It's the little things
Today I was observing a second grade classroom. Looks to be my permanent job description - observer. Not my preference, but I'll live with it.
The teacher handed out papers the kids did yesterday. There was one boy without a paper, and there was one paper without a name, so obviously, the paper belonged to the boy. He took it, looked at it as if he had never seen it before, but accepted it. I nudged him & whispered - put your name on the top.
The teacher was having the kids correct their own papers as she gave them the answers. About 3/4 through, the child said out loud, "Mrs Ohlhausen, this can't be my paper". She explained patiently that it must be his paper, because everyone else had one, and he didn't, and that was the only paper without a name.
He was adamant. "Well, this can't be my paper". "Why do you say that, it sure looks like your handwriting." "It can't be mine because all the answers are right!"
The teacher handed out papers the kids did yesterday. There was one boy without a paper, and there was one paper without a name, so obviously, the paper belonged to the boy. He took it, looked at it as if he had never seen it before, but accepted it. I nudged him & whispered - put your name on the top.
The teacher was having the kids correct their own papers as she gave them the answers. About 3/4 through, the child said out loud, "Mrs Ohlhausen, this can't be my paper". She explained patiently that it must be his paper, because everyone else had one, and he didn't, and that was the only paper without a name.
He was adamant. "Well, this can't be my paper". "Why do you say that, it sure looks like your handwriting." "It can't be mine because all the answers are right!"