The trick to teaching 6th grade

Tomorrow the 6th grade is running four 30-minute switches which means I'm teaching the same lesson to revolving groups for the entire afternoon.  I love that.  It feels like I'm performing on Broadway (or off-Broadway or off-off-Broadway or way-off-Broadway),  I began preparations over a week ago and just started getting nervous that perhaps I couldn't pull it off.  My lesson theme is "Tricks to Survive 7th Grade."  I researched a slew of magic tricks that I could connect to the ideals of hard work, staying focused, working cooperatively, paying attention, ect.  My SMARTboard presentation featured mind-boggling optical illusions.  I interspersed science-based activities with slight of hand and memory tricks.  I encountered my first problem last week when I shockingly thought to practice one of my magic tricks ahead of time.  I tied a ring onto a circle of yarn, looped the ends to each of Savannah's thumbs and abracadabra, presto-fail-o.  Houdini himself could not have pulled off this difficult stunt.

Back to the drawing board.  I found another escape trick that came with helpful illustrations so I thought that surely I was good to go.  Purchased some rope (not enough, as it turns out...see Grocery Store Saga), and waited for the arrival of my helpful assistant.  Unaware of what awaited her, Savannah arrived at my classroom window.  Seeing the lengths of rope stretched out on my kidney table, she refused to come in.  No problem.  I tied a two foot piece of rope to both her wrists and then waited patiently while she tied mine.  Problem:  the rope length was too short, making manipulations difficult.  So, tied together through a window, Savannah and I struggled to release ourselves from our self-imposed prison.  We bippity-boppity-bungled our way free and Savannah handed in her magic hat.

Undaunted, I cut two three-foot lengths of rope and took my act on the road.  Brad Mosiman hasn't met a diagrammed illustration that could get the better of him.  Husband and wife tied the knot and immediately began bickering.  "This isn't a mind-reading trick," I complained in response to his exasperated expectations that I would automatically know that I should not cross the rope.  "This isn't Ghostbusters," I snarled, "crossing the streams isn't going to get us killed."  "You're right, it won't get us killed," Brad agreed, jerking my wrist sharply to the left, "but why don't you try calling someone else if you're not going to at least try to follow these stupid directions."  We discovered that the three-foot lengths were also difficult, although not impossible to manipulate.  Brad figured out the trick in two minutes and then spent forty minutes teaching it to me.

Next on the list was my outfit.  Somewhere between the Darth Vadar mask and the inflatable pink flamingo, I misplaced the regulation magician's hat and accompanying wand.  I dug through witch wigs, taffeta hula skirts, and clown noses and only managed to unearth a vampire's cloak with a blood red lining and five-inch collar.  What was I thinking? Forget alacazam...my lesson was going to look like alacashit.  But fear not, I still have a little something up my sleeve and on my side.  With my magical ability to see into the future and my gift for reading the minds of 6th graders, my intuition told me that an entertaining and enlightening lesson designed to provide some reassuring and humorous illuminations about their next year would off-set my lack of any technical skill.  Best case scenario?  I flawlessly execute my magic tricks, wow and inspire my captivated audience and instill in them some sense of what they need to be successful in 7th grade.  Worse case?  We laugh a lot. I find a better use for my vampire's cape next year and find a better excuse for tying up my husband.