tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813803759506120462024-02-20T08:08:49.839-08:00Chats With ChildrenMrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-2264361131163245162013-05-15T16:53:00.000-07:002013-05-15T16:53:34.135-07:00Happy Mother's Day. That's 'Mother...' with a B. My 4th graders were busy creating acrostic poems for their mothers for Mother's Day. They were given the choice of writing<br />
<br />
M<br />
O M<br />
T or O<br />
H M<br />
E<br />
R<br />
<br />
down the left side of their papers, and then filling in a descriptive word for each letter, to describe their mothers. "Marvelous" and "Outstanding" were getting their moments in the sun, as were "Terrific," "Hugs," "Excellent," "Really good cook," and one edgy "Ruler of the House." <br />
<br />
A boy looked up from his poem, mildly disheartened. "Hmmm," he said, mildly frustrated. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"I really wish "Mother" had a 'B' in it." </span><br />
<br />
I paused, distracted by what seemed like an obvious, but completely inappropriate "B-word."<br />
<br />
"Why's that?" I asked, reluctant. <br />
<br />
"Ahhh..." he said, shaking his head as if to show his disappointment. "Never mind." <br />
<br />
Reason #17 to be glad "Mother" doesn't have a 'B' in it. <br />
<br />
Happy Mother's Day, everyone! Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-26309532648580515182011-09-08T20:07:00.000-07:002011-09-08T20:28:26.350-07:00Back-to-School 'Sweet'nessAnother school year is off and running! I quickly realize how much I miss the daily interactions with my students when precious moments like this one take place. <div><br /></div><div>Today's "morning work" focused on the long 'e' sound. Students were given clues for words containing this sound. For "<i>denim pants</i>," for example, students would answer, "JEANS." </div><div><br /></div><div>Another of the clues was "<i>containing a lot of sugar</i>." When a student approached me for help, I happened to have a mug of coffee in my hand, and so I said to her, "<i>If I put a whole lot of sugar in this coffee, it would be _____</i>." She considered it for a moment, and then answered, clearly emphasizing the long 'e' sound: </div><div><br /></div><div>"<b>DEE-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">licious</span></b>?" </div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-21864274033447375272011-05-21T18:14:00.000-07:002011-05-21T18:37:07.455-07:00May Day! May Day! Or on Second Thought... No Comment.May 1st began with a morning worksheet entitled "Rhyme Time." I introduced it, reading aloud from the directions at the top of the page. I made it only so far, before I was enthusiastically interrupted by a student. It went something like this: <div><br /></div><div>ME: "May Day is a spring festival celebrated on May 1. Often children dance around a maypole, and--"</div><div><br /></div><div>STUDENT: "OH! MY MOTHER HAS ONE OF THOSE!" </div><div><br /></div><div>[pause... and... thank goodness(!), the children seem unfazed by this declaration of a mom's choices in home decorating and recreation]</div><div><br /></div><div>ME: "and hang baskets filled with candy and flowers on doorknobs!" </div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-45650625008808650452010-12-07T19:09:00.000-08:002010-12-07T19:14:37.479-08:00Deep in the Heart of Prefixes and Homophones...Me: What is the opposite of "increase?" <div><br /></div><div>Student: [long pause] "Non-crease?" </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And later... </div><div><br /></div><div>Me: What are the Great Plains? </div><div><br /></div><div>Student: The Blue Angels? </div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-14687549636217877882010-11-07T14:39:00.000-08:002010-11-07T14:52:41.691-08:00Sounds like...My class was discussing words with multiple meanings. Our illustrious teacher's guide offered a classic: 'hot.' We delicately made our way through its various applications, unscathed but for a few nervous giggles, and continued with several other exemplars--fire, lie, and one representative of the current vernacular: sick. I then asked the students if anyone could think of another example. <div><br /></div><div>A girl raised her hand. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes, Elsa?" </div><div><br /></div><div>"Squat!"</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm sure I looked a bit puzzled as I considered her answer, so Elsa began to elaborate. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Like I can 'squat' down, or like a "Squat Team!" </span></div><div><br /></div><div>None of Elsa's classmates seemed to find this at all funny, and I managed to conceal my own amusement as I suggested that Elsa had likely meant "SWAT Team." </div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-28784060903982455832010-10-22T15:34:00.000-07:002010-10-22T15:41:38.008-07:00So close, but yet, so farMe [addressing the class]: Do any of you know who Richard Simmons is? (Yes, I did have a good reason to be asking this question!) <div><br /></div><div>Most faces are blank, but one boy raises his hand. I call on him. