You may remember my 3rd grader, Kyle. He was a good kid; he followed the rules (most of the time), participated, interacted well with his peers, and seemed to enjoy coming to music... until we started recorders. Of all the good qualities he possessed, commitment and hard work were not among them. Playing the recorder requires both, and because he didn't experience immediate success, he gave up quickly. The problem with giving up was that the students were tested every other class and (*GASP*) given a grade for their performance. Kyle knew that the tests were inevitable but figured if he didn't bring his recorder, I couldn't make him play.
It started with him forgetting his recorder only on testing days.
"It's in my backpack," was his first excuse. I made him run upstairs to get it.
"It's in my backpack and I left it at home." I called his teacher who confirmed that the bag was indeed at school, hanging in his cubby.
"I don't know where it is! It disappeared, I swear!" I let him borrow a classroom recorder.
I continued to let him borrow a classroom recorder until his forgetful forgiveness had run out. I had a policy in place that only allowed a student so many days without a recorder and I had to draw the line with Kyle. While most students without a recorder are bored to death listening to the rest of us while fingering along on a rhythm stick, Kyle was more than happy to sit there lazily, only pretending to finger along. It meant my plan had backfired and I either had to give in and allow him to borrow a recorder every single class or let him fail. I opted for the latter and when I told him so, he pulled out the big guns. Each day we met, he'd stand at my door on his way in and plead to me with a new excuse, a few of which I've forgotten. But these two I will never forget:
One
"I'm REALLY mad at my dad today."
"Uh oh," I said. "Why's that?"
"Well, I put my recorder in my backpack last night because I did NOT want to forget it. We were running late to school, so when we got here, my dad didn't stop the car but he slowed down and just PUSHED me out the door!"
"Wow! Are you okay?" I feigned concern.
"Yes, but my recorder isn't. I was wearing my backpack and I landed on it when my dad pushed me out. It's broken in two pieces!"
At this point I reminded him that the recorder came in two pieces and that all he would have to do is put them back together. His face fell.
Two
"You're not going to believe this, Mrs. Music Teacher..."
"I bet I won't."
"Well, last night I was practicing my recorder outside. And I got real thirsty. So I went inside to get a big glass of water and when I came out, my recorder was gone!"
"How strange! Where do you think it went?"
"You're not going to believe this, but we found it with the neighbor's dog! It was chewed up into a thousand little pieces."
"You're kidding! That dog must have really strong teeth!"
"I'm not kidding. We even found pieces of it up in a bird's nest!"
In the four, soon to be five years of teaching that followed, I have not yet received an excuse that is on par with even one of Kyle's.
What's the best excuse you've heard? Recorder or otherwise.
It started with him forgetting his recorder only on testing days.
"It's in my backpack," was his first excuse. I made him run upstairs to get it.
"It's in my backpack and I left it at home." I called his teacher who confirmed that the bag was indeed at school, hanging in his cubby.
"I don't know where it is! It disappeared, I swear!" I let him borrow a classroom recorder.
I continued to let him borrow a classroom recorder until his forgetful forgiveness had run out. I had a policy in place that only allowed a student so many days without a recorder and I had to draw the line with Kyle. While most students without a recorder are bored to death listening to the rest of us while fingering along on a rhythm stick, Kyle was more than happy to sit there lazily, only pretending to finger along. It meant my plan had backfired and I either had to give in and allow him to borrow a recorder every single class or let him fail. I opted for the latter and when I told him so, he pulled out the big guns. Each day we met, he'd stand at my door on his way in and plead to me with a new excuse, a few of which I've forgotten. But these two I will never forget:
One
"I'm REALLY mad at my dad today."
"Uh oh," I said. "Why's that?"
"Well, I put my recorder in my backpack last night because I did NOT want to forget it. We were running late to school, so when we got here, my dad didn't stop the car but he slowed down and just PUSHED me out the door!"
"Wow! Are you okay?" I feigned concern.
"Yes, but my recorder isn't. I was wearing my backpack and I landed on it when my dad pushed me out. It's broken in two pieces!"
At this point I reminded him that the recorder came in two pieces and that all he would have to do is put them back together. His face fell.
Two
"You're not going to believe this, Mrs. Music Teacher..."
"I bet I won't."
"Well, last night I was practicing my recorder outside. And I got real thirsty. So I went inside to get a big glass of water and when I came out, my recorder was gone!"
"How strange! Where do you think it went?"
"You're not going to believe this, but we found it with the neighbor's dog! It was chewed up into a thousand little pieces."
"You're kidding! That dog must have really strong teeth!"
"I'm not kidding. We even found pieces of it up in a bird's nest!"
In the four, soon to be five years of teaching that followed, I have not yet received an excuse that is on par with even one of Kyle's.
What's the best excuse you've heard? Recorder or otherwise.