That Teacher with the Rubber Chicken

I often rate experiences/people/happenings on a scale I refer to as “level of ridiculousness”. I have quite a high level of this at times, and this week my students witnessed it. This is what happened:

On the day of our first parent night, my students were working quietly on an assignment while I rummaged through a container in the back of the room. I was searching for ribbon to hang up pictures of them when I accidently bumped my hand into something. It was a rubber chicken. I received this rubber chicken as part of a Christmas gift from my aunt and uncle a few years ago... inside a crock pot. I tossed it into a “teacher box” at home that got brought up here in August. I didn’t get it out when I unpacked because I have to start the year as serious Ms. Foster. But as you would expect, that level of being ridiculous peeked itself out. So my hand bumps this rubber chicken causing it to exhale a raspy squawk which turned every head in the room, their eyes begging for an explanation. I stated matter of factly “sorry, that was my rubber chicken.” About 24 students giggled. Others looked like they didn’t believe me, so I pulled it partially out of the box. 32 students giggled. And then their hands shot up in the air with questions Where did you get it?! What does it sound like?! Does it have a name?! Can I squeeze it?! I answered some of them and told them we’d discuss more later. I hung it on a hook along the blackboard and went along with the day.

Later in the week, as a response to several begging to hear it again, I promised to squawk the chicken again if they did x, y, and z. Instantly they celebrated with a YESSS! And a little clap, then proceeded to beautifully fulfill x, y, and z. So as promised I squawked it a few times and then let those who had a birthday last week take a turn. Then we gave it a name. I don’t want to put it here because it’s kind of an inside joke with my class because of the novel we’re reading aloud. They threw out names like Fred and Steve but we went with the one we all knew the secret meaning behind.

It still hangs on the board and I’ll continue to use it as an incentive every once in a while. Not too often though, because we can’t have rubber chickens becoming a regular part of fifth grade classrooms. That would be ridiculous.