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes, he's the lead singer for KISS." </div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-35043427908524537382010-10-14T14:13:00.000-07:002010-10-14T14:29:48.819-07:00Figuratively SpeakingMy students and I had just concluded a great discussion about idioms. We explored many examples, giggled over what a literal interpretations might look like--"getting someone's goat," "stuck between a rock and a hard place," "being 'in hot water,'" something costing "an arm and a leg," "raining cats and dogs," etc. The students had just settled into their assignment--to draw a picture to illustrate an idiom of their choice--when a boy exclaimed from his seat, "Oh, I thought of another one!" <div><br /></div><div>"Oh, what is it?" I asked. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">"Some guy is "light in his shoes!"</span> the boy announced, innocently. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>Uh, oh. "</i>Oh! You mean someone is "light on his feet!" I replied, thinking as quickly as I could. </div><div><br /></div><div>I could tell by the boy's expression that this did not quite fit what he had in mind, but he opted not to pursue it, for which I am grateful. I had no particular desire to touch that one... not even with a ten-foot pole. </div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-16371202339859095392010-06-12T20:41:00.000-07:002010-06-12T20:44:24.588-07:00Overheard...An audible voice emerging from what had been a hushed conversation between two boys: <div><br /></div><div>"No, you cannot get scoliosis by falling off a bridge onto a parked car!" </div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-69934160445304306632010-06-01T20:00:00.000-07:002010-06-01T20:06:52.854-07:00Soaking It All UpIt seems my 4th graders are reaching that age where they become much more attuned to matters of style and fashion. This morning one of my girls gestured to the skirt I was wearing and exclaimed (correctly): <div><br /></div><div>"You've never worn THAT skirt before!" <div><br /><div>Surprised at her having noticed this, I looked up at her and smiled, "Wow, Kendra! You noticed that?"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Yes. I'm very </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">absorbent</span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> when it comes to my teachers!" </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-2751896244967326472010-04-29T20:33:00.000-07:002010-04-29T20:52:44.271-07:00Sounds Like...During yesterday's lesson on literary conventions, I had just completed a discussion about simile and personification, and was moving on to 'onomatopoeia.' As soon as I said the word, but before I could get it written on the board, a boy exclaimed, <div><br /></div><div>"Oh! My uncle has one of those!" <div><br /></div><div><i>Huh?</i> I was thinking... I turned and looked quizzically at him. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Yeah! Automatic Pea Gun! My uncle's got one of those!" <i> </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>Postscript: </div><div>Predictably, the term "pea gun" was heard by some of the youngsters as "pee gun." Gasps and giggles rippled through as a room full of ten year-olds with ticklish insides considered their various visions of a "pee gun...." After a fashion, I restored the lesson's momentum, and the kids brainstormed dozens of examples of onomatopoeia. </div></div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-76388475583055736902010-03-31T18:53:00.001-07:002010-03-31T19:06:19.563-07:00Givin' It Up for LintInsomnia struck last night. So... I made cupcakes for my class--chocolate. While distributing them, I arrived at Tony's desk. "No, thanks," he said. This was rather out of character. <div><br /></div><div>"Oh, you don't want one, Tony? Are you O.K.?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes, I'm fine, but I gave up chocolate for Lent." </div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh, alright--good for you. Thank you for telling me," I said, moving on. </div><div><br /></div><div>Just then another child asked, "What's Lent?" </div><div><br /></div><div>Before Tony could answer, a third little boy interjected, <i>"Isn't it that stuff that comes out of your belly-button?" </i></div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-34850145035378813282010-03-28T19:17:00.000-07:002010-03-28T19:27:59.288-07:00Lest We Forget...I keep this quotation, attributed to J. F. Boyse, near my desk at school. It has the power to stem a rising tide of frustration, and make me take a deep breath... smile... and just "try, try again." It is a great reminder for those of us who, by parenting or chosen vocation, spend our days in the company of children...