Maybe today that would change, I thought as I walked into my classroom. I set my messenger bag on my desk. I pulled out the stack of five glass plates I’d brought, along with my dry erase pens, and bottle of water. I liked to start all my classes with a science experiment. Cool science tricks had been about the only time I’d captured the attention and focus of my students in Chicago. After that, I spent most of my day competing with social media and student bickering and fights making it difficult to teach. In two years, I’d burnt out and so when Brooke moved to Salvation and jokingly told me to move there too, I was ready to find a new scene.
Salvation had its share of troubled kids, but for the most part, I was able to engage them through the day, even beyond wacky fifth grade science experiments.
Once set up, I went to my door and waited as the buses arrived and my students showed up to class.
“Hey Mr. Marshall,” Jimmy Lerner said, giving me a high five.
“Hey Jimmy, welcome to today’s awesome, spectacular day of fifth grade at Salvation, Elementary.”
“Good morning, Mr. Marshall,” Lanie Maxwell said.
“Good morning, Lanie! Welcome to today’s awesome, spectacular day of fifth grade at Salvation Elementary.”
And so it went, as my students lined up outside my class to receive their individual welcome to the day. This activity had been another brainstorm I’d had in Chicago that worked for a day or two to make the kids feel special, but wore off fairly quickly. Now a month into the school year, my kids still enjoyed it. Some of them even had their own handshake or high five with me.
It took a little longer for me to get my teaching day started, and I got a few disapproving looks mostly from one of the sixth-grade teachers across the hall from me. I’d just grin and say, “Good morning Mrs. Akerman. Welcome to today’s awesome, spectacular day of school at Salvation Elementary.”
By time I got into the class the kids had hung their packs on the back of their chairs and were sitting, quietly chatting with each other.
I walked and stood at the head of the class. “Good morning my young geniuses.”
“Good morning, Mr. Marshall.”
Jimmy, who struggled with attention-deficit disorder blurted out. “What experiment are you doing today?”
“Ah…I’m going to draw a boat and make it float!”
“Ooh,” the class said.
“Come over to my laboratory,” I said, waving them over the long table on the far side of my room. I grabbed my plate, pen, and water.
The kids crowded around the table, giving me just enough room to squeeze in. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” they all said.
I made a big deal out of taking the cap off my dry erase pen. I drew a basic boat with a sail on the glass. “Ready for the magic?”
“Yes,” they all said a little louder.
Took my water bottle and poured a puddle over the drawing. The ink lifted and started to float around the puddle.
“Oh…cool…” the kids gasped and oohed and awed.
“Did I tell you I’m magic?” I said as I watched their excited faces. This was why I got into teaching.
“It’s not magic, it’s science,” Lanie said.
“True. Who can tell me how it works?” I asked looking around. Most kids kept their eye on the boat and shrugged. A few of my brainiacs furrowed their brows trying to figure out the trick.
“Who remembers what we talked about soluble and insoluble properties?” I asked, giving them a clue.
“Oh, I remember. Soluble means it dissolves,” Mark Anders said. “Does that mean it’s dissolving?”
“Does it look dissolved?” I asked.
“No,” the kids said.
“So, if it’s not dissolving, what is this ink?” I prompted them.