Yesterday afternoon I realized I was stuck - stuck in between units at school and no idea what to do with a day and half of time before sending my students out the door for Thanksgiving Break.
Instead of jumping head first into teaching the ins and outs of satire, which happens to be right up my ally, I decided to create an activity based on those word magnets people often keep on their fridges. You know, the ones you can move around to say stuff like "She likes it in her ear" or "Big daddy loves fish" or "Want to jump me?"
So I sat down at my computer and came up with a list of words (all appropriate, although I was tempted by the dark side) for students to cut out and then arrange into a poem - a Thanksgiving poem. I was so excited because I just knew my students were going to LOVE it. They were going to be enthralled from the beginning of class to the end. They were going to ask to do it again and again and again...
...and then I hand out the assignment and the snarky girl in the back (who is the perfect example of why I am paid lots and lots of money) says, "Is this supposed to be fun?"
"No, butthole," I say (inside, of course). "It isn't."
"Yes," I say, for reals. "It is supposed to rock your world."
After all, it rocked mine. See...
And as I looked across the room at my other students, it appeared to rock theirs.
So kiss it, snarky girl. Kiss it. Mrs. Smith is a genius.
Where's my award?