<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><i>"If, in instructing a child, you are vexed with it for want of adroitness, try, if you have never tried before, to write with your left hand, and remember that a child is all left hand." </i></span> </div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-49614179637936269072010-03-17T19:09:00.000-07:002010-03-17T19:21:24.528-07:00Good Question!First thing this morning, a boy told me that another boy, "Alex," was singing and refused to stop. Apparently the singing--however muffled--was creating a distraction. <div><br /></div><div>Here's how the matter was addressed from there: <div><br /></div><div>Me: Alex, please stop singing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Alex: I ain't singing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Me: [with emphasis] You <b><i>aren't</i></b> singing. </div><div><br /></div><div>...pause...</div><div><br /></div><div>Alex: Well, then why are you telling me to stop? </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-27987088115569215532010-03-07T15:37:00.000-08:002010-03-07T15:44:48.273-08:00What's in a Rhyme?My students were studying words beginning with "para--" <i>paragraph, paradise, parallel</i>, etc. <div><br /></div><div>After each word on the page was identified we briefly discussed its meaning. <div>The word '<i>paralyze</i>' came up, and I added it to the list on the board. <div><br /></div><div>Turning to the class, I asked, "does anyone know what the word <i>paralyze</i> means?" </div><div><br /></div><div>Immediately, a boy raised his hand. <div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">"Yup, that's at the church, when they dunk you in the water." </span> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-3490701948325692102010-02-02T20:16:00.000-08:002010-02-03T06:23:47.565-08:00Gotta Start SomewhereTeaching children to write can feel incredibly overwhelming at times. We painstakingly explore ways to generate workable ideas, create characters, craft a clever lead, and a satisfying conclusion, inject natural-sounding dialogue, and follow a sensible plot line. Sometimes students' views of the process and mine don't quite match. <div><br /></div><div>Today a student brought me her story: </div><div><br /></div><div><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0);font-family:Helvetica;font-size:large;" class="Apple-style-span" >ONCE THERE WAS A LITTLE GIRL AND HER DAD THAT LIVED IN A HOUSE BUT THE LITTLE GIRLS MOM DIED SO THEN THE LITTLE GIRL AND HER DAD WERE SAD TO LIVE IN THE HOUSE WHERE THE LITTLE GIRLS MOM AND THE DADS WIFE HAD DIED. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Helvetica, serif;color:#ff0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"Ok," I replied after she read it aloud. "You've got a good idea to start with there. Why don't we--" I started to consider how best to guide her. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"Oh, don't worry," she replied. "I'm only half done!" </span></span></div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-76461310569152338252010-02-02T20:05:00.000-08:002010-02-02T20:16:35.137-08:00Somehow this explanation is not inspiring a lot of confidence...An eager student brought in a DVD from home and asked if we could watch it in class. I told him that I would need to preview it first. Initially he seemed to accept this, but a short time later, he returned to my desk, more insistent, and said, <div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">"I just came to 'ensure' you that there's only two parts with kissing, nothing else... so it's fine! One part that's a cartoon, and one part with a guy and his wife in a video they made." </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small; "> </span></div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-17704882196617351302010-01-19T08:22:00.000-08:002010-01-19T08:31:31.065-08:00Rules of NatureIn a recent presentation about electrical safety, the students learned that electricity will always take the easiest route to the ground... even if that means traveling through a person's body. This information was troubling to one of my students. In the days following the presentation, he asked me several times why electricity would always find the easiest route to the ground. Lacking a better explanation, I said, well, I guess you could say it's a rule of nature. I could see this little boy was clearly not satisfied with that answer. When I asked him what was troubling him, he replied, "Well that 'rule of nature' has SERIOUSLY HURT a lot of people!!"Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-66431072533109971142010-01-14T20:32:00.000-08:002010-01-14T20:53:25.570-08:00Don't Look! I'm Gonna Read Your Mind!Today's math lesson introduced "ordered pairs" and locating coordinates on a grid. For practice, students joined with partners to play a game similar in principle to Battleship. Players secretly place a "queen" and several "knights" onto a paper grid, and then take guesses as to their opponent's pieces. I was partnered with one of my boys. After several misses, he suddenly and confidently nailed my queen and won the game. I had a sneaking suspicion that he may have "peeked" at my paper when I wasn't looking; however, I became that much more convinced after the following telling exchange: <div><br /></div><div>"Do you want to know how I won?" <div><br /></div><div>"Sure, how did you know?