Xylophone/ eXtra credit/ eXamples / Tales Out of School

Xylophone/eXtra credit/eXamples / Tales Out of School

Xylophone must have been given away when I moved. It was a really cool one on which one could rearrange the pipes to create different patterns of notes, and children loved it. I’m sure I gave it to someone who would appreciate it, but I don’t seem to have a photo.

Irises bloomed today, though, so that’s a good photo choice. 😉

Queen of eXtra credit . . .
I had no qualms about adding points to papers that exceeded my expectations, to the point that some of my junior high students had grades of 120%. Only one student ever complained of a “mathematically impossible grade” and had me remove the extra points.

Someone once said that the problem was school scores were small compared to video games. To compensate, I told students that if they didn’t think an assignment carried enough points to be worth their while, they could add as many zeros as they wanted, as long as they added to both the points earned and the points possible.
(Math lesson in English class? Why not? The math teacher and I shattered artificial distinctions by pointing out the similarities of rules for sentences and equations).

I often gave at least partial credit for clever wrong answers, and extra credit for cleverness added to right ones. I would coach students that on standardized tests, they should give the answer they knew the testers had in mind, the “best” answer. On my tests they had the option of writing their own explanation, making a case for two or more options. Few took the trouble, but those who did usually got full marks.

Goofus and Gallant — remember them from Highlights Magazine?
After the last final, I was inputting grades when a father emailed to ask how his son had done. Now quite well enough, but close and he had been trying, so I called down to Industrial Technology and asked his teacher to have him stop by before leaving school. Message not received, but he came by anyway, to return a book. I told him to call his mom to say he couldn’t leave until he was passing, and he set to work, typing a paper on how technology had influenced his life.

Meanwhile, enter Goofus, checking his grade and launching into a rant because he wasn’t passing (had, in fact, been failing all semester). My sense of fairness took hold of me as I noted that I’d given a last minute chance to Gallant. I started looking for missing assignments Goofus could do to raise his grade, but each suggestion prompted a new rant, so I asked him to leave so I could complete my own work. Soon, though, a principal warned me to expect a call from Momma Goofus . . . who proved by her own ranting that the acorns don’t fall far from the tree.

Meanwhile, Gallant was quietly typing away on the computer in the back of the room. I read a bit of his paper over his shoulder and entered the grade as he continued to work. We printed out his work, because it was GOOD, and he called his mom for a ride home. I walked with him to the car to wish him and his mother a great summer, and wished I had a video of the two interactions as an example of how to succeed (or not) in school.