Romance and Logic in the Third Grade

One of my beautiful little girls here had an excellent question for me last year. She asked:

"When boys like you, why do they hit you and tease you and call you names and steal your stuff? Why can't they just say they like you?"

Then this is the kicker:

"And when do they stop acting like that?"

I had to break it to her that some of them NEVER stop. And that as adults, women often wonder about adult men why they just can't use their words and say they like you! (yes, I know I'll hear from a bunch of men - I'm sure you're the exception and always use your words and are frustrated by women's lack of communication. I'm just telling it from my perspective)

The same girl asked me once about Columbus. The conversation went something like this, and I have to say, I was very proud of her for the critical thinking skills she displayed.

Student: Why do we call them Indians when India is a different country?

Me: [some crap I can't remember about how Columbus got lost and thought he was going to India, so he called them Indians because he was assuming he was in India]

Student: [stares at me incredulously] They got named the wrong thing because he got LOST? [thinks for a minute] And where does he get off naming them anyway? Who said the white guy could name them??

Comments

JulieBee said…

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

2:04 PM

Jessamyn Harris said…

hee hee!
I'm glad to read something lighter after that super intense one.
you are a really good writer, and I'm really enjoying reading this blog, sister...
I think I will come visit your class soon?
will they kill me?

it's very interesting to visit. I never feel what it's like to be the minority, really, except when I go to bron's school - then everyone is just like "what the--?!" and watching me to see what I'll do. it's good to wear the other shoe sometimes (and to know how lucky I am that I can drive away from that place).

7:41 PM

Volunteers

I had some of the most overqualified volunteers ever in my third grade class. This may have had something to do with the fact that I shamelessly begged my friends to help in any way possible. I think there were a few friends who I asked to come as soon as I met them, before I was entirely sure of their names. Some of my volunteers included: -Someone with an MFA helping kids read -a PhD candidate in chemical engineering from Stanford helping with math -a PhD candidate in civil engineering from Cal helping with math -several PhD candidates in engineering from Cal teaching about construction (several years in a row) and helping with a field trip -my extremely talented brother bringing his drums several times -a friend from Pixar who got us tours three different years, once when they were no longer giving tours - and came to the class to sign the kids' toys from Cars . -a physical therapist (who I think has a masters') who helped the kids with reading -many athlet...

The Difference a School Makes

Update: 9/28/26: If you are reading this, the spoiler alert is that things got much harder for Jorge after this, and we kept in touch over the decades, even as he’s been incarcerated. He’s getting out of prison in early 2027 and I’m raising money to help him start his life fresh because everyone deserves second chances. Please take a look! Wow. I've talked before about the two kids that a friend and I mentor in a way. I'll call them Jorge (the older one) and Luis (the younger). I had Jorge in my class in third grade and he has had it rough. He's the oldest of six children and was born when his mother was 14. His mom is frequently in rehab or jail, although she seems to have been out for the last couple of years. If she's clean or not is anyone's guess. Jorge helped his grandmother raise Luis. He's always been super over-responsible, stressed out, and had way too many adult responsibilities. About a year ago, Jorge started to crack. He was 13, which isn't f...

Cinderella, retold (and much better)

A seventh-grade student rewrote Cinderella and I think it’s much better! The Dressmakers Once there was a girl named Cinderella whose mother died. Then her father married again, a woman who did not care for Cinderella. She only cared for her own daughters and her husband's fortune. Cinderella’s father made sure they were always fair to Cinderella but two years later, her father died. Cinderella was left alone with her stepmother and stepsisters. Cinderella was treated like a house maid but got no money for her work. She had to make the meals, iron the clothes and more. But on some things, like cleaning the windows and floor, Cinderella had to clean them five times per day or according to her stepmother, they will not shine as much as they should. Cinderella would often cry by a tree by her parents' graves. In that tree lived a little bird who Cinderella would talk with. She would talk to the bird about her stepmother’s many chores and little love for her, a...

Bronwyn Harris, Author

Search This Blog