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"I read your mind!" </div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh, my goodness, you did?!"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yup, and I'm gonna play this tonight with my mom! And I'm gonna read her mind... when she's not looking! I only read people's minds when they're not looking!" </div></div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-31516033841335082402010-01-13T13:30:00.000-08:002010-01-13T13:36:57.165-08:00Got a Minute? Or Twenty??"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Mrs. S, how many Facebook friends do you have?</span>" <div><br /></div><div>"Oh, I don't know, about three hundred." </div><div><br /></div><div>[pause]</div><div><br /></div><div>"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">What are their names?</span>" </div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-42904587298899099262010-01-04T21:29:00.000-08:002010-01-04T21:32:06.135-08:00High Five!<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It's our first day back from Christmas vacation. My students rumble in, a rag-tag tribe, clomping and swishing in their new and old snowsuits and boots. They are a little out-of-step, shaking off two weeks of glorious un-structure, like sleepy bear cubs awakening from winter. Academic diligence may not come easily in these first hours back, but silliness does. I expect a hefty dose of it, along with two-weeks worth of breathless story-sharing and plentiful hugs in celebration of our reunion. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I've just gotten the group settled, making lists in their writers' notebooks of “memorable moments” from vacation. Clearly not ready to sit still, a boy scurries toward my desk. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“High 5!” he exclaims, thrusting a hand toward me. It doesn't feel right to meet his enthusiasm with a bland redirection to his seat. I tag his hand. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“To the side!” he extends the hand laterally. I tag it again. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Up High!” he reaches upward. I tag him a third time. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Down Low!” He offers his hand at knee-level, and then almost too quickly, claims his punchline by swiping it away and letting mine swat the air. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“TOO SLOW!” he shrieks. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Haha, good one, Derek!” I congratulate his delivery, smile, and then direct him—still giggling--back to his seat, adding “hey, maybe you can add your new joke to your list of memorable moments!” </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Shortly after lunch, another High-5-ing petitioner approaches me, clearly convinced that all memory of my earlier experience had been miraculously erased. “High-5!” he exclaims, pushing his little hand into the air near my face. He's moving swiftly, but not so swiftly that I cannot see the remains of taco sauce and recess on his hand. I am immune to all manner of kid-contagion, and I agreeably return my half of the 5. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“To the side!” I play my part. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Down low!” He lets me tag him.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Up high!” he snatches it away. “Too slow!” </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The 'down-low, too slow' rhyme has gotten lost in his rendering of this most-hilarious-of-all-jokes. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Oh, heavens to Betsy!” I exclaim, as if all at once to congratulate the child on his masterful trickery AND to say, I-just-don't-have-it-in-me-to-seize-upon-</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">this</span></i></span><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-as-a-teachable-moment.” </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The child savors the moment proudly, and then, with no discernible process of change, appears suddenly confused. </span></span></p> <span style="font-family: Verdana; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Who's Betsy?” he asks. </span></span><!--EndFragment-->Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-45232860221292082882009-12-07T20:16:00.000-08:002009-12-07T20:19:39.133-08:00Just Gotta Smile...Preliminary question on an oral reading test: "What are sheep used for?"<div><br /></div><div>The child's answer: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">"For making cotton balls."