I cleared my throat at the lack of hatred coming from him and prepared for the worst when he approached my door. “Mr. Callahan, or should I say, Gru? Are you ready to join us for anchor charts?”
“Sure am, Mr. Fredricksen.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, and one side of his mouth lifted on one side. It wasn’t an entire smile, but it was at least a quarter of one, and there was no reason why I returned the same, almost visible smile back. It was because kids were around. That’s the only explanation.
He walked into the room, and in the worst accent I had ever heard, he mimicked the character. “Gooooood morning, my minions.”
“Mr. Callahan! Is that you? Where is your hair?”
“Your nose isn’t big.”
“You need eyebrows.”
“Are you hot? It’s August, and you have a scarf.”
Excited and loud voices greeted our temporary guest, and my eye twitched a little bit at the way they all smiled at him. These were our kiddos, sure, but they liked me for me…not the flashy toys. I was almost sure.
“Okay, my intelligent, kind humans. We are going to do an anchor chart for how-tos. Who can tell me whathow tomeans?”
Danny raised his hand and took a large breath. “Instructions.”
“Yes, excellent.” I grabbed a dry erase marker and drew a cartoon of a young student sitting crisscross on the board with one hand raised and the other in his lap. I wrote WHAT LISTENERS DO at the top of the board. “Okay, can someone tell me what this student is doing?”
“Sitting!”
“Raising a hand!”
“Tooting!”
I fought the urge to laugh and caught Christopher’s eye for a split second. He, too, looked about ready to chuckle, and I forced myself to keep my face neutral. “Great observations!”
I wrote in big handwriting,Raises hand to answer.“Raises hand to answer. Can we all raise our hand and keep quiet, like good listeners?”
They all threw their hand up in the air.
“I want you all to talk for two seconds to the person next to you while I tell the class my favorite color, okay? Whoever can tell me what I say will get to take the lunch menu down to the office. How does that sound?”
They nodded, and I held up three fingers. “On the count of three. One…two…three.”
Conversation exploded in the room as I said in my normal street voice, “Blue.”
“Okay, be good listeners!” I raised my hand and closed my mouth, waiting a good ten seconds for them to settle down. “Who was a good listener? Raise your hand if you heard my color.”
Two students had their hand raised.
“Missy, what did I say?”
“Pink!”
“No,” I said kindly. “Hank?”
“Red.”
“No again.” I smiled and pointed at the drawing. “Can you see why we have to raise our hands when we want to share something? It helps make sure we all can hear each other, and that’s important.” I paused and did a quick sweep of the room. They were all tuned into me.
“My favorite color is blue.” I grinned, and a bunch of chatter started. “Ah, ah, good listeners, right? Now, what can you tell me about his face? Where are his eyes? Are they on his hands or staring forward, playing close attention to the speaker?”
We went through every part of the cartoon’s actions. His feet position, his mouth, what he was thinking about, and by the time we were done, we went through practice on how to be good listeners. The twenty-minute lesson ended, and we moved to language arts as Christopher got up and made his way toward the front of the room.
“Can we all wave good-bye to Mr. Callahan, or shall I say, Gru?”
