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This is one of my entries for Week 17 of LJ Idol: The Wheel of Chaos. This is our Portfolio week, which involves a couple original entries plus some other things. Here's the link back to My Portfolio page. This entry tackles the prompt, "Six, Seven."
Adventures in Science
Can we eat this? they ask.
No, I say. Though fluffy like
marshmallows, it's still slime.
You'd think they would remember
the glue and liquid starch,
with shaving cream and hand soap.
Electricity or
biology, minerals
or animals. Weather,
physics, architecture, or
light and sound. We forge new
learning pathways together.
The ones you remember
aren't always those who behave.
One who took his shoe off
and then chased people with it.
Or the frenemies, in
each other's faces, breathing.
Here, two silly gigglers
who love science but also
love jokes. Last year, a boy
who snarked everyone and poured
glue all over his hands.
I try to make them helpers.
Type A students tattle
when others violate rules.
They are first to raise their
hands to answer my questions.
The girl who bounced out of
her chair to offer ideas.
And the smallest ones, who
need personal attention:
my hands-on help to hold,
or tape, or manipulate
materials. They speak
with tiny plaintive voices.
Can you help me? they ask.
After they fail, I assist.
The wee girl in braids who
cried when the experiment
went wrong. Sometimes there is
some crying in science club.
But I'm nice, or so they
tell me. I let them sit with
friends, make their own nametags.
I accept chaos if they're
excited while they learn.
If it's fun, we're doing it.
Some, I'll never forget:
the girl with anxiety
who hid under the desk.
But only once my whole year;
surprisingly, I heard
she hid often with others.
The girl on the spectrum
who feared loud noises, so I
found another option
instead of popping balloons
to find a puzzle clue
for a science escape room.
Or the boy so filled with
doubt after his folks' divorce
that, when he messed up, he
moaned, That's why my dad left us.
I told him, We all make
mistakes. We can learn from them.
In moments like that one,
I try to buoy the kids up,
telling them they're valued
and that they deserve respect.
And then I turn their minds
back to the fun we're having.
(And the little kids say,
Six seven, six seven, six
seven, as if sharing
a secret passcode to joy.
A childhood cipher, free
for my interpretation.)
An experiment to show the principles of dissolution (sugar from the candies dissolving in water) and diffusion (the spreading of colored dye from a high to a low concentration). On a white plastic plate, Skittles have been arranged around one side and warm water poured into the center. After a few minutes, the dye has pulled away from the now-whitened candies into streaks of psychedelic color.
(If viewing this entry on your phone, turn it sideways for the best view of the photo.)
While I originally started this piece as an essay, I soon came up with a very fitting original form poem, based on syllables. Each stanza goes 6-7-6-7-6-7, which if you've spent any time lately with elementary and middle school students, you've heard way too often! I can actually pinpoint when it hit the school where I'm teaching this year, because at the beginning of the school year, when they made their name tags, they contained the usual drawings of beakers and molecules and weird animals. Then, when we returned from a two-week break to start the next unit, everyone was decorating their nametags with "6-7."
There are many other moments I could have included, but I tried to provide a taste of what it's like to deal with the chaos, the heart-rending moments, and the joy that you get from working with elementary schoolers.
Adventures in Science
Can we eat this? they ask.
No, I say. Though fluffy like
marshmallows, it's still slime.
You'd think they would remember
the glue and liquid starch,
with shaving cream and hand soap.
Electricity or
biology, minerals
or animals. Weather,
physics, architecture, or
light and sound. We forge new
learning pathways together.
The ones you remember
aren't always those who behave.
One who took his shoe off
and then chased people with it.
Or the frenemies, in
each other's faces, breathing.
Here, two silly gigglers
who love science but also
love jokes. Last year, a boy
who snarked everyone and poured
glue all over his hands.
I try to make them helpers.
Type A students tattle
when others violate rules.
They are first to raise their
hands to answer my questions.
The girl who bounced out of
her chair to offer ideas.
And the smallest ones, who
need personal attention:
my hands-on help to hold,
or tape, or manipulate
materials. They speak
with tiny plaintive voices.
Can you help me? they ask.
After they fail, I assist.
The wee girl in braids who
cried when the experiment
went wrong. Sometimes there is
some crying in science club.
But I'm nice, or so they
tell me. I let them sit with
friends, make their own nametags.
I accept chaos if they're
excited while they learn.
If it's fun, we're doing it.
Some, I'll never forget:
the girl with anxiety
who hid under the desk.
But only once my whole year;
surprisingly, I heard
she hid often with others.
The girl on the spectrum
who feared loud noises, so I
found another option
instead of popping balloons
to find a puzzle clue
for a science escape room.
Or the boy so filled with
doubt after his folks' divorce
that, when he messed up, he
moaned, That's why my dad left us.
I told him, We all make
mistakes. We can learn from them.
In moments like that one,
I try to buoy the kids up,
telling them they're valued
and that they deserve respect.
And then I turn their minds
back to the fun we're having.
(And the little kids say,
Six seven, six seven, six
seven, as if sharing
a secret passcode to joy.
A childhood cipher, free
for my interpretation.)
An experiment to show the principles of dissolution (sugar from the candies dissolving in water) and diffusion (the spreading of colored dye from a high to a low concentration). On a white plastic plate, Skittles have been arranged around one side and warm water poured into the center. After a few minutes, the dye has pulled away from the now-whitened candies into streaks of psychedelic color.
(If viewing this entry on your phone, turn it sideways for the best view of the photo.)
While I originally started this piece as an essay, I soon came up with a very fitting original form poem, based on syllables. Each stanza goes 6-7-6-7-6-7, which if you've spent any time lately with elementary and middle school students, you've heard way too often! I can actually pinpoint when it hit the school where I'm teaching this year, because at the beginning of the school year, when they made their name tags, they contained the usual drawings of beakers and molecules and weird animals. Then, when we returned from a two-week break to start the next unit, everyone was decorating their nametags with "6-7."
There are many other moments I could have included, but I tried to provide a taste of what it's like to deal with the chaos, the heart-rending moments, and the joy that you get from working with elementary schoolers.
no subject
Date: 2025-12-15 06:59 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2025-12-15 11:40 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2025-12-17 06:31 pm (UTC)From:The ones you remember
aren't always those who behave.
Boy, isn't that the truth! But sometimes, that misbehavior isn't anything epic, just a little impishness or a child who is definitely dancing to the beat of his/her own drummer!