Like most teachers, the students in my room have classroom jobs.
One child, who for the sake of this post we'll just call Precious, was my helper this past week. I adore him. But he is one of those kids that really likes attention.
So the other day, he finished his work early. The others are still working, but Precious is going to return graded work to classroom mailboxes.
Our classroom was absolutely silent-the only thing you could hear were the sounds of pencils across paper. Everyone was so intent on their task.
And I am basking in the 90 seconds of sheer peace.
And then all good things come to an end.
"MISS!" yells Precious. "This paper doesn't have a name on it!!!!" He's looking pretty smug because a) I have preached and preached on the importance of names and b) he's broken the peace and quiet of the room, called attention to himself, and now going to get to see who had forgotten such a crucial academic element.
It's May. I've had it with basic things. If they don't address papers, I don't grade them. I know where they name is-on the other side.
"Precious," I say calmly and sweetly, "flip the paper over."
"Oh," comes a sheepish response after doing so. "It's mine."
Don't you love a happy ending?