“Insoluble,” several of the students said.
“That’s right. So why do you think this is working? It’s holding together, but it’s also floating, right? Why isn’t it still stuck to the plate?”
Again, I had no response, but the kids were watching and thinking, and that’s what I wanted.
“What about density. Remember when we talked about that?” I asked.
“Ooh… I know,” Jimmy’s hand shot up.
“Jimmy, what’s the answer my man?”
“The ink is less dense. When the water loosens it, it makes it float.”
I shot my arms up in victory. “Yes. Exactly. You guys and gals are so smart.”
“Can we do it too, Mr. Marshall?” Mark asked.
“What sort of teacher would I be if I didn’t let you try too? But…if any plate is broken in this experiment—”
“We’ll be careful,” they all chimed in together.
“Well, then, I want you in your Alpha groups of five. Each group gets one plate and you each get a turn drawing. Grab a plate, towel and pen off my desk.”
I had divided the kids into several groups for collaborative activities. My alpha groups were the ones in which they, for the most part, had been able to pick who they wanted to be in a group with. When doing an activity with the potential of a mess, I liked to group them in a way in which I knew they had the best chance of not fighting with each other. My Potter group was organized by reading level. My Einstein group was organized by math and science, which in this case I didn’t use because I didn’t need water and broken plates. My Kardashian group was organized by social skill and usually had kids who had good skills mixed with those who needed help either because they were shy or lacked social graces.
The kids performed their experience, and with a minimal of water mishaps, we followed up science with math and then history. Then it was lunch. I got the kids organized dividing between those that packed lunch and those that bought or got free lunch at school. I walked them down to the cafeteria for the fifth and six grade lunch session, and then I headed to the teachers lounge for my own lunch.
Teachers were known for their friendliness, and, for the most part they were. But like many social groups, there could be cliques and attitudes especially toward the new person. For the most part, everyone here was welcoming and if not that, at least civil. Although there was one teacher who’d been very friendly before I got here and was now ignoring me. It was frustrating.
Said teacher wasn’t in the lounge so I took a seat with Becky Gimble, the art teacher and one of the other sixth grade teachers, Karen Sykes.
“So, what was it today?” Becky asked me as I sat next to her and across from Karen. “Did you show them nuclear fusion?”
“Actually, you might like this one,” I said with an affable grin. “I drew a boat and made it float.”
Becky’s eyes widened. “How’d you manage that?”
Karen looked at me with intrigue as well.
“Glass plate, dry erase marker, and water.”
“Water in the classroom. And glass. You’re braver than I am,” Karen quipped.
“They were great. A little water mess, but nothing broken.” I pulled out the sandwich I’d made for lunch.
“You’ve got great ideas,” Becky said. “You should share them with the others.”
“Are you saying the rest of us are chopped liver?” Karen arched an offended brow.
“No. But the kids think Mr. Marshall here is a rock star. I’m sure you and other teachers have great ideas for him as well. I mean you’ve only been teaching a few years, right,” Becky said with her signature loud nervous laugh.
“This is my third-year teaching,” I said. Although the two years in Chicago felt like forever. “Do teachers share ideas? I haven’t seen much of the other fifth grade teacher.” I was glad for the opport
unity to bring Holly up in a discussion so I could figure out what made her tick and why she was avoiding me.
“Holly likes to eat lunch in her classroom a lot. Especially this year,” Becky said, dipping her celery in hummus.
“What’s different about this year?” I hoped it wasn’t me.