Work smarter, not harder

End-of-school-year preparations are (insert high, sing-songy voice with a subtle treble here) CRAZY.  I want to find the person who coined the phrase "work smarter, not harder" and punch him or her in the face.  Obviously, this individual has never had to contend with the gremlin-like qualities of schoolchildren as summer approaches.  There are three rules associated with these creatures:  never expose them to direct sunlight, don't get them wet and refrain from feeding them during school hours.  Good luck keeping ANY of these rules during the final week of school.

A regimented schedule is imperative to survival and sanity.  Students believe that they have hung up their thinking caps so the first order of business each day is convincing them that the purpose of school hasn't changed just because the windows are open.  Hours and hours of planning go into developing lessons that fool them into thinking that learning is fun.  "Hey! Is this math?" exclaimed one sixth grader, feeling betrayed that his adorable 3-D g'raph-a-mal, was actually a way to discuss area and perimeter. He forgave me when I let them talk me into holding an impromptu g'raph-a-mal race.

Our teacher planning periods have been packed with the creation of over a hundred paper plate awards.  Work smarter, not harder.  Uh-huh.  We spent four days designing and glitter gluing while endlessly researching the perfect clip art as we attached googly eyes, bright pink feathers, ribbons, and stickers.  Dee even added imitation hay to our "Horse Lover" plates. It became quite competitive at one point.  Brainstorming the "Class Clown" category, I was struck by inspiration.  Racing to my classroom, I dug out a small red foam ball, cut it half and glued it to the plate for the nose.  Not to be outdone, Kelly began construction of a foil Olympic medal with accompanying ribbon for "Future Gymnast."   Before we knew it, we added a full-sized flamingo and a revolving BMX bike wheel to our collection.

 Preparations for Field Day is no less monumental.  We held classroom try-outs for the student pyramid.  Some 10th graders came in as impartial judges as we sought to find the strongest and most level backs.  We schemed and strategized, planning for the big day.  Designing and making the t-shirts took over a week.  We embedded a witty mathematical pun, "Mosiman's Not-So-Mean Mongrols" with the symbol for "mean" on the back.  I methodically fabric-painted the front, back and side sleeve of each shirt.  Work smarter, not harder.  Sigh.

Smarter...not harder.  Huh.  We spent several hours plugging a year's worth of endearing photos into the end-of-year slideshow.  "Let's add funny captions," one genius among us suggested (It may have been me).  "We need music too," Another misguided fool added (Was that me, too?).  "What about animation?" (Shut up, would ya?).  I decided that, for my end-of-year gift for the kids, I would make them a memory book.  They'd write a letter to me, describing our year together and I would respond.  Fifteen uniquely meaningful messages accompanied by pictures and, of course, the perfect clipart.  As you can imagine, that took no time at all.  

Work smarter, not harder.  It's a stupid saying anyway.  I need a saying that better reflects my interests and my drive.  I quote my friend and colleague, Kelly, often.  In response to my complaints about my weight, she (kind of) encouraged me by saying, "Would you rather be fat and happy or thin and miserable?"  It was a moment of clarity.  I wanted to be happy!  I immediately embroidered her saying into a pillow and hit the vending machines.  Let me be clear here, I'm not saying I want to work "stupider."  I'm just saying that I'm not willing to replace my g'raph-a-mal races with worksheets.  I'm not at the point of perpetual kickball games yet.  I want the final week of school to be memorably meaningful and I'm willing to work hard too make it happen.