stated what the hand signal meant. When she finished I said to her, "you've got be kidding, the hand signal stood for what." She repeated what the hand signal meant and then said that three T5-M's came up with the hand signal and used it in the classroom when the right occasion arose.
Now you have to visualize what is going on in the T5 classroom. One of the three T5-M's is acting in an inappropriate manner and is seen by T5. T5 corrects the young scholar and then turns to continue the lesson. With T5's focused elsewhere the T5-M flashes a hand signal to his two T5-M friends and they all have a good silent laugh. After developing the hand signal the three T5-M's failed in a huge way as they told someone outside their immediate group. Then someone told someone else who told someone else and the next thing you know someone tells a teacher.
Alright, back to the hexagon and my pizza. While we were enjoying our lunch a parental unit stepped into the classroom. I didn't recognize the parental unit but T4 did and promptly got up to greet this person. When their conversation started it didn't take for me long to realize the T4 was speaking to a parental unit of one of the T5-M's about their no longer secret hand signals. Unfortunately the conversation that T4 was having with the parental unit moved out into the hallway and out of hearing distance. The part that I missed and I'd love to know how T4 did it, was to tell the parental unit what the hand signals meant because what they meant was disrespectful, vulgar, and bordering on obscene. Unfortunately for all of you I don't know what the consequences were for these three T5-M scholars as I finished my lunch and left before T4 returned to the classroom. If I find out next week I'll let you know. By the way, we are not talking about extending the middle finger as I've seen that happen so many times I just laugh at the scholar that directed it at me.
Here is an update on that Littlefella that brought in that clear, plastic, zip lock, sandwich bag into school last week. I finally had a chance to speak to T2 about the incident. T2 told me two things. First, when the Littlefella realized that he was in trouble he said that someone on the playground game him that plastic bag. Amazing, a T2 level scholar and he is already well versed in coming up with ways to get out of trouble. The second thing that T2 told me was that the scholar has not been in the classroom all week and she was not sure what happened to him. Missing in action for a week. Let's see, suspended, expelled, parental units changed schools. Maybe I'll find out next week what happened to the Littlefella.
"Schultz, I have something for you to look at." "Ok, what is it?" It's on my laptop so have a seat at my desk while I get the day started." I'm now sitting at the second T4 throne. The second throne is much nicer than the other one as it has a leather seat to sit on. Leather? Probably vinyl but it is still more comfortable than the other throne. On the laptop screen was two columns of names. The first column contained all of T4's scholars and the other column contained all of OtherT4's scholars. I eventually realized that I was looking at Northwest Evaluation Association (NWEA) math test scores.
As I was looking at the math scores the first thing I discovered was that green is good and red is bad. Looking at T4's scholars I saw four green and sixteen red. I then looked at the second column, OtherT4's scholars, and I saw two green and eighteen red. Six green, a passing scored and thirty-four red, a failing score and the reality of the challenge that T4 faces just hit me right between the eyes.
"T4, how are we going to get these thirty-four scholars moved into the green zone?" "Schultz, green is the ultimate objective but for now we just need to do what we can do to get all thirty-four to show improvement over their previous test score." "How are we going to do that?" I asked. T4 walked over to me and handed me a two inch square, pink Post It Note. On it were four names, all her scholars, and she said to me, "you start with these." When I looked at the names I immediately recognize them and the fact that all four were in or near the bottom quartile for math.
Once again, I don't need to do what I do, I choose to do what I do and here is why. I don't have a teaching degree and I don't have a teaching license. Despite my lack of credentials T4 just handed this old, gray haired, wrinkly face guy, sometimes known as just Schultz, sometimes known as Old Man, sometimes known as Papa, a task. When I thought about the task I was just handed it made me feel pretty good because a math teacher just sent me a message that said that what I do in her classroom matters. I'm not sure of the time frame that I have to work with but I'll tell you what, I'll bust my butt to get these four scholars into a position to raise their scores and I'll do it for one reason. I matter.
With that said, thanks for following along and God willing and the creek don't rise I'll see you next week.
Alright, back to the hexagon and my pizza. While we were enjoying our lunch a parental unit stepped into the classroom. I didn't recognize the parental unit but T4 did and promptly got up to greet this person. When their conversation started it didn't take for me long to realize the T4 was speaking to a parental unit of one of the T5-M's about their no longer secret hand signals. Unfortunately the conversation that T4 was having with the parental unit moved out into the hallway and out of hearing distance. The part that I missed and I'd love to know how T4 did it, was to tell the parental unit what the hand signals meant because what they meant was disrespectful, vulgar, and bordering on obscene. Unfortunately for all of you I don't know what the consequences were for these three T5-M scholars as I finished my lunch and left before T4 returned to the classroom. If I find out next week I'll let you know. By the way, we are not talking about extending the middle finger as I've seen that happen so many times I just laugh at the scholar that directed it at me.
Here is an update on that Littlefella that brought in that clear, plastic, zip lock, sandwich bag into school last week. I finally had a chance to speak to T2 about the incident. T2 told me two things. First, when the Littlefella realized that he was in trouble he said that someone on the playground game him that plastic bag. Amazing, a T2 level scholar and he is already well versed in coming up with ways to get out of trouble. The second thing that T2 told me was that the scholar has not been in the classroom all week and she was not sure what happened to him. Missing in action for a week. Let's see, suspended, expelled, parental units changed schools. Maybe I'll find out next week what happened to the Littlefella.
"Schultz, I have something for you to look at." "Ok, what is it?" It's on my laptop so have a seat at my desk while I get the day started." I'm now sitting at the second T4 throne. The second throne is much nicer than the other one as it has a leather seat to sit on. Leather? Probably vinyl but it is still more comfortable than the other throne. On the laptop screen was two columns of names. The first column contained all of T4's scholars and the other column contained all of OtherT4's scholars. I eventually realized that I was looking at Northwest Evaluation Association (NWEA) math test scores.
As I was looking at the math scores the first thing I discovered was that green is good and red is bad. Looking at T4's scholars I saw four green and sixteen red. I then looked at the second column, OtherT4's scholars, and I saw two green and eighteen red. Six green, a passing scored and thirty-four red, a failing score and the reality of the challenge that T4 faces just hit me right between the eyes.
"T4, how are we going to get these thirty-four scholars moved into the green zone?" "Schultz, green is the ultimate objective but for now we just need to do what we can do to get all thirty-four to show improvement over their previous test score." "How are we going to do that?" I asked. T4 walked over to me and handed me a two inch square, pink Post It Note. On it were four names, all her scholars, and she said to me, "you start with these." When I looked at the names I immediately recognize them and the fact that all four were in or near the bottom quartile for math.
Once again, I don't need to do what I do, I choose to do what I do and here is why. I don't have a teaching degree and I don't have a teaching license. Despite my lack of credentials T4 just handed this old, gray haired, wrinkly face guy, sometimes known as just Schultz, sometimes known as Old Man, sometimes known as Papa, a task. When I thought about the task I was just handed it made me feel pretty good because a math teacher just sent me a message that said that what I do in her classroom matters. I'm not sure of the time frame that I have to work with but I'll tell you what, I'll bust my butt to get these four scholars into a position to raise their scores and I'll do it for one reason. I matter.
With that said, thanks for following along and God willing and the creek don't rise I'll see you next week.
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