</span> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-38182893768738567012009-11-30T15:40:00.000-08:002009-11-30T21:13:00.538-08:00Well, If You Say So...I often use analogies to help build my students' logic and thinking skills. The idea is that they identify the relationship that exists between the two words on the complete side... and then apply that same relationship to the other. Many of these are simple, ready opportunities for the students to feel successful:<div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">HAT is to HEAD as GLOVE is to ________ </div><div><br /></div><div>But every so often, an example comes along that offers a comical glimpse into how children see the world. This morning's analogy was a case in point: </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">HOP : RABBIT :: SLITHER : ________</div><div><br /></div><div>Several hands went up when I asked for volunteers to answer. I called upon a boy, and restated the analogy for him to complete. "Hop is to Rabbit as Slither is to... "</div><div><div><div><br /></div><div>"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Woman!</span>" came his confident reply. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm sure a smile escaped my lips as I searched his face for any sign or mischief or humor. I found none. Likewise, none of his peers seemed amused by the answer, though a few stretched their hands higher into the air, affirming that they considered it an error. </div><div><br /></div><div>Still smiling, I said, "Well, how about we see how some others may have answered." Shortly, we settled on "SNAKE" as the preferred answer, but I'm likely not to look at the word 'slither' the same way again. </div></div></div></div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-32139464378442705212009-11-29T16:32:00.000-08:002009-11-29T17:10:47.764-08:00You Watched *What* Kind of Movie??!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My colleague was teaching his class about the /or/ sound, and how it can be made in the English language. He asked the students to brainstorm words containing the sound. Gradually the list on the dry-erase board began to grow: </span></span><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">or</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">for</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">four</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">core</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">war</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">soar </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">poor</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">My colleague addressed the next raised hand, after which a little boy offered a word. Phonetically, it sounded exactly like</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">"<b>whore</b>."</span></span></span></div><div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"Ahhh," the teacher replied, buying a moment. "Do you know what that means?" </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Not really</span>." </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"Well, can you use it in a sentence?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"Um, well, like I watched a 'whore' movie?" </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"Oh, right!" my friend replied. Smiling, he turned and added </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"<b>horror</b>"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> to the list. </span></div></div></div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-37893861417799932482009-11-29T15:41:00.000-08:002009-11-29T16:01:59.913-08:00Overheard....Sometimes the funniest "chats" are those children have apart from adults. Here are two I recently overheard: <div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">"Is Abraham Lincoln still alive?" </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial, serif;font-size:medium;">"No, he died a long time ago. Someone shot him right in the head."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'courier new', serif;font-size:medium;">"Ouch." </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">AND: </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">"Hey, guess what!"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">"What." </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">"It's only 18 more days 'til we find out if my dad's girlfriend is a boy or a girl!" </span></span></div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-781380375950612046.post-23093240582284811562009-11-17T15:11:00.000-08:002009-11-17T19:14:03.040-08:00One for the 'Record' BooksToday a student asked me, " Miss Stultz, what is the 'Gineous' Book of World Records? <div><br /></div><div>Strangely, I was sure what I heard was "Miss Stultz, what is the <i>Hideous</i> Book of World Records?" Immediately, I had visions of a volume celebrating all-things-gross-and-disgusting--you know, something cataloguing things like: longest fingernails, worst nosebleed, and most shocking find-from-the-back-of-the-fridge. Sadly, not only do such things exist, but they tend to hold broad appeal for children. </div><div><br /></div><div>Before I answered, another child corrected her, "No, it's the <i>Genius</i> Book of World Records." </div><div><br /></div><div>A third child got it right, "No, it's the <i>Guinness </i>Book of World Records." </div><div><br /></div><div>And still another, <i>very </i>authoritatively, "No. Guinness is beer!" </div>Mrs. Stultzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01933846979294412787noreply@blogger.com1