The Rebirth of "Big Toe"

In my school, we work hard to incorporate the 6 Traits of Writing into our yearly writing procedures. This is my third year to use this system, and in reality, I'm still revising and refitting and making things work the way I think they should. Now I'm trying out the writing advice of Nancie Atwell, who really seems to be a kick-butt English teacher. She's not just a theorizer; she's a practicing middle school teacher. That gives her increased credibility in my book.

So, this year, I've been striving to incorporate those 6 Traits with her teaching of writing. The first activity she suggests to improve writing? Something called "Writing Territories." This activity is simply a listing of topics--events, people, memories, emotions, etc--that each kid creates to refer back to when coming up with new topics for writing. Fits perfectly with the "ideas" trait of writing.

To help my darlings create their own list, I made a list of things I could write about. The most fun part of this list is telling stories. Kids, especially this class, LOVE to hear stories about their teachers' lives. In fact today, as I went over this list, they decided they'd rather create their own list for homework and have me tell them stories about my life during class. You want me to talk about myself? Well, ok.

They learned quite a bit about me today: my most embarrassing moment, memories of my grandfather, the death of my student Celeste, a funny college story. I even had one kid stay after class to ask me about one other thing on my list that I hadn't gotten to yet. As he asked me, I gave him one of those incredulous looks (you know what I mean, I'm sure), "Are you sure you really want to hear this?"
His response, "Yes, because it's a toss up between who's my new favorite teacher, you or Mrs. Birchwell because you're both crazy!"
Well, kiddo, when you put it that way . . .geez, I'm crazy? Energetic, bizarre at times, but crazy? Couldn't you have picked a less offensive word? lol.
Anyway, I obliged him. He seemed pretty satisfied that I was still "crazy" by his reaction.

So, the same group of kids returns to me after lunch. We were discussing a short story and going over how to find theme in a story (an eerie number of them didn't seem to remember what that was). The theme of this particular story had to do with everyone, even the homeless guy the story focused on, having his own "treasure." Naturally, I ask my kids if they have a non-monetary treasure. One witty fellow raises his hand--"My left big toe."
I gaze at him in surprise. "Your big toe, huh? I have a story about a big toe, which I will tell you if we have time at the end of class."
Instantly they perk up (seriously, they have an intense interest in my life). Several times during the remainder of the 45 minute class, they ask me if I can tell the big toe story. I downplay it as much as possible.
"Guys, this story really probably won't be that funny to you. It was probably only funny to me, but if you really want to hear it . . ."
Yes, they say. Even if they have more work to do at home tonight.
So in the last 6 or 8 minutes, I oblige them again. I go into the details of the anatomy and physiology class that I really didn't want to take as a senior in high school. I explain how my teacher was a coach and how he sat at his desk each day, and one day my classmates and I weren't really listening as he spoke until he yelled at us. In the stillness that followed, he said, "Big toe."
That's it. Just "big toe" and he stopped. Nothing before and nothing after. And I just lost it. Internally, though. I didn't want to laugh hysterically in front of my classmates--too weird. But I'm sure I was twitching in my seat with my eyes burning and my fingers clenched into my palms to keep the laughter in.
And then I had to tell my friends (Erin and Carrie, do you remember this?), and it became this thing where no one really thought it was as funny as I did, but people would say it randomly just to make me laugh until I couldn't breathe. (Carrie, I have a distinct memory of you doing this to me in Mrs. Moutos' class!)

Just as I suspected, the kids didn't think it laugh-out-loud funny, but God bless 'em, they did try to understand.
"Well, I could see why that would be funny. I mean, it's so random. Big toe," said one girl. I smiled and reminded them to use the last few minutes to start reading their next story. Some kids tried, but the others decided to test this "big toe" thing.
"Hey, Ms. Sullivan!" And I would turn to hear "big toe" shouted at me.
"Oh, haha, guys." I think the funnyness has long since passed for me.
But I had several more kids try to make me laugh spontaneously. One kid shouted, "Little toe" at me, and I did genuinely laugh at that. And another kid brought in his friend from a different class just to say "big toe," and when I walked out into the hall during change of classes, two kids came up and told me "big toe" separately.
But probably the best moment came when I went back to my desk and found a folded-up piece of paper sitting there. And when I opened it, it said--you guessed it,
"Big Toe!" complete with a little drawing and a "haha."
And this, ladies and gents, is why I teach.