today i was presented with perhaps the most difficult task one could possibly face: teaching fourth graders to dance. and you know what? i could've been speaking spanish and i honestly think i would've had the same amount of luck... none.
as a part of my pete 212 class (basically a class on how to teach p.e.) every student is expected to teach one lesson on dance. the lesson must start with the chicken dance and then go on to teach two additional dances. i chose: pop goes the weasel and the pata pata.*
when i announced to the class that we would be dancing today (dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb) the boys all informed me that they hate dancing. great start, am i right? i countered with, "well, even if you hate dancing i want to see your best effort unless you wanna end up in timeout!" (see preceding parentheses) so then we did the chicken dance. for 3 minutes and 58 seconds. because that's how long the song was. and i wanted to cry. and my class had already begun to fall apart.
for the next dance they all had to stand in a circle and hold hands. and you know what? no one would hold the special needs student's hand. because those kids are the devil. i actually had to sit down and explain to fourth graders that we need to be nice and include others. we then continued the lesson and i realized that my little lecture did pretty much nothing. those kids didn't need a lecture, they needed a grand ole smack in the bum if you ask me.
anyway... pop goes the weasel was a disaster and i ran out of time before i could even try to teach them the stupid pata pata dance (maybe i should count my blessings?) so i just had them line up and told them
then i went home, watched t.v., took a nap, visited hubby at school, and ate a yummy chicken caesar pita. and maybe i took a little drive with my homegirl, t.swift... and you know what? i feel good.
*it was just after i decided to include a dance called the pata pata in my lesson that i knew i was screwed