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Noise assassin…

January 6, 2010

Yesterday I went to my daughters’ school for hula-hooping at lunch time…

I sat in her classroom with her while she ate her sandwich and made some casual inquiries into why there were a list of names on the board,

with marks against them…

Each named child articulated their crime,

“I looked at my neighbour…”

“I had to go to the bathroom while the teacher was talking…”

“I pushed my chair to far back and bumped into the person behind me,

by accident…” (grin of white lie)

And then they articulated the punishment,

If you get two marks against your name you get a point rouge,

a letter goes home to your parents,

they have to sign it,

and then…

I didn’t catch the drift of the rest,

because this happened inside of me…

Until I remembered that I used to engage in similar practices as a new teacher,

because I’d been conditioned to believe that if a child was moving,

or talking to a neighbour,

they weren’t focused on the almighty ME,

and my lesson of instruction…

There should be nothing more scintillating that what I had to say,

at the front of the room,

standing and de-livering…

Discipline,

respect,

order,

attention,

are words holding multiple meanings…

Bathroom???

This word is unequivocal,

and you’re going to wait until I am finished talking

Thank goodness for common sense,

and the book Childhood and Post-Colonization: Power, Education and Contemporary Practice

This reading shot a cannon into my classroom reality back in 2006…

After your world has been blown to smithereens there is not going back…

EVER…

I’ll guarantee it…

110%…

Last semester I had to use the ladies room (both numbers),

while the teacher was talking…

I had to go real bad…

But I held it in,

until I was all Knee in My Package,

at the institutionally determined break time…

You could call this karma,

or a teachable moment…

I took Little Gem out of school for an afternoon of hooky,

to recover from going green…

We went to the Bloedel Conservatory,

to listen to,

some bird language…

The birds were quiet…

When I asked why, Mr. Caretaker said,

You should come here on a sunny day,

then they talk up a storm…

Birds are just like us,

they need sunlight to sing…

Mother of mercy…

This makes me wonder whether birds in captivity,

have more freedom of speech,

than children in 2010 classrooms…

I will play a rhapsody...

What does it mean when you go wandering with your class and another looking for magic in a sub-division and one boy (on the autism-spectrum) is always at the back of the group, way back, and when you ask him if he sees everything and that’s why he takes longer, he looks at you with a ‘how did you know?’ and you say, “I’m like that too,” and you ask him why he has hearing aids and he tells you it’s to keep sounds out because it’s too much to handle and when you tell him, “I’m like that too,” he looks you right in the eye and smiles and you silently walk back to school together with the knowing of having found a new friend???

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