How is it that small children think they can get away with things or get over on us "unsuspecting" adults? You know, sort of like when you send your child up to take a shower only to have the same child emerge from the bathroom in five minutes claiming to be clean? Only you know they're not really clean because on closer inspection you notice:
a. There is no scent of soap in the air.
b. The washcloth is in the same spot it was in before--and it isn't even wet!
c. The mirrors are not steamy.
d. The towel, floor, and bath mat are still bone dry.
And when you confront said child, they deny the fact that there was any wrongdoing or untruths told. But when the evidence is pointed out, the child seems so surprised that s/he has been found out! This never ceases to amaze me.
The same can be said for the lovely little darlings you teach all day long. Rest assured, there are going to be times when you will look at the child and think, "How on earth did you think you were going to get away with THAT?" or "Do you really think I'm THAT clueless?"
Two "shining" examples come to mind as I write this post:
Example 1:
Our school has adopted a daily Independent Reading Time. For about 20 minutes, the class is to read a book on his/her guided reading and interest level. After reading, students are to fill in a section in a journal about the book. Some days I ask the students to write about a favorite part, what a character does or looks like, the setting, etc. It's a good exercise in literature study and a way to practice the reading strategies we are learning in class. Other days I ask the students to conference with me about their books. This is what we've been doing this week.
On Monday I assigned a book to a student. On Tuesday, this same student came to me and said the book was read. I looked at where the bookmark was--page 86. I knew good and well this child did not read 86 pages in 20 minutes' time. (The books are only read during that block of time each day; students have other books for silent reading.) So I called him on it by asking him to give me a summary of what he'd read so far. He immediately begins flipping through the pages and fumbling through his explanation. About a minute in, I stopped him and politely told him that I knew he didn't read the book. (Insert surprised look here.) I also told him that reading the text is not the same as looking at the pictures because there are no details to support what the pictures are showing. I then told him I don't appreciate being lied to and if it happened again there would be consequences. (Insert gulp here.) The conversation ended with me telling him to go back to the first page of the book and begin reading because he would be my first conference the next morning. (Insert shock and more surprise here.) Lesson learned.
Example 2:
Today, I was working with some of my students who need extra help during a quiz. The students who finished were to complete their morning work (a math exercise, daily edit pages, and journal) before moving onto silent reading. One student turns in her quiz and promptly brings out her silent reading book. I asked her if she was finished with her morning work (I knew she wasn't.). Her response, quick as a wink, "Yes." (Insert look of innocence here.) Hmmm. So I asked her if I could check it over real quick. (Insert panicked look here.) Then something amazing happened. She miraculously remembered that she still had part of her daily edit pages to finish, as well as a few math problems. (Insert motion of hitting head with palm of hand.) Right. I politely told her the same speech about lying and consequences. (Insert guilty look.) She got right to work.
The funny thing is, as I was talking to her, there were a few others who weren't quite finished either and I could see them "nonchalantly" following our conversation. (Insert furtive glances here.) When I asked if I could check over her work, they got to theirs, all the while peeking over their shoulders to see if I was coming to look at theirs. Because I was in the middle of helping two folks with a quiz, I didn't, but sometimes I do. You gotta keep them on their toes.
It's also funny because little children haven't quite figured out how to whisper, so I sometimes overhear them asking each other how I knew such and such.
How indeed? Superpowers, children. Superpowers.
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