Well, that's it for Student Teaching, except for next week's series of observations (a less rigorous schedule, to say the least). It was an unusual day to begin with: the entire school participated in a "race" around the field for twelve minutes. They collected feathers each time they completed a circuit, and later the entire school, class by class, attached the feathers to a giant wooden turkey. Of course, it wasn't really a race; apparently years back they used to give ribbons to kids who ran the farthest, but they don't do that anymore. Nowadays, the entire world is the Special Olympics, and no one ever wins or loses. Some schools never even give failing grades.
A boy who is in the first grade for the second time this year told me, apropos of nothing, "I hate my life." When I asked him why, he said it was because his sister made him dress as a girl when he was one or two. He may be making the whole thing up (he's definitely a casual teller of tall tales), but any seven-year-old who says he hates his life definitely needs to see the counselor. So I'd better tell the counselor about it on Monday, I just realize.
I gave the kids treat bags with decorated pencils, stickers, candy, and a personalized note for each one. Mostly, it was easy to say something nice about them, either one of my trademark humorous bits of hyperbole ("You're the smartest kid in Smart City! Your name ought to be Genius Q. Brainiac!") or a genuine note of appreciation for one of their virtues. Some were harder. For Perezoso, I praised his artistic ability (he really is good at drawing, and loves comics). For Drooly, I noted her interest in all things zoological. Sassy was a tough one: neither sweet-natured, nor smart (or even passably clever), nor helpful in class. I finally put, rather lamely, "You're a good sister!"