a day at the zoo

As a teacher, there are some days when it's just best to laugh. Today was one such day. The goal of the English program in seventh grade is to teach the students how to write. I have implemented a writer's workshop program, so the students can practice writing down their thoughts and ideas as well as get some experience with editing and revising. After several weeks of just writing, I thought it was time to show them the publishing aspect of the process. Our project was to make books out of cereal boxes and fabric. I led the students through simple step-by-step instructions, but as you might guess, simple instructions do not always work in a class of very energetic and easity distracted middle schoolers. The first day of the project went fairly well, but today was day two and the sailing wasn't quite as smooth.
The problem was everyone was at a different point in the project, so I needed to transform into super manager, who keeps everyone on task and moving forward. Easier said than done. I have one student in particular who always keeps me on my toes. He has a lot of trouble focusing, and if you aren't on him, he wanders around the room and gets himself in trouble. I pulled his desk to the front of the room so he could have his own space to work and focus. As I'm explaining phase two of the project to those who are at that point, this student is desperately calling for my attention. And by desperately I mean nearly jumping out of his seat and frantically waving his hand in the air. He wants to know if his box is ok. He brought in a mini cereal box--the kind that is about 3 in by 2 in. The front and back panels of the box are used for the front and back cover of the book, so using a mini cereal box means making a very mini book. Realizing that I had no other cardboard to give him and that he needed something to work on for the next 30 minutes, I said ok. He then starts cutting his fabric, which was an old t-shirt. He cut the back out of the shirt and in a moment of sudden inspiration realizes that the shirt now looks like a surgeon's gown. So what does he do? He puts it on and starts modeling his new hospital wear. That's fine. It's pretty harmless, so he can just wear it. I wander to the back of the room to help a student edit his piece. When I turn around, there are three boys in the middle of the room nearly wrestling each other for a bottle of glue. And the surgeon is right in the middle of it all. I break up the match and find more glue. A few minutes later I turn around to see the surgeon shoving a pair of scissors into the uncapped glue bottle. I ask him what he is doing, and he replies in all seriousness, "Teacher, I need glue. It won't come out." At this point it's too late to save the scissors, so I redirect him back to his seat where he begins smearing glue on his book using the scissors as one would use a butter knife. Looking at his desk, I see two pencils stuck together and covered in globs of glue, scraps of fabric everywhere, cardboard littering the floor, and his chair a good five feet away. At least he's out of trouble. Meanwhile, I have another 3 students wandering aimlessly around the room and two more loudly tattling on each other. I quickly get everyone back to work just as the surgeon finishes gluing. He's ready for his pages. With a look of dismay he realizes that the half sheets of paper we are using as pages are too big for his 3 in. book. He's at a complete loss for what to do. I find a clean pair of scissors and suggest he make his own pages. By the time the bell rings 15 minutes later my classroom looks like a craft war zone. There are scraps of paper and cardboard everywhere, glue on the desks, books drying on nearly every flat surface, a pile of glue on the floor, and one exhausted teacher laughing at it all.