Barrel of Monkeys

I learned something new today.  A group of monkeys is called a troop or a barrel.  I was trying to think of a way to describe my kids this afternoon, and this phrase is what popped into my head.  Little did I know, it is the literal term.

Three weeks left of school.  The kids know this.  The teachers know this.  Everyone knows this.  What we also know is that the majority of the schools in the neighborhood are already finished and their 8th graders graduated this weekend.  Try motivating 64 eighth graders to complete research on a Chicago history topic while their peers are running around enjoying their summer vacation.  Needless to say today was not entirely successful.

I have really grown to love these kids.  They have worked harder for Jessica (my amazing teaching partner) and I than I could have ever imagined and they've got the scores to prove it.  They're goofy, loveable and hard-working.  They're turning into snarky 9th graders, which normally, I think is hysterical.  Today was not that day.  My wonderful afternoon class (whom I NEVER have problems with) came into my room this afternoon like a barrel of monkeys, and despite my absolute best efforts I COULD NOT GET THEM ON TASK.  That is, until I threatened to take away their specials this week if they didn't get their work done.  They quieted down for a while, so I turned on a little music in the background (I despise a silent classroom).  Before I know it, the monkeys returned.  I turned off the music and made them work in silence.  It was an unbelievably boring afternoon.

Like I said, a love-hate relationship.